Biker!Ghost 3.5 1 , 2 , 3 , 3.5 , 4

This is just a theory since it would be a little too complex and crazy.

What if the three Illyrians (Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel) really are half brothers or cousins? It's not such a stretch. Cassian and Azriel both have hazel eyes, although it could be a common eye color among Illyrians. Cassian and Azriel are the bastards of unnamed lords but what if it is the same lord? Perhaps that lord could be related to Rhysand's family? Or the trios' Illyrian mothers are sisters?

Or the lord is Rhysand's father, the High Lord of the Night Court? It's not uncommon for male rulers to have their own affairs and multiple bastards. Rhysand's parents were mates but it wasn't a loving relationship.

SJM keeps describing the three Illyrian brothers and the three Archeron sisters.

Azriel & Rhysand Parallels

He and I were more similar than most realized. (ACOFAS 73)

This line has always lingered in my mind, so I decided to dig deeper. These two have more in common than good looks...

This is only a small selection. There are tons of subtle similarities all through the series.

I hope these parallels extend to their romantic relationships as well in future books. Rhys risked war for Feyre. I have a feeling Azriel will risk war to be with Elain. 😏

What are you reading??

A/N: this was requested by @thicc-plum so I hope y'all enjoy my friend. This took way too long, please let me know if you catch any spelling mistakes.

This includes 141, Alejandro & Rodolfo.

Summary: The reader gets caught reading a smut book and the boys tease the hell out of her.

CW: Brief depictions of sexual interactions, the boys 'teasing' you.

Y'all really want a part 2 huh... I've made you a lil part 2 for y'all.

You were sitting alone at a table in the canteen. Lunch was almost over but you hadn't busied yourself with food. You were sitting in the corner with one of your books in hand. You always loved to read, but this book in particular you had refrained from reading around the others. It was... A different kind of book. Not one with little swordsmen going on long adventures to sweep away their friends from the perils of danger.

It was one with tension, heat. The kind that nestled in your stomach and bubbled up through your chest, making you feel a small, almost tangible piece of the intimacy you read about.

You were engrossed in the book. The atmosphere around you was drowned out as you read.

His hand guided her thigh, skirt riding up past her hip and their eyes met. Their breaths tangled in the warm bedroom, sweat soaking into the sheets-

"What are you reading??"

You gasp and slam your book shut. Your hands tremble as you push it away from you.

Johnny smirks, laughing as he sits down. "Oh you should see your face!"

You scoff. "Not funny Johnny."

Johnny grabs the book from your trembling hands and examines the cover.

"Oh~ what is this risque piece of artwork??" He flips through the pages, reading over some of the sentences. You attempt to grab the book back but Johnny puts his elbow up to keep you away while he reads.

His eyes go wide. "Woah!! That's some descriptive oral- my goodness!"

"Johnny!!" You jump and grab the book back, pulling it to your chest.

Your cheeks go red. "Don't tell the others, please??"

"Depends, can I borrow the book??"

"What are you going to do with it??"

"Read it, obviously. It looks good."

He gives you his signature smirk and you can't help but feel inclined to agree. You grumble under your breath. "whatever, I'll finish and then you can read it. But please return it!!"

Johnny nods. "Of course."

"By the way, you're late for your meeting with Price. You don't want me to tell him you're late because of an innocent little book, would you??"

He grins. "Wouldn't want dear old captain to know you're doing such naughty little things." He squeezes your thigh.

He stands from his chair.

Your cheeks burn redder, but the time manages to take your attention.

You look at your watch and curse. "Don't tell anyone Johnny! I'm serious!!"

He winks at you as he walks away. "You can count on me y/n!"

You grumble and hold your book close. Why on earth would Johnny want to read it?? Was he messing with you?? Or was he actually interested.

You rush out of the canteen and shove your book in your bag. You just hope Johnny wouldn't tell anyone what he saw you reading.

You will admit, yes, you had it coming. You weren't doing your paperwork as it had gotten too boring too quickly and you'd given up for a bit. No one likes doing paperwork. The only ones who didn't complain about it happened to be Price, Ghost, and Gaz. You were none of them.

So you'd kicked up your feet and started to read your book. It was a book you'd gotten on leave and you had kept it fairly secret from the others, it wasn't a book you wanted them to know about.

It was better than doing paperwork. And much more fun.

You must have lost track while reading however, getting too caught up in the endless pages of sticky hot mess.

"He latched onto her neck, sucking a deep hickey into her supple throat. She cried out his name softly into the night, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders-"

There was a knock on the door.

You shot up, scrambling immediately to bring your feet off your desk and straighten up. You slam your book back into the desk drawer.

"Come in!"

Price enters, making you gulp.

"Y/n, we haven't seen you for a while, I wanted to see how things are coming along in here."

He sees the enormous pile of paperwork on your desk and crosses his arms. You immediately look down and away, knowing you would probably be in trouble for this.

He sighs and comes around the corner of the desk, seeing the still open drawer with your book in It. He sees the very risque cover and pulls it out before you can stop him.

"Was this what had your attention??"

You gulp, getting anxious as he flips through the pages.

He hums thoughtfully. He flips the pages and reads through some of the things, his facial expressions changing with each new scenario played out in the book.

He eventually closes it and places it in one of his pockets.

"Captain-"

"Shh, I've seen enough. If this is what you'd like to occupy your time with, very well then."

"I'm sorry."

He tuts. "Be a good girl and finish your paperwork. When you're done, we can discuss this little book of yours."

Your cheeks burn red and you look away.

"Yes Captain."

"That's a good girl."

Price walked off, leaving a heavy feeling in your stomach. You had a weird new motivation to finish your paperwork though.

The evening was quiet and the others were out. It was just you and Gaz on base and you were relishing in the quiet environment. Wrapped up in a blanket, the fireplace crackling a few feet away from you, nothing better.

With a book in hand the world could only be perfect. Your eyes feel tired, even as you read the book that always makes your stomach drop and your emotions rise.

You thought Gaz had gone to bed, so you felt comfortable reading it without the others around. You would always read this book in your room, it never saw the light of day around the guys.

"He whispered low in her ear, nipping at the corner of her lobe. His hands groped down across her collar, fingers tangling in her necklace..."

You continued to read, barely registering the creak of the floorboards. You'd assumed it was the house settling since you hadn't heard the door. Nor had you noticed the shadow bast behind you, soft brown eyes reading each delicately picked word with you.

Suddenly, you feel breathing near your ear. Your heartbeat quickens and your fingers feel tense. The feeling in your stomach growls hotter with each second.

"That seems a little naughty to be reading out here, don't you think sweetheart?"

You jump, nearly screaming as a voice cuts through your concentration, shattering the perfect dream of being wrapped in an embrace just as addictive as the words in your book.

Gaz grins, his hand touching your shoulder and running down your arm to flip the page of the book.

"K-Kyle- I didn't realize you were-"

"Shh. Read it out loud."

Your cheeks turn deep red. "W-what-??"

"Read it out loud to me sweetheart."

Your heart rate quickens and your voice catches in your throat. You want to say yes just as badly as you want to say no. But the way Kyle strokes his thumb over your hand made you willing.

"S-sure..."

Kyle hums. "Good. I think you'll want to finish this next chapter before the others return. You wouldn't want them to hear all the things you've been reading about."

You gulp, but you reluctantly start to read.

You couldn't sleep. So naturally in the early hours of the morning when you figured no one else was awake, you turned to the kitchen for a snack.

You patter through the hallway with your book in hand. You turn on the kitchen light and make yourself some tea to soothe your body, considering you were sore from the lack of sleep.

