Panther!Gabe Headcanons

SFW

Panther!Gabe is extremely vain; caring for his appearance more than any wild breed should. He grooms himself often and gets pissy when you fail to stock up on his haircare, skincare, and furcare products. And when he’s angry, ho boy, he just gets in your stuff and uses them instead to annoy you.

Panther!Gabe is secretly fond of romantic comedies and action films that have a romantic aspect. He watches from high above on his perch, propping his chin on his hands as he imagines himself as the man and you the woman in that scene.

On cold winter days, Panther!Gabe prefers to sleep in the same bed or the same room as you, curling close when the temperature drops. He says it’s for body heat, but in reality, he just wants the electric blanket you’ve got in your bed. And also the cuddles.

NSFW

Panther!Gabe doesn’t fall into a rut or a heat on his own; he’s triggered by your cycle, which means that he regularly humps your leg when you’re ovulating or just after your period. It depends on when you’re most horny. He’ll smell it and get the urge to fuck, rubbing up against you all over to leave his scent behind if you happen to go out.

His collar is infinitely precious to him. Whatever you do, don’t attach a leash to it. Never ever. If you want to attach a leash to his collar, you have to break out a training one specifically for the bedroom so he’ll allow you to pull and jerk however you wish. If anyone jokes about his collar or that your name dangles from the D ring in front in a heart shape, he’ll maim them so badly that a cleaner need only use a straw to suck them up.

In bed, Panther!Gabe is fond of playfighting. He’ll keep his claws in but his hands are still strong, still like iron as he closes his huge hands around your arms to get some leverage. But as much as he fights, he wants to lose, wants you to show him his place, and while he won’t lose on purpose, he doesn’t use his full strength either. He never wants you to feel weaker than him; after all, you managed to tame him, didn’t you?

Frost Headcanons

SFW

Tina can get a bit…obsessive with her schedule and her planning sometimes. She hates last minute plans and updates, often insisting that any changes be made several days in advance if need be. Though very patient, she does get agitated when things don’t get planned properly. If you want someone to keep everyone in line and arrange an outing or an expedition, Tina’s your gal.

She’s easily the mom friend of the group. She’s got a mini first aid kit in her backpack, an extra bottle of water, feminine hygiene products, phone chargers with cables for all kinds of phones, safety cash, and so much more. Tina has a backup plan for her backup plan’s backup. Oftentimes she knows what you need even before you tell it to her, giving you the charger when your phone’s at 20%, or handing you a bottle of water the moment you start looking around for somewhere to buy a drink. Probably the best person to go hiking with.

Tina has this ability to deliver funny jokes with a straight face, which often makes it even funnier. That’s not to say that she doesn’t smile or laugh when she makes jokes, but it’s just her specialty. That and puns. Oh the horrible puns. And jokes about being Canadian. And finding creative swears that don’t involve Fuck or Shit.

If you find some cute bit of grafitti on the rec room wwhiteboard it’s probably Tina’s doing. She’s a good doodler and loves drawing chibi versions of her colleagues. Sometimes she draws them as dogs or as cats, labelling each one just to see their reactions. Other than comical drawings, Tina excels at painting flowers and sketching animals. She doesn’t think she’s quite on Timur’s level, but she can happily boast that a good number of her colleagues have a bit of her artwork in their possession.

NSFW

Tina likes to negotiate before every scene. If you’re the type, she loves filling out questionnaires and discussing scenes with you all the time. She’s very open about her kinks and learning new ones but she doesn’t want any surprises while you play with her. She will watch as you set out the night’s equipment, even if it’s just a blindfold and some rope. There might be some intense questioning, but once you get started she just becomes a mewling mess.

Do you see that pot of brushes on her nightstand? Those aren’t for painting. That pot has makeup brushes, calligraphy brushes, painting brushes, all sorts, and they don’t get used for anything but sex. Yes, you read that right. Sex. Tina loves being brushed all over with brushes, be they dry or wet with water or oil. She always squirms like a worm when you take a brush to her face or her body, arching towards you and spreading herself wide open so you can access every part of her. Her favourite is a calligraphy brush that you take to her clit; it always makes her squirt when she cums.

Tina lives for eating pussy. It’s like her life’s purpose – to lie between your thighs and worship your clit and your pussy, sucking on your lips and feasting on your slick until you cum all over her face. Even if you’re not using her mouth, she’ll lie there and rest her cheek on your inner thigh, breathing in your scent and rubbing it all over her face if you let her.

Speaking of squirt, Tina is a chronic squirter. She has no idea why but she enjoys it, even if it makes things a little messy. That also means that she can’t cum anywhere but her own bedroom or the bathroom; the cleanup and prep before sex is intense. If it’s anywhere else, forget it, she’s going to hold that orgasm come hell or high water. Even-even if you drag a brush down her tits and her spine, easing your finger into her soaking pussy, or kissing her soul out of her body, she’s not going to cum. She isn’t. She’s not going to-!

Caveira Headcanons

SFW

Taina tends to keep to herself a lot, preferring to hang out with a smaller group of close friends rather than be surrounded by a crowd. Despite that, she’s incredibly charming when she wants to be, able to use that street-honed silver tongue to talk herself out of trouble. And she gets into a lot of trouble. She tries not to drag you into it though. Anyone else is fair game.

Although she doesn’t look like it, Taina likes to pull pranks on the other operators. Not all of them are benign, though you enforce a line that she cannot cross. She just wants to see people suffer and chaos to reign, is that so bad? Yes, yes it is and she really shouldn’t try to hack into Marius’ bank accounts and drain them.

Taina has a terrifying resting bitch face, but she can change that into a sweet expression at the drop of a dime. It would be unnerving if not for the fact that she only does it to people she doesn’t like. For those she considers allies and friends, she keeps the resting bitch face and never changes that expression. Happy? RBF. Sad? RBF. Angry? RBF.

She’s a bit of a lipstick fiend. She never has much makeup beyond her camo paint, but she never skimps on her lipstick. That white on her lips isn’t camo paint, she can tell you that. In her bunk, she has two entire drawers filled with lipstick that’s been painfully organised by shade and hue. Every day on base, she wears a different colour. It’s a bit surprising to most but she likes colourful shades like purple, bright blue, green, and everything else.

NSFW

A sadomasochist at heart, Taina appreciates mind games, physical pain, and intense punishment. There’s a thrill in knowing that her life is in your hands and that you can hurt or maim her if you desire. Edge play is one of her greatest kinks, other than submitting, of course. Knife play, blood play, deep bruising bordering on scarring, branding, everything and anything that gives her that rush.

Despite the above, Taina’s not so good at orgasm control or edging. She gets impatient and highly frustrated before you even hit her third edging, snarling and roaring and hissing at you to let her cum. But after a while, pain is pain and she falls into subspace, mewling as you pair that denied orgasm with clamps on her clit and her labia lips to pull her wide open.

When you’re both at home for a lazy day in, Taina likes to wear labia clips to hold her pussy open as well as a clamp on her clit with a ball bearing on it. It brings pain with every step, every sway of her hips, and she knows you love seeing her moan and wince when it stretches her skin painfully. And if you attach a leash to her clit and her nipples, she will fall to knees so quickly they’ll bruise.

Every now and then, sensual sensation play is appreciated. Hot wax followed by ice cubes on her tits and her pussy, wartenburg wheels on her back and claws on her thighs, it all gets her so wound up that she spreads her legs wide open and fucks herself on her fingers if you don’t stop her. The blindfold over her eyes stops her from seeing you coming when you slap frozen metal cuffs on her ankles and wrists to bind her spread eagle to the bed.

 

Lion Headcanons

SFW

If he had an alignment, Olivier would class himself as Lawful Neutral. He’ll go by the book and do anything necessary to complete his mission. He made a new code for himself and he’ll stick by it no matter what. Even if he has to step on some toes to do it.

He has this ability to get under people’s skin really easily. He just knows where to hit the hardest to cause the most pain; which when applied in the battlefield is devastatingly useful strategy-wise, but when applied to personal relationships, it just means that he’s often on thin ice with everyone. He never means to be like this, but his brain-mouth filter is still a work in progress.

While a Catholic convert, Olivier is well aware of some of the more…distateful parts of his chosen religion and its community. He takes the good parts and casts away the ones that don’t align with the teachings from the Bible. As far as possible, he tries to be understanding, generous, and kind to everyone he meets no matter how they treat him. He doesn’t like to partake in debates about religion, believing that he might come across as preachy and he wants to avoid that as much as possible.

Olivier is far from perfect, this much he knows. He likes to run his mouth, overstay his welcome, sometimes even be insensitive to certain situations, but he will always try his best to rectify his mistakes and missteps. If you tell him what’s wrong, he will discuss solutions and methods to improve himself. He doesn’t want to be hard-headed or stubborn even if every cell in his body is telling him not to care about others’ opinions.

NSFW

Olivier is passionate about bondage and he’s a rope fiend. He’s got hanks upon hanks of good quality rope, both synthetic and natural. He dyes his own rope and he’s got every colour you can think of. Want to tie him up with every colour in the rainbow? Too easy, he’s got them and he’ll be happy to sit for you for hours while you get the intricate knots and ties just right. When you’re busy and he has time on his hands, he entertains himself by tying wherever he can reach, experimenting with different ties until it looks like a piece of artwork.

Try to avoid church-y roleplay with him. If you tease him about confessing, all he can think about is Chaplain Bertrand telling him to spill all his demons. What he does like is the schoolboy-teacher fantasy. You’re the suggestively dressed teacher and him the obedient schoolboy, mesmerised by your cleavage and thigh high stockings. It’s a great way to get him to near bursting.

Despite his huge size, Olivier is more partial to sensual sex than rough fucking. He likes to hold you close while you tug on his collar, burying his nose in your neck while you ride him to completion. Those beefy arms surrounding you and pulling you close to his muscled chest as he moves his hips upon your word. All that strength and power at your fingertips, just say the word and he’ll do absolutely anything you want.

Surprisingly bad at dirty talk, even in French. He’s just not that creative with his words and they come out sounding forced or cliché or cringe. Sometimes he reads books about dirty talking and romantic words, hoping to memorise enough so they sound natural when he repeats it to you in bed. He does try to adapt it to whatever scene you’re doing, but after you laugh for the fifth time he throws in the towel. Oh well, at least his lewd sounds are hot as fuck.

Ela Headcanons

SFW

Ela is fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone but herself to get through life. Never one to depend on others, she balks at the notion that she can’t do anything herself. It’s a bald-faced challenge to her. Plus, she always feels like the only way to get a job done properly is to do it herself. Only she can do it. No one else.

While she has major issues with authority, she will bend her knee if the situation calls for it. In line with her independent streak, she must fail before she can face the fact that she needs help. You can guide her, but she still wants to do it herself. As a fast learner, she won’t need the guidance once you show her around once or twice.

Unbeknownst to others, Elzbieta has a fanatical desire to be better, to be useful. She cannot sit still if she feels she needs to work on an aspect of herself, be it physical or mental. Failure is not an option. If she fails, she tries and tries again until she succeeds, even if she bleeds or cries before she’s done.

I’m pretty sure she has daddy issues and this weird thing about control. She doesn’t crave control but she craves an anchor. While normally a take charge sort of woman, Elzbieta is far more comfortable carrying out her given orders. She likes responsibility and leadership, but she needs someone above her to be setting her goals and giving her a target.

NSFW

Ela is a brat in the bedroom through and through. She will bite back, she will sass, and she will walk all over you if you let her. Don’t be too overbearing though, because that will trigger her fight instinct and you’ll be in for one hell of a time. After softening up Ela is an agreeable submissive, but don’t expect her to roll over on command. She’ll make you fight for your right to her submission.

As a daring and bold (if reckless) operator on the field, Ela doesn’t balk at pain or at the effort. If she needs to expend her entire self to complete an objective, she will. To that end, Ela throws herself into any situation you put her in. Learn submissive positions to best display her body? Done in less than an hour. Train herself to take three cocks, two in her cunt and one in her ass? She cries while she sits on increasingly bigger dildos, but she does it in less than a week.

Ela is a slut for sybians. There’s just something about that contraption that she loves. It’s how she trained herself to ride the edge of orgasm for a long time, adjusting and playing with the levels as it rises and ebbs. If you tie her down and force her to ride it, the controls in your hand? She will scream and beg and cry as she cums nonstop. And you have no intention of stopping until she’s unconscious, that’s for sure.

If her brat tendencies boil over to rebelliousness, there are few things that can bring her back in line. Pain, pleasure, and the feeling of submission. While not a pain slut, Ela can take an impressive amount of pain on her tits and her cunt, making it prime spots for you to lash if she gets mouthy. Fucking her until her brain is completely gone while she’s tied down is a way to bring her in line. And the last is her trigger word: ‘my pretty little slut’. Say that and she’s gone, floating in subspace.

Doc – Good Morning

Poor Gustave, torn in so many directions. Rainbow Six. GIGN. Base medical services. Home. You. Every time he goes to work, hale and hearty, he comes back with bags under his eyes and a weariness to his posture that worries you.

“I’m okay, just had a bad sleep schedule, that’s all,” he always says. Blaming the consecutive deployments for his terrible state instead of himself.

“I did eat lunch,” he insists, though he wilts at your disbelieving glare. “Yesterday.” He never eats; always forgets to when he’s immersed in his work. When patients pile in by the dozen or when he’s dragged out into the field where he’s always got an eye and an ear out for trouble, he never gets a moment to eat anything more than energy bars or pound cakes. Always so eager to chastise others over their health while completely neglecting his own.

You won’t have it.