You sat down at the kitchen table with your tea and opened your book. The cover was bright red with dazzling shiny line work around two figures. One holding the other in a more suggestive manner. Each chapter displaying a new set of characters put through taboo and risque situations. All of them leading to a spicy climax.

Literally.

You sunk into the quiet atmosphere and started to read. Your eyes drowned into the words, hands holding the book firmly.

"He pulled her back, his large hand wrapped tightly around her throat. His sneer could almost look evil to anyone who wasn't her. Treated like a doll in his large hands, putting so much trust into his punishments."

You gulp, not realizing how heavy your breathing had gotten until a hand wraps around your throat.

It catches you so off guard you whine. Thumb and forefinger pressing into the sensitive parts under your jaw, making your insides coil and twist.

You bite your lip, hands trembling.

Warm breath whisps over your cheek and Ghost's rough Manchester voice breaks the silence.

"I always knew you were into some weird shit."

His other hand reaches out and takes the book from you, inspecting the cover.

"Ghost-"

His hand tightens on your throat, making you moan quietly.

He hums, flipping through some of the pages.

Your cheeks start to burn, watching out of the corner of your eye as he flips. You can't see his face, you can't gauge his reaction. All you know is his hand is wrapped so nicely around your throat, body hidden in the shadows it makes you feel as small as the girl in the story.

He gets to a certain page and chuckles. "You are into some weird shit."

You grab his wrist, wanting to pry him away and wanting him closer. It feels like a dream how it is all playing out, you are scared you want more.

He places the book down and squeezes your throat, getting another soft moan out of you.

He lets go and chuckles. "I could do better than he can."

It makes you want to pass out. He lets you go and when you turn around he's already walking away. Your arms and legs are shaking but you rush after him, wanting to know what he meant.

He doesn't lock his door when he disappears, and you know all too well it's an invitation into the book you'd just been reading.

(also I love this gif, look at Rodolfo just effortlessly toss that crate- boy you are amazing and I love you)

Look, everyone on base knew you were a little freaky at times. It was no secret to anyone. And it also wasn't a secret you might have a teensy tiny little thing for your colonel and the sergeant major.

That was not the point however.

You had just finished up a long day of training with the Vaqueros. You'd been out all afternoon, which was why you were a bit surprised you were being called into Alejandro and Rodolfo's office for a little chat.

What this chat was about, you weren't entirely sure.

But you finished up your routines and set off for their office.

You knock on the door, hearing Alejandro's voice beckon you in. When you open the door you're greeted by both Alejandro and Rodolfo. Alejandro is sitting while Rodolfo is standing next to him with something in his hands.

You would know that velvet patterned trophy book anywhere.

Your blood turns cold.

"Take a seat y/n." Alejandro smiles at you with that smile. The one that makes your heart flutter and your stomach flop.

You nod and take a seat. "What's this about?"

Rodolfo leans over and places the book in front of you. "Look familiar? It has your name written on the inside cover."

You gulp and nod, your cheeks going a bit red. "Yes sir sergeant, I know the book quite well."

"I think you would, considering how worn it, must get read a lot."

By now Rodolfo has come around to your side, one hand snaking up your arm to your shoulder and squeezing the muscles.

You gulp again.

Alejandro opens the book and flips through the pages. "Such a filthy book y/n, there's only one reason you could read this book so much."

You look away bashfully.

"Does it give you a high, Y/n??"

"N-no colonel!"

Alejandro stands and flips to a certain page. He taps the frame of the book and bends down in front of you, guiding your gaze back to his with his thumb and forefinger.

"Care to explain this then?"

You look down at the page he points to, you know it well. Rereading it over and over. It had crinkled edges from your sweaty fingers and dirt makes from the small traces your nails would leave.

You reread the words you practically knew by heart.

"She cries loudly, voice broken into sobs. The man behind her keeps a firm grip in her hair and tugs her back against him. The second man gazes down into her teary eyes, letting her breathe a fresh breath of air before plunging back into her throat."

Your cheeks were red enough, tainted deeper when you saw the scribbled names of your colonel and sergeant major at the bottom of the page.

Rodolfo's hand curls in your hair, his soft voice near your ear. "Considere esto su castigo por leer tal suciedad."

Your brow wobbles, but you can't run from them, you never could.

biker!Ghost 2 1 , 2 , 3 , 3.5 , 4

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

The Quiet Ones

Colonel Alejandro Vargas / fem!Reader

Summary:  When Schwalbe‘s assignment in Las Almas draws to a close, Alejandro finally makes a move.

Content:  secret identity, sexual tension, pining, food as a love language, heavy PDA, car sex, grinding, fingering, rough non-penetrative sex

Part: 1 / 2

Word Count:  7.5k (70% pining, 30% pure filth)

Notes:  My dear anon, every day we stray further from salvation and this idea only sped up the process. I loved it. Thank you for requesting this beautiful man. I feel like Alejandro would be the type to spoil his partner all the time, just because he can and loves to see them happy. I've been writing away at this the whole week whenever I had a little free time at night, I hope you like it! 🤍

↳ callsign for the reader is Schwalbe (swallow, like the bird, German)

"Oh my fucking god," she whispered, eyes glued to the tall and handsome man on the other side of the airstrip. 

The Colonel wore dark green today, with a heavy tactical vest and combat boots that were caked all over with mud. His sunglasses perched on top of his head, black hair slicked back a little but the late time of day and humidity had done a marvellous job of bringing back some natural curl. He looked good. More than good. Fine. Hot. Ready to eat. 

And he was coming their way, fast. 

Schwalbe hastily slid on some sunglasses, happy that the blue mask over her mouth and nose would do the trick and conceal most of her undoubtedly blushing face. Alejandro was talking rapidly to Rodolfo over the radio as he approached, Spanish smooth and sexy and dear lord she was so fucked. 

The last time she'd seen the Colonel had been during an emergency evac of the 141 boys and some Los Vaqueros soldiers, with her flying the helicopter. Fun times. Not a situation where one could properly appreciate the sex appeal of a man who seemed to age like fine wine. And was that-

Before she had any opportunity to embarrass herself, Lieutenant Ghost stepped forward and the two men shook hands firmly. There was true familiarity there, the kind that you can only get from being shot at together and coming out the other end more or less in one piece. 

"My favourite fantasma, back to haunt me, eh?"

"More like savin' your ass as usual," Ghost replied drily.

Alejandro laughed, then turned towards her. 

"And who is this, Lieutenant? Am I doomed to never see the faces of my team these days?" 

He ducked down a little to look into her eyes, obscured as they were from the sunglasses. Their faces were very close for a moment, and she could smell the dust and leather on him before her hand closed around his outstretched one. 

Alejandro was grinning and she smiled back behind the mask, then her gaze flickered to the small patch of beard she'd noticed only moments ago. Right there next to the corner of his mouth was a tiny sliver of silvery grey hair, interspersing the otherwise tidily trimmed black beard. 

Now that his lopsided smirk morphed into a confused but polite smile at her silence, the grey was less noticeable.

"Sergeant Major Schwalbe," she said softly, mouth dry.

"Welcome to Las Almas," the dark-haired man said, then released her and straightened back up. Mourning even that innocent contact, Schwalbe followed the two men to the SUV waiting for them. The aircon inside was bliss, and she released a tiny breath of tension as her back hit the soft leather of the backseat and eased her tense muscles.

Las Almas was a big deal, being assigned here repeatedly meant that she was considered to be among the best and most reliable. Schwalbe tried not to let it get to her head, but the spark of pride in her chest helped with the usual anxiety of being thrust into new places.