Anger and frustration rush through you when you see Gustave stumble through the door, his heavy bag slipping off his shoulder and landing with a loud thump. He’s absolutely exhausted; his eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded, looking so close to falling asleep that you rush to his side, hurrying him to the sofa. Thank goodness for your inner couch potato – a huge sofa is much better than the love seat that would have matched your decor.

With all that space, Gustave flops onto his side and burrows into the soft cushions, dragging you down with him to cuddle. “Hello.”

“Hello to you too,” you murmur back to him, brushing his hair back as he dozes off completely. For a moment, you just lie there and admire his handsome, worn face as he sleeps peacefully. His cheeks are sunken in just a little bit, his stubble growing wild and all over the place. Nothing like your well-groomed, put together Gustave. It saddens you to see that he’s not taking good care of himself when you’re not around, but there’s little you can do about it short of beating it into him.

Hmm, there’s an idea. Maybe for another day, though, you want to pamper your boy as much as you can while he’s on leave. First things first, a total wipe down. Good thing he doesn’t smell all that ripe, but you can tell he didn’t shower before he left the base.

One bed bath later and you’re tucking a blanket around his naked, sleeping form, leaving him to his rest while you go about your evening. Time doesn’t stop even when your loved one is at home. That night, you pull out the sofa bed extension under the couch and cuddle up to Gustave, breathing in his clean, musky scent that you’ve missed. You haven’t forgotten the punishment he is to receive, not by a longshot. But…maybe in the morning.

Like bubbles rising to the surface, you wake from your sleep. Slow, gradual, and surrounded by warmth. You take a moment to doze a little more, to cuddle your bolster and enjoy the heat blasting from your electric blanket. Ah, it’s almost like cuddling Gustave. Your bolster is even as thick as he is, warm and…hairy?

Your eyes slide open to confirm what it is you’re feeling and you discover that, yes, you are sleeping next to Gustave. A very naked Gustave. It takes you a moment but you remember that you did wipe him down last night and strip him, cuddling up to him on the sofa where he passed out.

His arm is wrapped around your waist, his back flat on the sofa while you’re pressed up against his side with your head on his shoulder. Ah, there can be no better way to wake up. You sigh in contentment, a hand roaming over his firm chest, letting his little chest hairs tickle your palm. Your hand explores well-trodden territory, cupping his pecs and dipping your fingertips into the valleys and planes of his abs, wandering down to his pelvis where you rub over the thick pubic hair framing your second most favourite part of him.

His cock, unlike Gustave, is completely awake, tenting the thin blankets and bumping against your fingers as you cup his balls gently. With your hand around his balls, cupping them, it feels like he’s finally home. Slowly, gently, you stroke his jewels, caressing them with thumb and palm, rolling them around until you can feel his cock fully harden.

Heh, he always did like you playing with his balls.

Just then, an idea pops into your head and a dastardly smile stretches over your lips. As subtly as you can, you slide under the blankets and slip between his legs, your eyes locked on his thick, throbbing cock that’s just barely illuminated by the morning sun piercing through the covers. How beautiful. Your Gustave is perfect in every way and his cock is no exception.

You open your mouth and press and open-mouthed kiss to his tip, letting his taste bloom across your tongue. There’s a light salty musk to his skin, so familiar and so arousing that you press even more wet kisses to his head and slit, licking up pearls of precum as you play with his foreskin.

Your hands, though they brace his cock upwards, are also not idle. They slide over his balls and the crease of his thighs, tickling and touching seductively in time with your mouth and your lips. They also serve to pin his hips down when you finally open your mouth to suck lightly on the side of his shaft.

A soft moan wafts into the air above you, near silent. Your ears don’t miss a thing, however, and they pick it up along with more quiet whines when you try to suck a hickey into the shaft of his cock, your tongue soothing the pain the suction leaves behind. Again and again, you suck and lick at his cock, culminating with the lightest on the very tip of his cockhead. There, he dribbles more precum into your mouth along with a very dirty swear from his own mouth.

“M-madame?” Gustave whimpers from above you, sleep making his voice hoarse as he tries to figure out what you’re doing.

Instead of replying him verbally, you just take his cock into your mouth to give him a blowjob in truth. No time for teasing when you have a goal in mind. Just one swirl of your tongue around his head, just one dip into his slit, and Gustave starts to yelp.

“I’m going to cum!”

You wrench your head off and throw the covers back, one hand cinching the bottom of his cock tightly and the other chocking his balls mercilessly. “No,” you hiss. “No cumming.”

Tears well up in his foggy eyes and he falls back onto the sofa. “Aannh, mercy, Madame. Mercy, please,” he whimpers, his hips squirming and legs shifting around your body. “I’m so pent up, I haven’t cum in ages, please Madame.”

“No mercy for naughty boys, I’m afraid.” You shake your head and watch him pant through gritted teeth, watch him slowly edge back from the near orgasm. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you?”

Defeated, Gustave shakes his head pitifully. “No, Madame, I have not. I’m sorry.”

Seeing that he’s right to continue, you start rubbing your spit slick lips up the side of his cock again, back and forth, back and forth, until he starts shaking his head again. “When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

Your beloved doctor’s breath hitches and his heart skips a beat at the return of your tongue. “A-ah, meal?” He struggles to think. “D-dinner?”

That’s definitely not last night and judging from the quiet grumble in his belly, it’s probably not the night before either.

You glare at him and nip at his balls gently, raising your head to avoid being hit in the nose when he jerks his hips upwards. “You’re clearly not taking care of yourself. What did I say, Gustave?”

He lolls his head dazedly, that crinkle in his forehead telling you he’s trying to remember. After a moment of silence that’s only broken by the soft whimper in his throat when you take his cock down to the base, he breaks. “T-to eat! To sleep!” He stops to take a quick gulp of air when the breath wheezes out of him at feeling you gag around his cock. “To be a good boy!”

With a loud, slick noise, you raise your head and clench your hands tight around him again to prevent his orgasm from spewing. “And were you a good boy?”

Gustave is shaking his head frantically now. “No, I’m not a good boy,” he moans. “I’ve-I’ve been so naugh-tyyyyyy~” His voice trails off when you sink your teeth into his thick thigh, a hand working at his cock to make good use of the frothing saliva and precum soaking his cock. “Please! Please-I’m sorry-I’ve been a bad boy-have some mercy Madame pleeeaasse!” His voice is almost shrill now, tapering into a high pitched whine as you deepthroat his cock once more.

His entire body is trembling under you now, almost like a human vibrator, so close to orgasm that he can taste it but can’t cum for some reason. He pleads and begs and bargains, actual tears filling his eyes and rolling down his tanned cheeks as he watches you choke and suck and lick at his cock like it’s your own personal toy.

Plea after plea, edge after edge, and now Gustave is limp and twitching. His words have long become senseless babbles, both in English and French, and his hands are buried in your hair just to have something to hold onto. He hasn’t cum yet, but you know you’ve broken your boy in right. He’s accepting it. Accepting that if you don’t want him to cum, he will never cum. As is your right. As is his punishment.

It is when you see the defeat and deep frustration on his face that you finally decide to let him cum. With two fingers coated in your saliva, you push it into his tight ass and hone in for his prostate. At the same time, you swallow his cock down as far as possible, your nose buried in his pubic hair.

Cum for me.

Gustave’s eyes snap open and his mouth hangs down, drool leaking over his lip as he gurgles a thank you, his body spasming uncontrollably with the orgasm that you wrest from him. His hands never pull on your hair despite its tightening grip. His legs never squeeze the life out of you despite closing around your shoulders. His cock never suffocates you despite cumming an entire month’s worth of semen into your throat.

You swallow down as much as you can, letting him feel your throat constricting around his slowly softening cock. As you drag your head upwards, you can feel his half hard cock, soaked and slimy with cum and saliva, slip out of your mouth. It lands on his damp belly with a splat, cum still drooling out of the tip just as saliva drips from his slack mouth.

While you lick your lips clean of his seed and his taste, Gustave lies brainless beneath you. His beautiful brown eyes are dilated and unfocused, twitching and turning to look at you as you call his name and cup his bristly cheek.

“Hey baby. Good morning.”

He tries to reply to you, but what comes out is entirely unintelligible. A deep sense of satisfaction fills you at the sight of your well-spoken lover being reduced to a pile of senseless, brainless mush. So cute. Rather than clean him up right away, you shuffle up and hug his head to your chest, kissing the top of his head. Gustave’s eyelashes tickle your skin as he flutters his eyes closed, his body relaxing as he sinks back into slumber.

Hopefully this will teach him some sort of lesson. If not…there’s always round 2.

Vigil – Happy Totally Not A Special Day

It’s hard to celebrate Chul Kyung’s birthday when he’s adamant on not showing his face for the entire day. By ‘not showing his face’, you mean ‘not to be seen by anyone, living or dead’. You asked Craig, the person most likely to see your elusive lover, and he shrugged and said Chul Kyung didn’t come down for his regular morning workout. You then asked Mark, who said he didn’t see him all day on the surveillance cams.

After Mark, well, you’re right out of luck. Typically the only other person who’d know Chul Kyung’s whereabouts…is you.

Great.

You sigh and sit down on his bunk, staring down at your little present in your hands. You knew Chul Kyung didn’t really like people knowing his birthday or celebrating it, but this is going way beyond anything you expected. No one really knew anyway, beyond you, Six, and Gustave. Surely he didn’t think the base would throw him a birthday party like they did the others; Chul Kyung would skitter away at the first mention of ‘happy birthday’.

For hours, you sit on his bed, wandering around his room and staring out the window and at the door, not touching any of his things (not that he had much). 8pm went past. Then 9. Then 10. And it is at 11pm that you finally sigh and give up, setting his present in the middle of his bed. “Happy Birthday, Chul Kyung,” you whisper into the empty room, closing the door behind you as you leave.

Unbeknownst to you, Chul Kyung lingers in the shadows at the far end of the hall, his dark mask looking through the window, his body blending in the darkness pooling on the balcony. He stares balefully at you as you ascend the stairs to your own bunk on the women’s floor, noting your tired form and slumped shoulders. A few emotions trickle through him and down his spine; concern, suspicion, and something he won’t accept to be deep affection. What were you in his room for?

In the stillness, he can tell exactly when you enter your room. The rhythmic footsteps, the pause, the near-silent creak of your door, and the soft click of the lock sliding into place after you close it behind you.

He waits for a heartbeat, his breath caught in his chest.

…

…

The air whooshes out of him when his chest starts to ache.

…You’re not coming back down.

Chul Kyung isn’t sure whether he’s glad for it or not, but he takes the opportunity to slink into his own room and see what you left behind. There, sitting primly on his perfectly made bed is a cylindrical object wrapped in patterned cloth. It’s fairly large, almost as big around as a mortar shell, and tall too. He approaches it carefully and lifts it; surely it’s not an actual bomb or something, right?

What is he saying, of course, it isn’t! You’re not someone to put that in his room, let alone tie it up so prettily in cloth with…a note on top. He sets the package on his desk and unties the note, unfolding it and lifting it up so he can read it in the moonlight.

Hey Chul Kyung,

I know you hate me saying it and I know you hate celebrating it so I won’t say it. But you know what I mean. It might not be a special day for you, but I wanted to give you something anyhow. It’s not a bomb, don’t worry.

It’s something I thought you might have missed from home; we were talking about food and home cooking the other day and you mentioned that you missed eating this. You probably didn’t really mean that you wanted to eat it, and if you didn’t, sorry >< I made it. I know I’m not the best cook (though Grace said it tasted pretty authentic so it should taste good?) but I hope you enjoy eating it anyway.

I wanted to hand it to you while it was still hot, but I couldn’t find your stupid ass anywhere today, so you’re going to have to eat it cold. Or microwave it, if you want. Not in the container though! That’s metal! And not microwave safe! Also, the container isn’t traditional but it’s something I use all the time for bringing my lunch to work. Make sure you give it back to me when you’re done, okay?

(-Happy birthday-) Happy Totally Not A Special Day, baby.

– Your not so secret lover

His eyes dart across each hastily scrawled word, every messy letter, until he feels his eyes watering from how dry they are. Blinking quickly, Chul Kyung ducks his head to wipe the involuntary tears that well up in his eyes. Shit. Shit, fuck.

Turning away from the window, he grabs the package in one hand and disappears out his door in the blink of an eye.

Upstairs, you’re nestled comfortably in bed and on the verge of falling asleep. Drifting in that limbo where you’re not quite awake but not quite asleep either. The footsteps outside your window and the quiet whirring of vehicles and aircraft in the distance are slowly lulling you to sleep. Sighing contentedly, you burrow deeper into your pillow and relax.

Only to pop your eyes open when you hear something drop on the floor and a weight denting the side of your mattress. What the fuck?

Ratcheting upright, you turn around with wide eyes to find a broad back perched on your bed by your side, the spiky hair and 707th SMB shirt revealing the intruder’s identity. “Chul Kyung, what the fuck? It’s midnight, what are you doing here?”

He doesn’t reply you, his shoulders bobbing up and down as he starts fiddling with something in his hands. Metal clanks softly, like two plates skittering against each other. Then the distinct clacking of utensils.

With wide eyes, you shift and look over his broad shoulder to see that he’s eating the food you left for him, two metal tiers of a tiffin carrier balanced on his thick thighs and the bottom, thickest tier held in his hand as he eats out of it with a spoon.

“Chul Kyung,” you murmur, landing a hand on his back as you shuffle close to him. The murmur turns into a concerned whisper when you see that his cheeks are tear-streaked, little droplets falling onto his hands as he demolishes the food you made for him. “Chul Kyung?”

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he finishes eating, his voice just slightly hoarse as if he is speaking for the first time today. “I’m sorry.”