Lost in thought, she stared out of the tinted window, watching the city move by quickly. Children ran along sidewalks, and an elderly man with an impressive moustache sold divine-smelling street food that had her stomach cramping tightly as they rolled past. 

Schwalbe glanced at the two men in front, who'd been holding quiet conversation the entire time. That in and of itself was highly unusual for Lieutenant Ghost, who most often preferred to observe quietly instead of participate in banter. Perhaps with the exception of Sergeant Soap. He really must be fond of the Colonel-

Dark eyes already watched her in the rearview mirror. Curious and piercing, even as Alejandro continued speaking and driving along like it was nothing. 

Schwalbe felt her face grow hot but knew that there was no way he'd be able to see her stare back behind her gear. Perhaps it was cowardly, but she just couldn't bring herself to take off the sunglasses, especially knowing that she would have to face his intense stare without a barrier of protection if she did. 

And by god, that man was handsome. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, full mouth a straight line and she wondered if she would be able to find more of those charming patches of silvery hair if she had the opportunity to look more closely again.

"Tell me, what does Shwalbee mean?" The Colonel asked suddenly, his pronounciating a little off but infinitely sexy. 

"Schwalbe," she corrected him quietly, smiling behind her mask. As if he could sense it, he smiled a little as well. "It's German. A type of bird, swallow in English, if you've heard of it?"

"Known for flyin' low, 'specially when storms come through," Ghost grunted, arms crossed over his wide chest.

The Colonel snapped his fingers a little in recognition. 

"La golondrina! An old friend of mine has them tattooed on his neck, stands for freedom, no?"

"Among other things," Schwalbe huffed in quiet amusement at his enthusiasm.

"Pretty birds," Alejandro said, winked and then turned his eyes back on the road. And though she knew it was just meant as a throwaway comment since he didn't actually know what she looked like and couldn't compliment her on anything, her stupid heart still fluttered like she was fifteen.

The days and weeks that followed were packed full of meetings revolving around the two different missions that the Los Vaqueros and 141 had a shared interest in. Since Schwalbe was technically only there on a loan from SpecGru, she didn't always have the clearance required to attend in-depth consultations with Laswell and Price over video chat. 

That had bothered her the first one or two times it had happened, but then she'd started to see the upside of it: It gave her more free time to roam the foreign base, sleep in longer or go out later. 

Her own training hours were rather tame in comparison to that of the many soldiers permanently stationed here, and she found joy in driving out into the desert to teach promising new talent how to fly small planes and helicopters under severe pressure (and stay alive with the help of hair raising off-the-books manoeuvres).  

And sometimes, when she was especially lucky, the Colonel would be around the same places that she was. 

He was always surrounded by some of his men, serious when the need called for it, but most often joking or laughing. His eyes crinkled up in the most charming of ways whenever that was the case, easing the severity of his expression. 

Just now, long fingers pushed back a mop of thick black hair and, not for the first time, there was a distinct lack of a wedding ring on Alejandro's hand. Sure, that didn't have to mean much, but it made fantasizing about getting bent in half and ruined by him a tiny bit less shameful.

Schwalbe watched him in secret from a few tables down almost every day, pushing around the food on her plate and listened only half-heartedly to the chatter around her. Ghost was content to eat in silence by her side, and never commented whenever she let out another wistful sigh like the supportive friend he'd slowly grown into over the years.

It didn't stop the Lieutenant from throwing her meaningful and heavy stares every once in a while though.

"I can't," she'd told him only yesterday with a firm shake of the head, and the Englishman had only tilted his head in consideration.

Today, the Colonel kept throwing glances their way, eyebrows drawn together in concentration like he was trying to solve an especially hard riddle. Schwalbe stared back, secure behind her tinted glasses. 

The green alarm clock digits shone back at her with grim determination, hardly ever moving forward. 

4:25 AM. 

Damn it all.

She'd been awake for over half an hour, heart racing after a nightmare that had slipped through her fingers like smoke. The faintest memory of screaming and blood lingered, but Schwalbe wasn't sure if that came from memory or her overactive mind.

Sighing deeply, she sat up and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed, careful not to wake the other woman sharing their small dorm room. The floor was nice and cool, and she tiptoed out of the door towards the general direction of the kitchen. 

With the base quiet with no one up and about yet, Schwalbe was determined to follow her cravings and stuff herself with at least three chocolate muffins. 

Patting her stomach, she grinned to herself as she turned into the dark room, moved through the stainless steel appliances and countertops and then opened the glorious object of her desires.

The fridge light bathed her in cold blue hues, and she had to stand on tiptoes to reach the dessert shelf.

"Ah, supongo que teníamos la misma idea."

The raspy voice right behind her almost gave her a heart attack. She bumped into the fridge door and almost sent several glass bottles of milk and juice flying, but both Alejandro and Schwalbe barely managed to hold them upright in time.

"E-excuse me?" She stuttered, face aflame at his proximity and her clumsiness.

The Colonel drew his eyebrows together in a frown, his heavy gaze taking in her entire body slowly. Suddenly, the tiny shorts and tank top didn't feel like proper sleeping attire anymore, and Schwalbe fought against the urge to cross her arms in front of her braless chest.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, before muttering something under his breath. The only words she could pick out were 'tourist' and 'kill them' and for the first time ever, Schwalbe felt deeply irritated with the older man. Belong to? What the hell?

"I don't know what you're implying," she said, voice quiet as usual but firm. "But I don't appreciate getting snuck up on in the middle of the night. I think I'll go back to my room now, Colonel. Good night."

Alejandro's eyes widened with every word she spoke, roaming over her face to find... What? A lie? Had she smeared chocolate around her mouth?

Just as Schwalbe pushed past him, clutching another muffin because why not, Alejandro's hand shot out and curled around her bicep, halting her in her tracks. She wasn't quite annoyed enough not to bodily react to him, his calloused fingers so firm and warm on her own skin that it made her heart beat faster.

God, who had given him the right to look this good this early? Alejandro's hair was impossibly soft and hung into his eyes a little, grey sweatpants low on his hips. She swallowed.

"El pájaro sabe cantar," he murmured, voice as warm as his hands now and so smooth that Schwalbe wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever. "I'm sorry for not recognizing you straight away. And excuse me for making assumptions, but it wouldn't be the first time that one of the guys brought back a beautiful woman for the night."

Beautiful-

"What?" Schwalbe asked, completely flabbergasted. The Colonel released her, now that there didn't seem to be any immediate danger that she'd run, and straightened to his full and considerable height. From this close, she could see the small laughter lines around his eyes, and the blue light from the fridge made the grey patch in his beard gleam. 

Dark eyes drank her in hungrily.

"You must confess," he said, grinning. "I had quite the disadvantage here."

What on Earth was he talking abou-

Schwalbe's eyes widened and then her hand flew up and over her face on instinct, obscuring her nose and mouth as she continued to stare at Alejandro.

He frowned, clearly unhappy with her.

How could she have forgotten? She wasn't wearing a mask. 

Sure, sunglasses would have rendered her blind in the darkness, but Schwalbe never left her quarters without the soft piece of cloth. She'd grown so accustomed to it, that it always took her several days while she was on leave to get used to the feeling of a vulnerable face again.

"It's okay," the Colonel said quietly, brushing one hand through his hair. "I will never mention it to anyone if you are uncomfortable with me knowing."

The tiniest hint of sadness had crept into his voice now, and it made her feel bad. Was it really so terrible that he knew what she looked like now? It's not like he was a complete stranger. Ghost had seen her face multiple times, but never had she felt so... raw. Like an exposed wire about to burn through and ignite everything around it.

Slowly, Schwalbe lowered her hand again and chewed on the inside of her cheek. A habit she'd picked up as a child and never been able to drop. 

Alejandro watched the movement with great interest, and at the first taste of blood in her mouth, Schwalbe abruptly stopped. 

"I don't mind," she squeaked, embarrassed. 

The concentrated, almost greedy look was replaced by a grin. Schwalbe wanted to grab his handsome face with both hands and just... squeeze? Pull him closer until they kissed? Climb him like a tree? All of it felt very tempting, the longer the darkness in his gaze ate her up whole.

"Good, because I don't think I would have been able to forget. Anyway, what are you doing up this early, pequeña ave?" His gaze dropped to the chocolate muffin in her hand, and he frowned deeply. 

Feeling oddly defensive over her choices, she straightened her shoulders and tried not to squirm too much under the interested tilt of his head. 

If she didn't know better, Schwalbe would say that the Colonel was checking her out. Impossible. Right? He was Alejandro Vargas, not some wet-behind-the-ears recruit, eager to have a go in an empty barrack. Right? 

Although, it's not like she wouldn't have thrown herself at him right here on this cold kitchen floor if he'd asked. Did that make her into the newbie with an appetite for superiors or something? What a strange thought.

"I'm indulging in my cravings, Colonel," she said. Some of them, anyway. "And these are actually pretty good."

His eyes had dropped to her mouth for a split second, and she smiled, unsure about the ever-deepening frown.

"That's not food," he growled, dismissing her words with a wave of his hand. "Just some trash from the grocery shop that will leave you addicted to sugar at ungodly hours of the night."

"I couldn't sleep," she said stubbornly, scowling now.

"Because you're addicted to refined sugar."

"What? That's not even true!" Schwalbe laughed, finally putting her muffin on the countertop and crossing her arms over her chest. Goosebumps rose along her arms from the slight chill in the air. 

"Every day, you get the sweetest treat that the lunch lady has on offer, and then you eat Ghost's dessert, too. I believe that's the first sign of a problem right there."

Her eyes widened, and Alejandro made a jerky motion with his body like he'd been about to take a step closer and then aborted mid-movement. 

At her laugh, a grin formed on his face. 

The Colonel looked so different like this, up close and relaxed and not surrounded by anyone else demanding his attention for once. Schwalbe wanted to stay here with him, even if it meant having to defend herself against these totally false claims.

She patted her stomach in mock-offence.

"Are you calling me soft, Colonel? Is this some kind of intervention to keep me from going out of shape?" Her quiet voice was teasing, and she tried so very hard to keep the laughter in.

"No," he said, almost a growl in the back of his throat and fuck, that was hot. Alejandro opened his mouth to say more, dark eyes firmly on her face. Just then, the kitchen door swung open and another Los Vaqueros soldier she'd been training the other day sauntered in sleepily, groping for the light switch.

The sudden glare of the harsh light was like a rude awakening to both of them, and Schwalbe hastily turned her back to the young man, before he had a chance to get a good look at her. 

Only now did she realize how close the Colonel and her had been leaning towards each other, how the warm smell of his skin and sleep had lured her into his orbit. The soldier behind them let out a startled gasp and Alejandro glared at him with so much annoyance and squinted eyes, that the poor lad backed out of the still-open kitchen door. 

A rapid stream of Spanish, Schwalbe only caught apologies, followed.

With a sigh, the Colonel pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked back down at her with a serious expression.

"I will take you to Las Almas for some real food, yeah? You can even have some sweet things, but at least they won't come out of a factory then."

Schwalbe tried to swallow back her nerves and rolled her eyes instead. 

"I hope you know that you will be paying since I'm the one perfectly content with my free snacks at base."

Alejandro threw his head back and laughed loudly, then grinned back down at her.

"You didn't think I'd let you pay, did you, guapa?"

As more time passed between that strange encounter in the kitchen and now, Schwalbe started to question if it had ever actually happened at all. 

The only indication that things were a little... different now, was that the Colonel's eyes would find her form almost as much as hers did with him. He'd stare across the yard, or wave from his SUV when he passed, or watch her pull up her mask discreetly to eat.

She knew that he was absolutely swamped with two missions at once, and that everybody always seemed to want something from him at all times of the day, but it still left her a little crestfallen. Their shared assignment was coming up fast, weeks of preparations slotting into place. 

Soon, she'd most likely be stationed elsewhere, and who knew when she'd have the chance to see him again? The thought put such a damper on her mood, that even her trainees started to notice and Ghost kept throwing her more and more glances each day. 

As she stared more or less subtly at the handsome man three tables down, the Lieutenant nudged his chocolate pudding towards her. Not my favorite kind, he'd told her a while ago. I prefer Caramel Fudge.

A dessert was a dessert to Schwalbe, so she happily ate his. 

"He asked for your unredacted file, you know," Ghost grunted, following her gaze. "A little while ago."

She almost dropped her spoon.

"And you're telling me this now? What did you tell him? Did you give it to him?"

Ghost actually looked offended at that. "Obviously not. I told the daft fucker that if he wanted to see your face he should just ask you."

"He doesn't- that's not why he would want to read my file!" She protested, cheeks flushing hotly behind her mask. 

"The unredacted one," Ghost reminded her, eyes rolling as he threw the Colonel another cool look. "He knew about all your previous assignments 'fore we came here, including the last Las Almas job. Bet that's why he asked for you specifically when Price put together some suggestions."

"He never mentioned it."

Ghost shrugged. "I'm not surprised."

Schwalbe glanced over at the Colonel and was pleased to find him staring as well. 

He looked between her and Ghost unhappily, hand clenched on the table as his boys around him laughed and talked, Rodolfo at his side. 

Feeling stupidly brave, reckless and oddly horny all at once, she pushed her mask up much higher than usual, letting it rest over her nose before shovelling another chocolate pudding spoon into her mouth. Grinning, she shot him a thumbs up, and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second, clearly caught by surprise.

Then he grinned back and mouthed not real food at her, which made her giggle and shrug her shoulders, before digging in again.

The next day, Schwalbe declined her dormmates's offer to hit the town with some of the other soldiers, glad to have the room for herself for a little while. She'd just snuggled back into bed with a romantic book and a glass of cheap red wine when an insistent knock sounded at the door.

Thinking that the other woman must have forgotten something on her way out, Schwalbe just called a quiet come in and turned to the next page.

"Am I disturbing you?" The raspy voice of the Colonel asked, and her head shot around to him so quickly, that it was a miracle she didn't crack her neck. 

They stared at each other for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over her spread out form on the bed, then her room. She hastily sat up and pulled her short sleeping shorts down her thighs a little more, chucking the book onto her comforter.

"N-no, not at all," she said, cursing herself for stuttering as soon as his attention was back on her. Alejandro seemed to fill out the room with his mere presence, dark blue shirt clinging tightly to his chest and arms, black army pants snug around his waist and thighs. 

He looked dangerous and capable and so fucking sexy that Schwalbe wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him between her legs, propriety and work ethics be damned.

"I wanted to ask if you're still available tonight," the Colonel said, shifting from one foot to the other but smiling faintly. "Don't think I forgot about our little agreement."

"I-" Schwalbe began, tongue-tied. Yeah, alright. She kind of had lost hope that he'd ever mention their kitchen encounter again. "I'm free tonight. Didn't want to go to the bar."

"Me neither," he shrugged, then pushed his hands into his pockets. "I noticed you didn't come for dinner."