You know ‘sorry’ isn’t a word that he’ll say easily, so you just nod and hug him from behind carefully, making sure not to upend the metal containers on the floor. “What are you sorry for, silly boy.”

His chest stutters a little under your chest as he packs away the container lovingly, even tying the cloth back up so he can set it aside safely. Chul Kyung turns then, eyes averted, and leans you back onto the bed with you tucked into his chest instead of his back. Although on top of your blankets instead of under it with you, he burrows into your chest and holds you tight, burying his face into your shirt so you don’t see how he’s finally composing himself.

“Sorry,” he whispers in Korean. “For avoiding you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. Then it clenches tightly. Silly boy. “It’s okay, I understood,” you murmur back and hug him close. Arms around his head, legs around his waist and tangled with his, you engulf him with your body as much as you can.

The words are just on your lips as he cuddles you close, but something in your head tells you not to. So you keep quiet, threading your hand through his hair and humming softly to lull the both of you to sleep.

Just before you both drift off, Chul Kyung presses a kiss to your breast. “Happy birthday to me.” And then he sleeps, a soft smile on his weary face.

Milking McCree

“Rise and shine, baby!”

McCree groans deep in his chest as he rouses from his slumber, his slumped head rising from where he left it in sleep. Blearily, he blinks and focuses his tired eyes on your silhouetted form; he can’t see much with the bright light streaming into his stall from behind you.

“Boss,” he grunts, shaking the sleep out of his eyes. In doing so, he jingles the heavy cowbell around his neck, the clanking sound lulling him back into a relaxed state. His muscles flex in his stocks, the metal and soft fleece hugging him gently as he moves. He can only shift a little to adjust his sleep soft body, but it’s enough to rouse him to full wakefulness as you approach. “Is it-?”

You shake your head and do your daily checks: cuffs, chains, collar, ass plug, nipple clamps, cock ring, and of course, his nose ring. “Not yet, stud. Just two more days; you can hold out for that long, can’t you?” His desperate whine amuses you, enough that you laugh at the pathetic look of frustration on his handsome, furry face. “Come on, you’ve gone 28 days without cumming. You can take 2 more, can’t you?”

“Not if you edge me again today, I’m not,” he snarls with his nostrils flared, jerking this way and that in his stocks until his stall is filled with a cacophony of chains jangling and wood creaking. “I ain’t gonna take it no more. I ain’t!” He stomps his sharp hooves and throws himself against the stocks holding his wrists and neck still. “I wanna cum, boss. I ain’t gonna take no edging no more!”

Smack!

McCree roars and brays into the cool morning air, thrashing his head this way and that to find the source of the pain biting into his ass.

Smack smack smack!

Where is it?! What the hell is that?

“Calm yourself, McCree,” you drawl and let your whip fly three more times, scoring dark marks into his well-beaten ass and thighs. “Flying into a rage will do you no good.” Another three more whippings fall onto his meaty ass.

After those three, McCree is sobbing more than he is raging, his whipped ass glowing bright red and starting to bruise a little where you struck him. “Please…please…” he whimpers, his head starting to hang down again. “I can’t-”

Sympathy wells up in you and you hang the whip back up, walking back around his bent over form to come to his horned head. You attach a leash to his nose ring and pull his head up that way, up and up and up until he’s looking up at you in the eyes. “You can do this, my breeding bull. Just two more days and you’ll be able to cum as much as you want, okay?”

But he’s shaking still, his thighs trembling and his belly twitching in deep-seated need. “Please don’t edge me today boss, please! I really-” McCree takes a moment to drool out the saliva building up in his mouth. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna die if you edge me again, please don’t!” 28 days of constant edging from 8am to 11pm is taking its toll on him, evidently.

Unfortunately, you have to do what is necessary in order to obtain a good yield come December. There are a lot of buyers who want his milk, and you’d be a bad rancher not to deliver. “You know I have to, baby.” You shake your head, holding him tight when he starts to rear back again. “Those balls of yours have to be nice and full and the only way to ensure that is to make sure you don’t cum at all for an entire month. You’ve gone through this for ages, baby, you can do it again.”

Tears stream down his face, soaking his beard and his fur and dripping onto your hand as you ease him back into a more comfortable position in the stall. Beneath him, his cock jumps and drools into the container strapped around his waist and legs. Even his precious pre-cum can’t be wasted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m milking your tits today,” you coo into his twitching ear, the tag tapping gently against your lips as you kiss him there.

No, no, in fact, it doesn’t make him feel any better. If you touch his tits, he’s going to-! A loud moo rips from his mouth as you start cleaning his teats gently. His cock twitches and drools even more, growing and growing and feeling so hard that he thought it might snap in half if you touched it. He curses his genes for giving him such sensitive tits, but there’s nothing he can do about it but twist his torso this way and that as you massage his pecs to get his milk flowing.

“Now, you’re a little behind on milk production, but that’s okay, we still have a couple of other milkers who can pick up the slack,” you mutter quietly while you massage and pinch at his swollen nipples, coaxing beads of milk to the surface until a splash of it drips onto your work pants. “Excellent. Now for the machine…” Ignoring McCree’s defeated crying, you attach the teatcups and press a couple of buttons on the machine, letting go only when you feel the suction take hold.

The moment the machine starts to suck at his tits, McCree starts to wail and moo his head off. He trembles and arches his back, his hands twisting in the wooden stocks by his head as though he wanted to grope something. His knees shake and eventually buckle, sending his waist and hips back down onto the padded metal bars that keep him in a vulnerable position; ass up, head down.

Gravity helps to milk his tits as much as the machine does, pulling at least a litre out of him while you do your other morning checks. You hose him off and wipe him down, clearing out the mess in his stall while you wait for the machine to collect his milk. By the time his milk hits the mark on its bottle, McCree is almost wrung out and insane with lust, his eyes blown wide and his hair stuck to his face when you finally round around to his front to check on him.

Removing the teatcups go quick, his formerly puffy nipples even bigger and softer now after it’s been sucked on for at least half an hour. When you flick them and pinch to see a little bit more cream dribble out, McCree only moans softly and drops his head next to yours, his blunt horns gently pressing against the top of your head.

“Aww, baby,” you coo up at him, but not before you sneak a little suck of his milk. That makes him jump back upright with a loud scream of pleasure filled pain, his chest trembling when you nibble and suck at his tender nipple. Milk, soft and sweet and creamy, bursts on your tongue and you have to rip yourself away before you milk him beyond his capacity. Fuck, his milk tastes so damn good. Maybe that’s why your customers pay an arm and a leg for his cream.

Well, enough of his milking, you guess, setting the milk inside a refrigerated unit while you clear up the milking machine. While you do so, McCree whines at you pitifully, shooting you doe-like eyes when you turn around to look at him. “Boss…”

“Hmm?”

“C-can I-?” His lip trembles. “Can I have a treat, please?”

Oooh, how polite. “You haven’t been a good boy at all, stud. How do you deserve a treat?”