She vaguely gestured to her wine and book set-up. "I was too busy."

"Busy," he echoed, eyebrows drawn, then snatched up the book from beside her and looked it over. "It's not in English!" He complained, and Schwalbe sent up several prayers of thanks over that fact. The two vague people embracing on the cover were mortifying enough.

"It's not." She confirmed, lips pressed together. Then she stood, and pushed him down onto her bed with both hands, until Alejandro sank into her soft mattress and blanket, looking up at her with an unreadable expression, still holding her book. 

Schwalbe swallowed and removed her hands from his shoulders, then took an awkward step back, more aware than ever how exposed her face felt and how much bloody skin her outfit revealed. It would be so easy to slide into his lap right then and there, or push herself between his spread-open legs and-

"I'll get changed," she choked out, hastily grabbing a random assortment of clothes from her small cupboard and disappearing into the bathroom without another look at him. 

"What is it about?" Alejandro called after her, and she could just imagine him turning pages, trying to decipher or recognize words.

"Aliens," she shouted back, splashing her face with cold water and brushing her hair, before changing into fresh underwear for good measure. 

"And what do they do here on Earth?"

There was a definite note of amusement in his voice. Braver, now that she didn't have to face him directly as she answered, Schwalbe bit back a grin.

"One of them falls in love with a human and they start a scandalous affair that has all the alien girls jealous."

She closed her jeans and turned, tying her hair up into a messy high ponytail that would never pass military regulations under normal circumstances. As Schwalbe entered her room again, the Colonel was lounging back on her pillow, idly tracing over random post-it notes she'd stuck into the book, with little comments or exclamation marks. 

When he saw her standing there, he abruptly sat back up.

"You look lovely," he said, serious, then stood and walked past her, holding open the door. Caught off-guard by the remark, Schwalbe hesitated for a moment, chewing her cheek as she glanced at the mask on her nightstand. 

Alejandro said nothing as he watched, and with an internal what the hell, why not, she left the blue cloth lying there and joined him in the empty corridor. His long fingers sprawled out over her lower back for just a moment as he gently turned her down to the left, then they walked to his car in silence, thankfully not passing anyone.

Now that she was up and about, there was a definite pang of hunger in her stomach - and if she was being honest with herself, not only for food. The Colonel looked handsome, beard neatly trimmed with the first signs of grey in stark contrast to the black, eyebrows serious and mouth soft. Jesus Christ, and the smell of him. Clean, like he'd showered before picking her up but also spicy and warm, like a mulled wine in front of a fireplace. 

"Where do you plan on taking me?" She asked, voice softer again, now that there was a chance they could be overheard. He shot her a long glance and an easy smile.

"This little street vendor in town makes the best chalupas you'll ever try. He's been selling on the same corner since I was a little boy, and his granddaughter makes fresh churros and honey-roasted almonds."

"I don't think I ever had chalupa before," she admitted, trying to imitate the pronunciation.

Alejandro opened the passenger door for her and watched her climb in before shutting the door behind her. He rounded the SUV, and Schwalbe wiped her sweaty hands down her jeans, heart racing.

He climbed in as well, then the engine purred to life and they were flying down dirt roads towards the city.

"It's kind of like a taco," he explained, buckling himself in with one hand, then checked if she'd done the same. "But better, trust me."

"And not made in a factory," she teased him gently, and he laughed.

"No, guapa," he chuckled. "Definitely not."

They didn't talk much for the rest of the ride, content to watch the dark landscapes fly by as soft music played from the speakers, occasionally disrupted by static. Schwalbe was highly aware of the Colonel, his proximity and dark eyes that flitted over to her every once in a while. 

He parked them down the street in a parking lot with a gate guard and helped her jump out of the car once more when he'd pulled into their assigned spot.

She wanted to protest that she was more than capable of jumping down herself, but then his eyebrows were drawn together in that concentrated frown once more and his calloused hand closed around her own and she couldn't find it in herself to complain. It's kind of gentlemanly, she reasoned with herself, as Alejandro locked the car and put his hand on her lower back again to steer her in the right direction.

Las Almas was a wild mix of colourful street lights, graffiti, and people. And though the city was and had been plagued by conflict for so long, she found the sandstone houses and crowded streets beautiful, peaceful and alive as they were that night. They blended into the crowds going in and out of tiny bars and hole-in-the-wall restaurants, smells and noise all around.

Schwalbe spotted a few men with weapons down a darker alley, and she saw that Alejandro noticed as well. He shook his head and grabbed her hand, pulling her away with tense shoulders.

She felt sorry for him, for the obvious love and care he felt for a place that others viewed as a lost cause. Gently, she placed her much smaller hand onto his forearm, and the Colonel looked down at her with stormy eyes and a set mouth.

"It's a beautiful night," she reminded him quietly, and he rolled his head over his shoulders a few times before smiling.

"It is," he nodded, then pulled her past some kids playing tag and toward a tiny stall on wheels that housed an ancient-looking grill. Schwalbe vaguely recognized the impressively oiled and twirled moustache from somewhere, as the old street vendor turned towards Alejandro and her. 

The divine smell hit her like a ton of bricks and she was too busy trying to translate the small menu on the cart to notice Alejandro's fond gaze. 

"I can order for you if you would like," he told her gently, and when she nodded gratefully, the two men launching into a familiar sort of conversation. After a few seconds, the Colonel turned back towards her. "Are you vegetarian? Do you want some extra spice?"

"No, meat is fine. And spicy as well."

As he continued to order for them and watched the old man prepare their meals like a hawk, Schwalbe looked up at him, still clutching his hand. Alejandro looked softer here, not surrounded by grey walls and soldiers. The street lanterns bathed him in a pretty glow, and she wanted to listen to him talk in Spanish for hours. A younger woman brought over a tiny paper bag that was already soaked in grease, and Schwalbe grinned as she took it from her.

Alejandro shot her a look. "Some of them are for me."

"We'll see," she teased, as the warm scents of sugar and oil and chocolate wafted up towards them. Alejandro laughed, then dropped her hand to pay the old man, waved off the change under exasperated protest and picked up the container of chalupa for them. 

They ate on a bench nearby, watching people as they went past, some of them more or less drunk and others talking loudly and passionately into phones. It was a nice night, with a cool breeze that brought some relief to the hot humidity that had been plaguing the area for a week now. Alejandro bumped his knee into hers after a while, smiling. 

"And?"

"You didn't exaggerate how good this is," she said around a few bites, and he puffed out his chest in pride. 

"I know," he quirked his lips. Then his face fell a little. "Listen, I- I wanted to ask you something. You don't have to answer me if you think it's inappropriate."

"Okay?" Schwalbe said, fishing out her first churro and biting into it with gusto. "Shoot."

Alejandro watched her lick some grease and sugar off her fingers.

"Are you and Ghost... together? Even just... casually, sometimes?"

She almost choked.

"The Lieutenant and me? No!" Schwalbe laughed, genuinely perplexed. Was it not very much obvious who she wanted to ride into the sunset here? "We have known each other for a long time, and he has become someone that I can rely on and vice versa. We're friends."

Alejandro murmured something under his breath that sounded a lot like thank god, then one big hand suddenly closed around the back of her neck and the underside of her ponytail, the other cupping the side of her jaw and cheek. The Colonel leaned in close, ducking a little so their faces were on the same level. His nose brushed along hers and dark eyes burned holes into her soul.

Schwalbe's breath caught and then he whispered her name, her actual name, like a prayer and like a question all wrapped in one, waiting. 

Her head swam from his proximity, his warm breath so close to her mouth and then, recklessly, she decided to just do whatever the hell she felt like doing. 

Even if everything went south, she could just refuse another assignment here and never have to see his handsome face again. But at least for this one night, she could and would have him, if his needy expression was any indication to how he felt. 

She pressed her mouth to his, sugar and spice between them.

Alejandro groaned and pulled her closer by the neck, his thumb stroking the front of her throat. Schwalbe dropped the bag of sweet treats and buried her hands into his thick hair, beard scraping against her chin and cheeks as he kissed her more urgently. It was good and hard and everything that she had hoped kissing Alejandro would be like.

A loud whistle and the cheers of a few drunk ladies stumbling past brought them out of it, Schwalbe's breath just as heavy as his. Her face and neck felt hot where he had touched it, and he watched her from behind lowered eyelashes, eyes urgent.

"Want to go for a drink?" He rasped, and Schwalbe shook her head, jumping to her feet and pulling him up by his hand as well. 

"No, I'd rather be alone with you."

Alejandro's eyes widened for a moment, as he let himself be dragged after her, then he laughed.

"Siempre los callados," he murmured darkly in her ear, though it didn't really seem to be directed at her. His thick arm wound around her waist and he pulled her in closer as they crossed the busy street, music from the bars blaring and people shouting along to it. "Back to base then?"

Tempting. The thought made her give in to the urge to kiss him again and so they stumbled against the brick wall of a convenience store that had drawn their shutters down for the night. She felt drunk off of him, his scent and the taste of his mouth and the way his thumbs curled around her hip bones, then slid into the back pockets of her jeans to squeeze her ass firmly.

Panting, they parted again, and this time it was Alejandro who dragged her back to his car so quickly, that she had to jog to keep up with his long strides, laughing. He nodded towards the guy manning the parking lot, showed his ticket and then pulled her into him as they stumbled along, fumbling for his keys. 

Alejandro opened the passenger door for her again, but she just pushed him into the side of the SUV and pulled his head down until she could suck his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned as he crushed her against himself, the hard muscles of his body flexing under hers as he groped for the door handle of the backseat instead. 

One insistent grab on both of her upper thighs was enough, then Alejandro bent down a little and picked her up. Schwalbe hastily closed her legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders as he slammed her door shut with his shoulder and somehow managed to turn them. 

Her back hit the soft leather of the backseat, and Alejandro released her long enough for her to crawl backwards and make some room for his much larger frame. They were both breathing heavily, with him still standing at the open door, clutching the frame of the car. 

"Come here," she demanded, and his eyes were little more than black pools of ink underneath his drawn-together eyebrows, as he leaned his forehead onto his arm for a moment, never letting her out of his sight. Then, as he seemed to have taken her in enough for his liking, he crawled into the open space between her legs, turned around only for a moment to slam the door shut behind them, and plunged the interior into darkness. 

He was onto her between one breath and the next, hands sliding underneath her tanktop and massaging both breasts roughly, mouth sucking into the side of her sensitive neck. Alejandro lowered himself between her legs, forcing them open wider with his muscular body. 

Schwalbe moaned softly, hands in his hair as he rubbed himself against her, the pressure between her legs growing.

Fuck, she had fantasized about this moment for weeks, and now that it was actually happening against all odds, she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.

But Alejandro was much too large for the space, bent in half on top of her, letting out tiny huffs of frustration as she arched back into him desperately, sucking at his lower lip.

Schwalbe pushed him off, and he immediately backed away, breathing harshly and looking worried for a moment, but then she pushed him into a sitting position and climbed into his lap. He groaned as he gripped her waist and ass, pulling her closer and over the hard dick straining against his trousers, grinding them against each other. 

Her breathing came quickly as she ripped off her top, and he fumbled around with the clasp of her bra for only a moment before she was completely exposed to him. Hair wild and tickling her shoulders, she steadied herself on his shoulders for a moment, but then he already latched onto one of her nipples, sliding deeper into the leather seat and pulling her flush against himself. 

Schwalbe squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation, the way his beard scraped along her collarbone and the underside of her boobs as he squeezed them again and sucked harder. 

She said his name softly, and he groaned into her chest, hips jerking up and into her core.

Grinding down into him, she put her cheek on top of his soft hair, letting him take over her body however he wanted. And Alejandro wanted. 

His hands couldn't get enough of her, his mouth sucking bruises into her chest as he dry fucked her through way too many layers of clothing. The stimulation against her clit left her wanting for more, and perhaps impatiently, she started pulling his belt free between them, pushing him back as she worked.

He watched her like a shark, chest heaving as her fingers closed around his hard cock, flushed and drooling with precum already. Alejandro helped her push her jeans down, toying with the lace of her panties as she awkwardly shimmied around, knocking their legs together.

She giggled throughout the whole thing, and he smirked back at her, spread out lazily against the black leather. 

When she was finally able to climb on top of him again, she immediately ground her soaked lace panties against his exposed dick, making him roll his eyes back and hold onto her hips for dear life. 

Schwalbe rolled her hips experimentally, the close contact so much better, the heat between them delicious. His thickness pushed her panties aside eventually, and then it was just soaked skin on skin, his cock dragging through her folds and over her clit and ohmyfuckinggod he was huge. 

"I don't have anything," she whined, desperate as she writhed against him.

"Condoms?" He asked, dazed and when she shook her head no, he thumped his head against the headrest, groaning in frustration. But then he slung his arm across her lower back and pressed her closer, her thighs aching from how far she was being stretched right at her core. 

Alejandro braced his feet on the floor more firmly and then he was rutting up between them with hard, precise thrusts that dragged over her clit and entrance in a way that made her want to forget about safe sex and rules and everything if he could just thrust into her-

He kissed the underside of her jaw, then buried his face into her neck as he pressed himself against her, his free hand gripping the leather behind him to steady himself. The air in the car was hot and smelled like sex and them and Schwalbe's head swam from being stimulated on so many fronts. 

Alejandro whined into her skin softly, and she felt herself gush all over him, beyond caring as she jerked her hips down into his lap as best as she could in his iron grip.

And then his thrusts stopped almost entirely, only one, then a second that were the harshest ones yet, and he spilt between them with a deep groan, sticky semen coating her lower belly and pussy. 

She felt hot all over, tingles shooting up her legs and fingertips as she watched him at the height of his pleasure, hair mussed and undone. 

Her own orgasm wasn't far, she could feel it, but when she gave an impatient twist of her hips Alejandro hissed, overstimulated.

"Hold on," he growled, then sat up straighter so she wasn't pressed down right on top of his dick anymore. His hand snaked down between their mess, middle finger pushing through her and over her slick entrance, easily gliding in.

They both moaned at the way she gripped him, spongy walls greedy. He pumped his finger in and out for a second, watching her face as she clawed her fingers into his shoulders, staring back. Then another finger joined the first, stretching her wider.

Schwalbe could do little more than kneel over him as Alejandro thrust them in a little more harshly, the ball of his palm against her clit until he was as deep as her body would allow. 

He picked up his pace, eyes never leaving her face in the minimal light of the parking lot, tinted windows blocking out the world beyond the two of them. Was there anyone or anything out there that would have mattered as much as this man, anyway? The way he curled his fingers and breathed quickly whenever she whimpered made her want to say no.

A third finger nudged her, and she tensed for a moment. Alejandro was slow and careful with that one, easing it in and out slowly until her pussy was stretched and ready for him. 

His thumb rubbed slow circles over her clit and lower lips, and then his head rolled back with a cocky grin. The hand slid lower until it rested over his thigh, fingers almost entirely removed from her.