He licks his lips and raises his head, the ring in his nose shifting as his tongue touches it. “I’ll be a good boy for the rest of today, boss. And tomorrow. And the day after. I’ll take all my edges like a good little cow. Please, boss, can I have a treat?” He wriggles his ass and arches his back, showing you his huge cock that’s still weeping precum like his eyes are leaking tears. His cock is as beautiful as always, huge, so thick that you can’t get your fingers around it and long enough that he could spear you on it if he wanted to. If you wanted to.

You eye it and grin evilly. But what if he had a smaller cock.

“Wait one second.” You dart out the stall and to your tack room, leaving McCree to stare after you confusedly. It takes a couple of moments before you’re back, screeching to a halt in front of him with a strap on cock in hand, harness and all. “You can’t fuck me, because I know you and you’re going to blow your load the moment you stick your cock inside me. But you can fuck me with this cock.” You wave the dildo in front of him, shaped just like his cock but smaller, human-sized and all too easy for you to take.

McCree wails and shakes his head; he wants to fuck you. Him. HE wants to fuck you, not some fake cock that can barely stretch your walls. “Please, Boss, you know my cock is better!” He pleads and begs and bargains with you even as you strap the harness on, tucking his cock out of the way with the help of the pre-cum collection unit. His balls slap against your hand as you struggle to get him prepped, the huge testicles searing hot and so big that you don’t think he can close his legs – the sign of a virile breeding male. Too bad he’s not allowed to breed until you say so.

“Just be glad I’m allowing this much, McCree,” you sigh out, dropping your pants and crawling into the breeding frame installed beneath him. It’s usually for clients who want a, hmm, traditional insemination method, but you use it from time to time. To ensure quality control, of course. In this instance, you slide the fake cock inside you with a relieved groan, rocking back onto it and feeling his huge balls bang against your thighs as you do so.

McCree rages and roars above you, his chest tapping against your back as he bucks into you with all the desperation of a cooped up male. He fucks you hard, as hard as the stocks will allow, his hips slamming against the frame as much as it smacks into your ass as he rams you with all his weight. Luckily the dildo isn’t as long as he is, or you would be rolling under him with a perforated womb. As it is, the cock hits you in just the right spot and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he does all the work.

He huffs and brays and moos his heart out, gripping at the chains and the stocks to get better traction to fuck you harder, fuck you faster until the wet squelching of the dildo inside you is driving him as mad as the milking machine did. He can feel your slick gushing onto his balls and his hips, can feel you tightening around the dildo as he drives it hard. His hooves scramble for purchase, stomping and slamming against the hay and wood floor until it sounds like he’s in the middle of a fight.

“I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cuuuuum~!” He yells out at the top of his voice, his cowbell clanking and clanking as he quickens his pace, feeling the pleasure burning in the depths of his gut with nowhere to go. It feels like you’ve edged him for a solid hour but he couldn’t have been fucking you for more than ten minutes. He’s going to go mad. He’s going to go mad with denied pleasure and it’s going to be all your fault.

You merely laugh and rock yourself back on the dildo, flicking your clit and licking at his puffy tits until you cum with a cry, pushing yourself as far back as you can go so you can feel the cock jamming so deep into you that it hurts. And yet, even with your pussy clamping down on the cock hard, McCree still fucks you hard and fast. Unyielding, unflinching, never-ending.

He’s chanting ‘please’ over and over again, his voice strained and hoarse and ruined as he tries his hardest to cum. Alas, it’s not to be.

With a satisfied sigh that stutters from his still frantic bucking, you rip yourself off the fake cock and roll out from under him quickly. Good thing too, because he launches himself as far forward as he can as though to sink his cock deep into you. “Ooof, that was a good fuck, stud. Glad to know you still have it in you.”

“Pleasepleaseplease-” McCree doesn’t hear you through his mumbles and the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his great heart. “Let me cum please, oh fucking please please, boss!”

You shake your head again and stumble into your pants, tidying yourself up and removing the harness to clean it and the cock. “Two more days, baby. You can handle it. Now, take a breather and I’ll be back after I clean Hanzo’s stall, okay?”

McCree barely picks up his head to watch you leave, leash still hanging from his nose ring and dragging against the floor.

 

Maestro – Discipline Comes In Many Forms

“Martello?”

Meghan’s voice snaps him out of his daze.

“Yes?” Adriano shakes himself out of his cloud of sinful thoughts and tries to focus on the blonde American card dealer. “Uhh, hit me with it.” There’s probably a word or two wrong in there, but he just can’t concentrate. Not with your foot pressing sweetly against his covered cock.

He swallows thickly and watches the SEAL hand him a card. 9 of spades. Fuck. “I’m out,” he rasps huskily, showing his other two cards hastily before he literally throws himself out of his chair to flee out of the living room. He has to get out of there before you make him cum in his pants in front of everyone.

Meghan, Marius, and Aleksandr blink in confusion, but you? You just smirk and slide your foot back into your shoe. They might not have seen the impressive bulge in the Italian’s pants, but you sure did. “I’m out, too,” you echo, showing that you just barely missed a blackjack with two 10s. “I’ll go see what’s up with Adriano.”

Marius squints at the doorway Adriano fled through, then shrugs. “Probably ate something bad. Dominic made the cookies.” Meghan and Aleksandr both cringe in sympathy, groaning about the German’s notoriously bad baking skills.

What a convenient excuse. Also, yes, Dominic did salt the cookies instead of adding sugar.

Poking your head out the doorway, you find him leaning against the wall next to the kitchen, both hands folded over his crotch suspiciously. “What’re you hiding there, tiger?”

Adriano gives you the evil eye (hah!) and grouses, “You know exactly what I am fucking hiding.” The twitching, searing hot cock under your foot earlier would have told you exactly what he’s trying to cover. His hands are a poor substitute for the pressure of your foot, but by God, he will not stoop to jerking himself off in the bathroom like a naughty schoolboy.

Chuckling at his quickly reddening face, you sidle up against his side and press your lips to the crook of his neck. “I do. But you don’t sound very happy about that.” A gentle kiss. A soft nip. And then your whole body pressing up against his front, rubbing and rocking against that monster cock hidden in his trousers for good measure. “My cock doesn’t look very comfortable like that; trapped in your pants.”

Adriano gulps as his head falls back bonelessly, baring more of his thick throat for you to kiss and nibble. Fuck, he loves it when you claim him like this; your cock, your man, your pleasure whenever you want it. “Are you going to report me for abuse, la signora?”

“Mmm,” you purr into his skin. “I’d rather administer the punishment, myself.”

He grins a strained grin, the flush on his tanned skin deepening when you whisper something into his ear. Oh, that he can do. He closes his mammoth paws around your biceps and roughly pulls you into the kitchen, sneaking into the pantry and slamming the door closed behind him. He dips down, steals a rough kiss from you; one that is returned in as harsh a manner before you shove him away.