"Come on, ride me," he coaxed her in a dark, honeyed voice. His other hand slapped her butt lightly, before grabbing the same cheek and massaging the soft skin there. It made her clench around the tips of his fingers and Alejandro licked his lips, waiting. 

Well, he didn't have to tell her twice. And though her thighs trembled from strain and pressure, Schwalbe was a trained soldier. Once she had set her mind to something, she achieved it. And right now, all she wanted to do was ride the Colonel's finger so well and dirty that he'd start bringing condoms everywhere he went, just in case.

So she did. Flexing her abdomen and thighs she ground down and bounced up so recklessly, that the SUV trembled slightly. She slid her own hands down her stomach, meeting his in the mess between them, before rubbing her clit harshly, fast, like she was just riding one of her toys in the privacy of her home instead of the thick fingers of the man who would put his life into her hands in a couple of days. 

Schwalbe mewled and panted and Alejandro groaned, then leaned forward and sucked her tits again until she shattered around him, leaking all over their fingers and his pants and possibly the expensive leather. Aftershocks wrecked her, but she kept going, uncaring about how loud or wild she must appear until a second, smaller orgasm swept over her like an electric shock.

She collapsed forward and into his chest, and Alejandro gently withdrew his fingers from her, then slung both arms around her shaking body, kissing the side of her head and breathing in the smell of her hair. Her heart raced, thumping in her chest wildly and both their breaths were harsh in the quiet interior of the car. 

"Wanted to do that since the first time I had you sprawled out in my backseat," he growled into her ear, tightening his hold. 

TRANSLATIONS fantasma - ghost Ah, supongo que teníamos la misma idea. - Ah, I guess we had the same idea. El pájaro sabe cantar. - The bird knows how to sing. pequeña ave - little bird guapa - pretty/lovely (used in the beginning stages of a relationship or between friends) Siempre los callados.. - Always the quiet ones.

Want some more? The next part is now online! -> Without Your Mask

I can't believe how much this story grew, but I think this was my favorite piece to write for quite some time now! What do you think? 🖤

My general COD writing masterlist with all my stories including this one, a COD headcanons masterlist + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!

Until next time! - A ✨

Orange and rainbow dividers by @cafekitsune 🧡

HI OMG I LOVE UR WRITING!! Can i have something with Alejandro and a LOTTT nipple/ breast play??? please quench my thirst

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, breast play, tiddy sucking, titjob

A/n : god I LOVE tits and I love writing about tits. Show me your tits if you like tits too 😤

Whenever you asked your husband what he loved the most about your body he’d always offer you one of the softest smiles, strong arms enclosing around your way smaller frame in tight embrace. Alejandro then would pressed his lips against your temple, leaving a chaste peck right on your hairline, before murmuring softly:

- Your eyes, cariño.

Bullshit.

Your tits. Your tits have always been the centre of Alejandro’s attention, his eyes gluing to your chest even when it’s enclosed in and hidden by numerous layers of clothing. The sight of your erected nipples never fails to spawn in his mind during nearly every meeting he has with his soldiers on the base, his mind playing a bad joke on Alejandro, recalling how majestically they feel filling his mouth.

It’s easier to name all the times when Alejandro’s hands are not on your tits, calloused fingers squeezing soft pudge of them gently, rough pads of his index fingers barely hovering over your hardened buds in light circles, sending shocks of mild pleasure surging down your body, seeping into cotton of your panties.

Sucking on your tits is literally Alejandro’s favourite hobby. He’s ready to spend the rest of his life with his head tucked under your his shirt, mouth full of your breasts, suckling and nibbling softly, all warm and cozy cuddled up against you. His short stubble prickling soft skin of your upper body, causing you to whine and complain endlessly a few hours afterwards; Alejandro would just coo a soft apology (which is not earnest btw), this only giving him another reason to claw at your chest some more under the guise of applying soothing creme to aching areas.

And the moment you suggested t to give him a titjob? Alejandro is dead already, soul in heaven and dick standing as tall and proud as it could’ve possibly been, leaking precum down thick throbbing shaft. Gurl, he’s nutting the moment he feels the fat of your tits enclosing around his pulsating dick, the only part visible is his brown tip being smothered with absolute softness of your body. That’s probably the first times you’ve ever heard him whine, not groan and hiss like usual, whine like a bitch in heat, so pathetic and greedy for pleasure.

Overall Alejandro is a cheeky bastard, not ashamed of grabbing a handful of your tiddies even in front of friends and family, his bold and playful behaviour just making others chuckle lightheadedly. But even despite his obnoxious obsession with your girls it’s your personality that Vargas loves the most, and only then - your tits<3

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, feedback is very important for writers! Requests are open, send me stuff🩷

Simon screwing you in the shower.

The warm water dripped over your bodies like rain, coating everything inside of the shower with a layer of wetness. Sealed inside the oasis, a thick layer of heavy condensation filled the air, making all that you touched from each other to the walls slick.

Simon's large hand dug into your hip, making sure he had a good, strong grip on your thigh that he held up against his side so that he could thrust inside you easily.

Your hand was pressed against the foggy glass of the shower door, using it as a bit of leverage to keep you steady while those wide, muscular hips of his ground into your own as they rolled his cock into your pussy over and over again.

"Fuckin' hell," that husky voice hit your ears over the sound of the running water. His raw lips had just disconnected from around the tender flesh of your neck to move higher up towards your ear as he left a trail of burning kisses all along the moist surface.

Head back as he worked his magic, you felt him hum into your skin, his hips never loosing speed as he kept that's delirious rhythm steady on. "Cannot get enough of ya," he growled. "Even when I'm inside ya, I need more. I'm fuckin desperate, luv. Goddamn desperate."

Two beefy arms shoved you back suddenly as Simon pulled out of you, making you hit the back wall with a light thud as your body bounced off of it, but quickly you were scooped back up as he wrapped those arms back around your waist to hoist you up, making you throw your legs around him to hold on.

"Goddammit, I can't take it, need more... now," the desperation in his tone made your legs vibrate. Your clit twinged as he moved in and caught your lips with his own, squatting down so that he could realign his cock with your entrance and strike back up into you in one smooth motion.

All this wet, all this warmth, all this tepid flesh at his disposal, that only made the primal part of himself gain full control. As your bodies slipped and slid across each other, your back pressed firmly against the shower wall as your tits were pressed into his chest, he could do nothing more that rut into you like some beast hell bent on getting what was his.

His pace caught right back up to where it was seconds before, not a moment to spare. "You've put me under a spell, ya bitch," he grunted with the force of his thrusts. "I can't stop fuckin' pining for this tight little pussy. Gonna go fuckin' mad."

Your forearms wrapped around his broad shoulders as you held on while he bucked wildly in and out of you. The muscles in his back contracted and released under your fingertips, another sign of just how desperately rough his movements were.

His flesh was on fire, burning for you and only you, and even the water from the shower head was no help in taming it's flames. There was a part of him that worried he would not be able to stop until he had completely devoured everything inch of you; that was how strong his need was.

"Mine," he claimed aloud as you whimpered into his shoulder, his cock hitting that specific bundle of nerve ending inside you. "You're all mine, sweetheart. Ya got that? I can't fuckin' stand the thought of anyone else havin' ya, ever."

"Yes," you breathed, "say it again baby."

He smirked. "You're mine, mine. No one else can ever fuckin' touch ya. I ain't ever sharin' all this beauty."

A blanket of steamy air surrounded you both as the hot warm continued to pour in, locking out the entire world from the inside of the shower so it felt you were a million miles away. To be in such a place, in the throws of passion as Simon declared his claim to you, it was all so overwhelming that your body ached lustfully for release.