Adriano gets the hint and falls into a parade rest with his hands behind his back, revealing the huge tent in his pants for you to see. “Ready for discipline, la signora.”

Oh, his voice is going real deep now, almost like a growl that you can feel right down to your bones. You bite your lip and let it go slowly, relishing in the heat that’s roiling off him and the sheer size of his build. Sometimes you forget how big he is until he’s crowding you into a corner. Taking your time, you run your hands up and down his broad chest and his expansive shoulders, kneading the muscle and the flesh until you can feel his nipples jabbing at your palm as you slide your hands downward.

Against your belly, you can feel him twitch and grow harder, hotter, absolutely straining against his trousers until you can see the glimmer of his fly. “Oooh, that must hurt,” you coo at his poor cock, your clever fingers undoing his belt, his button and his zip all in one smooth motion. And just like that, his cock pops out. Ruddy, flushed, leaking precum, and best of all – hooded with just the very tip of him peeking out.

“L-la signora~” Adriano moans softly, his beard trembling as you gently stroke his aching cock, gathering some of his precum on the tip of your finger as you swirl it over his slit.

*Slap*!

He jerks upright, his ass tightening as the blow of your slap stings. “La signora~” This time his moan is melodious, airy, almost musical. Another slap, this time to his other ass.

“Pull down your pants to your thighs, Adriano.”

“Si, la signora.” After pulling his trousers down, his hands go back to their original position – squeezing the blood out of his wrists.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

If he wasn’t loud before, he definitely is now. With every slap of your palm on his ass, he moans softly, growing louder and louder with the intensity of your slaps. Eventually, your hand is stinging just as much as his generous bubble butt, but it’s worth it to hear him whimper when you drag your nails over his ultra-sensitive skin.

You love making him lose his mind like this, but alas you just can’t mess him up like you’d love to. After all, you’re still in a pantry in a house that’s currently hosting a Christmas party. “Don’t be too loud now, Adriano. Don’t want to attract anyone to check this pantry, now would we?”

“No, la signora,” he gulps and blinks away the clouds in his eyes. Straining to keep his filthy moans in his throat as you use one hand to spank him and the other to languidly stroke his mammoth cock. Slap. Slap. Scratch. He trembles when you rake your nails up and down his tender asscheeks and over his silky inner thighs, spreading them as far as he can with his trousers to allow you more space to pinch and scratch at his most intimate place.

But as you squeeze at his balls, he just can’t help himself; he moans long and loud, his eyes fluttering and rolling into the back of his head for a split second. Shaking your head, you sigh, taking your hands off him.

“What-signora-!”

“Give me a moment.” You shush him with a shake of your head as you shimmy your panties down your legs. The soft, slick soaked cotton is quickly stuffed into that big mouth of his, just enough to muffle his sounds as you slap his cock to test how good of a gag it is. The would-be moan is muffled into a soft whimper; good enough. “You’re too noisy; someone will find us at the rate you’re moaning – like a bitch in heat.”

A deep groan in his chest answers you, telling you that he’s far from offended. Instead, he’s actually fucking turned on. He licks the slick gusset of your panties tentatively, moaning softly when your taste hits your tongue. God, you taste so good. If only there was enough space for him to hike you up onto his shoulders so he can sink his tongue deep into your pussy…

Oh well, he guesses he’ll have to-

*Slap*!

“Pay attention, Adriano.” You slap him with both hands this time, urging him to rut against your covered belly as you slap him to the tune in your head. Adriano obliges with a soft moan, his feet shuffling wider so he can fuck his cock against your belly. With each strike of your palms, his cock jumps and leaks that much more. The head of his cock peeks out as his foreskin rolls back and forth, back and forth, creating a slick sound that joins the staccato beat of your hands spanking his ass.

You’re entranced by the dance you both find yourselves in; one that rocks you and him back and forth until he actually manages to topple a can of something off the shelf behind him.

You freeze in place, Adriano following suit, as someone calls out from beyond the kitchen. “Hey, did something drop?” Footsteps enter the kitchen and wander around, as though their owner is checking around for what dropped. They stop just outside the pantry, their shadow blocking the light under the door, and your heart stops. Adriano stops breathing.

Fuck.

A hand lands on the pantry handle.

Oh please no.

“Shuhrat, where the fuck did you go? We have drinking game!”

Shuhrat, apparently, groans and stomps away, “Coming! Impatient fucks.”

It is only when his footsteps fade away and the raucous cheers of an eager crowd bleed into the kitchen that you and Adriano finally take a breath.

“Fuck, that was close,” you grunt and let your head fall against Adriano’s chest. “Too close.”

“Mhmm.” Is his reply.

That’s oddly quiet for someone who’s as boisterous as Adriano, even with your panties in his mouth. You look up and see his embarrassed face and the deep flush that stands out against his beard. What? His eyes dart down to your legs and you follow his gaze, discovering that, somewhere in the midst of almost being discovered, Adriano had cum all over your legs. Good thing you’re wearing a tiny dress.

“Adriano, what the fuck?”

At least he has the courtesy of looking deeply embarrassed as he takes the panties out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I-I just couldn’t stop it.” He honestly does look mortified, the poor thing. And he didn’t cum on your dress, which is a good thing.

You sigh and tuck away his now limp cock, wiping your dirty hands off on his pant leg. “At least do me the courtesy of cleaning me up, Adriano. I’m not mad, but I can’t go out looking like this.”

He shakes his head and sinks to his knees, somehow managing to avoid knocking an entire shelf over. “I’m sorry, la signora. Let me show you exactly how sorry I am.” And he puts his lips to the first trail of pearly cum, sucking and licking it off until only saliva soaked skin remains.

“You should be sorry. Now hurry, I want to see Shuhrat get drunk under the table by the others.”

Adriano’s eyes glitter in the dim light, his mouth working overtime to suck his cum off your legs. “Yes, la signora.”

Thermite – Kinky Christmas Action

“Baaabe~” Lips press against your ear and purr sonorously. “Don’t be mean.”

You quirk a smirk on your lips, raising your glass of whiskey to cover the smug look on your face. “What do you mean, Jordan?”

Jordan Trace pouts and wraps his arms around you, his hands travelling under your shapeless sweater and the hem of your short, checkered skirt. His warms hands are like little heating packs as they rasp over your belly and the tender skin of your pelvis, rubbing and caressing until you feel just as heated as he does. Of course, the insistent erection at the small of your back contributes to that flame flickering within you.

“You wear this and tell me I’m not supposed to get horny?” he murmurs into your hair, nosing at your ear when all you do is laugh at his misery.

“I told you, if you last till midnight, you get your Christmas gift.” Then you turn around and take a look at the drunk and tipsy operators all around you. “But if you insist…” With firm hands on his wide chest, you push him back into the empty, and messy, kitchen, ducking behind the huge fridge so as to be out of sight of the open doorway.

“Just to shut you up, you understand?” Your finger jabs at his nose when you see the triumphant look in his eyes. “You’re going to bother me with that monster cock in your sweats the whole night if I don’t.”

“Baby, you know me so well,” he crows and slides his arms around your back as you press him into the wall. “Mind if I just…uh…” His hands slither under your skirt to grope at your ass and your panties, his fingers wandering where they shouldn’t, only to find that you’re rather wet for someone who told him to wait.

Rather than listen to his smartass quip about the slick covering his finger, you silence him with a firm kiss that soon devolves into a heavy makeout session. Teeth, tongue, lips, all dancing and fighting and tasting until his cock presses hard into your belly. Your hand isn’t idle as you kiss the breath out of him; you scratch your nails down his scalp and his neck, the other wound tightly around his shoulders until you feel as if you’ve fused yourself with him.

Jordan isn’t complaining one bit, no siree, not when you’re grinding up against him to the tune of Last Christmas playing faintly in the noisy living room. Instead, he rocks his hips too, spreading his thighs wide open so you can slot yourself between them. His cock isn’t to be forgotten, however, and somehow shifts so the very tip of his cock peeks out from his loose waistband.

“You’re one kinky sonofabitch, you know that?” you snarl against his lips, jerking his head to the side so you can bite down on his tanned neck.

Jordan yelps loudly but stifles it just as quickly, biting down hard on his lip as his blood runs cold. Fuck, did someone hear it? You clearly don’t care, though, and neither does his cock, which in fact grows even harder at the thought of someone catching you. Fuck, he really is a kinky sonofabitch.

“Mmm, fuck me, babe,” he moans into your ear as you nibble at the underside of his jaw. “C’mon, please?”

“Do you deserve it?”

Jordan nods fervently, his greedy hands halting on your hips just under your sweater, and stills himself as best he can. You’ve always emphasised that a good boy never gets greedy, never takes more than he is offered. Jordan is finding that lesson hard to learn, but he is an eager one nonetheless. “I’m a good boy, ma’am. Haven’t I been a good boy?” Oh please tell him you’ll have mercy. He hasn’t cum in what feels like forever; if blue balls is a medical condition, he definitely has it now. “Please?”

The desperation in his eyes is intoxicating, as is the tremble of his jaw as he fights not to move, not to overpower you and push you into the wall instead. Oh, what a rush. You bite your lip and grin, jerking his pants down around his ankles and freeing his cock from his, admittedly ridiculous, Santa boxers.

“I wonder what your colleagues would say if they saw you like this,” you murmur thickly into his ear as you hook your leg around his waist. Jordan shivers and holds onto your thigh, his chest heaving as you continue to taunt him softly. “They’d see you with your pants around your ankles and your boxers around your thighs. What a dirty pervert, they’d think, trying to jerk off in the kitchen when no one’s watching.” His cock, thick, throbbing, and leaking precum, presses against your clothed pussy with the help of your hand.

“Ohhh~” he moans loudly, those kiss-swollen lips parting to let all manner of sounds escape from his mouth. He looks down; sees his cock covered by your tiny skirt in front, imagines what it would look like from behind you. Imagines seeing his cock head rub against the wet spot in your panties that he can very clearly feel. “Oh please, fuck, don’t tease me!”

You laugh at his begging. “Be careful what you wish for~” With a quick move of your fingers, the gusset of your panties is pulled to the side and his cock slides right in. All the way in.

He chokes on his spit, swallowing the moan that would otherwise have reverberated through the kitchen. Luckily for him, the singer’s voice inches towards the chorus, loud enough to cover his insensible sounds so that no one would be drawn to the kitchen.

On your end, you let out a little sigh of pleasure at the feeling of his cock filling you up completely. God, fuck, he’s so fucking big, you love it. The length; the girth; the curve; it’s all perfect. And all yours. Grabbing both sides of his head, you kiss him ferociously and whisper against his lips, “Hush now, Officer Trace. Don’t want your friends to see you all messed up like this, right?”

That taunt only makes him growl and groan deep in his chest, his arms tightening around your body to urge you to grind against him. Your continued dirty talk in his ear does nothing but spur him on, that little part of him that loves the threat of being discovered, the thrill of being so exposed in a public place, coming to the fore. He moans a little louder in your ear when you bite at his neck. When you leave red trails of scratches down his neck and shoulders. When you find your way to his ultra sensitive nipples to twist and tease until he’s absolutely writhing with oversensitivity.

Laughter slips out of you, one that’s interspersed with moans as he rocks his hips harder, as he clutches you tighter to angle you just right so he can pound into you as fast and as hard as he can. “Fuck, you moan any louder and they’ll hear that it’s you begging for mercy like a little whore.”

Jordan swallows thickly and hikes up your other leg so you’re seated completely on his swollen cock. The motion only makes you tighten around him, a move that almost pushes him over the edge. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. Jordan squeezes his eyes closed and ruts into you as hard as he dares, gasping, “I don’t care. Don’t fucking care. Please, may I cum? Ma’am, please, please may I cum!”

Shit, if he’s at the point where he doesn’t care about being caught any longer…

“No.”

He breaks into sobs, begging loudly as though you two were in your bedroom and not the base’s kitchen. “Please! Please let me cum!”

You grin, jerking down your loose neckline and your bra so you can stuff your breast in his wet mouth. “You’re too loud.” With one ear listening for his needy whimpers that are just barely muffled by your nipple and your tit, you manage to catch the tune of the song playing faintly in the background. The moment you catch the verse just before the chorus, you ride him hard. Riling him up, making him dance under you until you can tell that he’s absolutely at his limit.

Then.

Then, when the chorus strikes, you force him to cum with one hand pinching his nipple cruelly and the other pulling at his hair. “Cum.”

“OH FUCK!” Jordan yelps. “Fuckfuckfuck, fuck me fucking shiiiii-” He slams you down on his hips with all his strength, his cock jumping inside you as he cums and cums and cums. Hell, when you extract yourself from him, he’s still twitching and cumming.

Suddenly drained of all his energy, Jordan’s knees buckle and send him sliding to the ground, leaving you to stand with your legs on either side of him.

“How pitiful,” you purr at him, leaning down to comb a stray lock of hair away from his face. “Better get up before someone sees you.” For you, it’s easy to make yourself look presentable, save for the inconspicuous trail of white seed leaking down your inner thigh. You just need to straighten your hair, pull up your sweater and bra, and grab a cold one from the fridge.

All just in time to see Mike poke his head into the kitchen. He looks at you with those stern eyes, eyeing you suspiciously until he notices Jordan’s legs sticking out from beside the fridge. He appears to notice the pants around his ankles and the little puddle between them, snarling, “Kinky motherfucker, ain’t ya?” And then he disappears back into the crowd with a disgusted groan.

Hopefully, he just thinks Jordan had a little happy time to himself. Looking down at Jordan’s dazed form, with his ugly sweater pulled up to his clavicle and his sweats around his ankles, his cock flaccid and soaked with your combined juices, he’d better hope no one actually sees him like this.