Fingernails dug into his back as the last bits of your sanity had you clinging on for dear life, the raw lines across his shoulder blades stinging from the water pouring down the contours of his back. "Goddamn, I just wanna keep my cock buried in you foreva," he hissed at your delicious roughness as your hips rolled over him, the pressure nearly at its peak. You were panting like a bitch in heat and he was doing everything he could to push you over the edge.

Pumping in and out of you with everything he had, his head wandered down the front of your chest as he squat down a little more, his mouth hungrily searching for it's prize. Finally he is able to reach your tit and greedily he took the nipple into his mouth, sucking on the supple flesh as the tip of his tongue rolled around the silk smooth areola.

God your soft breast felt like heaven in between his lips, the damned flesh so juicy. He had to press his body even harder into your own to keep you from slipping, but it was worth it just to keep your tit locked in his mouth.

"Fuck, Simon," you moaned, your fingers running up the back on his neck to his head where you tangled them into his short, wet locks. That mouth was making you vibrate as the sensation of suction sent shocks of pleasure tingling down your spine.

Not one to ever leave any man behind, Simon unlatched from the first breast to give the other the same amount of attention. It was all too much, the pumping between your legs mixed with the tingling sensation at your breasts, and that heated pressure began gathering in the pit of your stomach, about to violently through you off.

Your hips ground more into him, he knows that telltale sign that you are close. Amber eyes met yours again as he moved back up to his full height; he needed to see it, the look in your eyes as you come.

"I know you're close, luv," he says assuredly. "That's it sweetheart, come for me. Come all over my fuckin' cock. Goddammit I need you to come for me...so bad..."

Simon had to have it, you orgasm; he needed to know that your body responded to his in that very precise way that would make sure you'd never stray. He desperately needed to be the one to get you off. And as he staved off his own orgasm, he would.

"Don't stop," you begged as your head fell back against the wall... as if Simon would ever even dream of such a thing.

"Not until your legs are fuckin' quakin', sweetheart."

His thighs were burning with shooting pain as he continued to squat under you, but he didn't stop; it was worthy any amount of discomfort to see you come completely undone.

Your fingers in his hair clenched down, yanking wildly at his hair as with a few more precise thrusts that warmth finally shot through your torso and you rocked forward against with a cry.

"A-ah... f-f-fuck..." you stammered as your orgasm shook through you.

"That's it," Simon coaxed you through it, "ride it all the fuckin' way with me, luv...almost there..."

And not even a few seconds more he followed suit, a gravely roar ripping through his chest as he milked himself completely dry, his body convulsing with the strength of his ejaculation; fuck did you always make him come so hard.

"G-goddamn..." he said through heavy breaths, his soaking head coming to rest with it's forehead against your shoulder.

He did not let you go until you had both calmed, just letting the sound of the running water and your breathing lull you both back down. Picking up his head from your body, he laid a breathless kiss up on your lips, his face resting against your own from sheer exhaustion.

"Told ya you'd fuckin' enjoy it," he said, playful smile plastered to those full lips.

Carefully he set you back on your feet, your legs wobbling tiredly from the exertion. "You could make me enjoy anything," you admitted freely. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Simon's fingers twirled the loose, wet strands of your hair between them. "You got it wrong, luv, ya see it's you that could make me enjoy any fuckin' thing. My beautiful girl, I'd have a right ol time in hell if you were the one to take me there."

His large hand lingered against your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft, supple skin. "You've got me fuckin' whipped, sweetheart, and I am more than fine to keep it that way."

He held you close, peppering your cheeks with stray kisses as he moved you both back fully under the shower head, ready to clean up the delicious mess he had just made.

EXPERIENCE (m.)

könig x inexperienced!reader

tags: age gap, acquaintances to lovers, afab!reader but gn

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, fingering, hand riding (hear me out), pussyjob, talking u thru it, praise, pet names (liebling, little one), size kink/difference, handjob, reassurance/encouragement kink, wet&messy, konig is uncut hehe, squirting

note: konig is in his 40s and reader is in their 20s!

;in which you live in the same building as a really hot, older, military man

9.5k

When you met König, you never expected the harmless interactions to ever evolve into anything substantial. He lived somewhere in the same apartment building as you did, though you didn’t know where exactly. Most times, you would find him in the elevator or cross paths with him in the lobby. 

You knew he was in the military, most of the people living in the building were. It was close to the nearby base and had rent for a damn good price. The way he carried himself, back straight and body seemingly always at attention gave him away. 

He was massive, standing much taller above you with broad shoulders and thick thighs. A lot of the time he was wearing a hood over his face, mostly when he was coming or going from work – which was seemingly all the time. 

On the few occasions that you caught him without the hood, you could tell it was him solely by his build. There was no one else in the building who looked anything like that. 

He was handsome, in a rugged, tired kind of way. He was a lot older than you were expecting him to be – probably in his early to mid forties, you guessed. He had salt and pepper hair, fine lines etched onto his face, and stern eyes from (no doubt) many years in the military. 

You had never properly spoken to him before. Hell, you didn’t even know his name. You greeted him when you saw him and smiled in passing when you made eye contact. Occasionally, he would respond in an accented voice that you longed to ask about. 

The event that changed everything was a fun little night out you had with your friends. You had maybe had a bit too much to drink before finally conceding at your friends’ behest to call yourself an Uber. 

By the time you reach your apartment building, you’re still very buzzed and starting to feel a little nauseous. You stumble to the elevator and impatiently slam your thumb on the button over and over again, losing count as you do. 

“It’s not going to come any faster,” an accented voice drones next to you, nearly making you jump out of your skin. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” you wheeze, hand over your racing heart.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings then,” he says, “Especially when you are intoxicated.”

You huff through your nose, growing annoyed at the prospect of being lectured. The elevator grants mercy and dings before slowly opening. There's a rowdy group of men inside who quickly walk out of the elevator, seedy eyes immediately finding their way to you, scanning your body up and down as they pass by. 

You feel that nauseous pit in your stomach twist as you finally step onto the elevator. Nothing to ruin your jovial mood from a nice evening more than a group of leering men. Living in an apartment building filled with soldiers, it wasn’t unusual to have them stare at you – didn’t mean you liked it. 

You cross your arms over your chest as König steps on, the elevator creaking and groaning under his immense weight. 

“What floor?” he asks softly, glancing at you over his shoulder as he stands in front of the button panel.

“3,” you mumble, leaning against the back wall. You watch him punch in the 3 but not anything else, making you raise a brow, “You live on 3 too?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say another word. You narrow your eyes at his back, if he feels you looking, he doesn’t give it away. The elevator is plunged into silence aside from the quiet sound of the shaft moving up and up until it dings and the doors slide open. 

He steps out first, standing in the threshold to keep the door from closing as you push yourself off the wall. Your head swims for a second and you stumble past him, keenly aware of his eyes on you. 

You wander down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder to see him slowly stalking behind you. His arms hand limply by his sides, his fists clenched into fists but he remains a respectable distance. 

“Why are you following me?” you ask, unable to hide the nervousness in your tone, “You said you don’t live on this floor.”

“Young recruits are tools,” he supplies simply, “I am making sure you make it to your door without any problems.”

That causes you to hum and for a little flutter in your stomach to manifest. You brush it off and pause at your door, pulling your keys out so unlock it. You push it open and step in, letting it hit your back to keep it from closing as you turn to look at your companion.

“Thank you…um…” you clear your throat and look at him expectantly. 

“König,” he supplies simply, arms tucked behind his back, making him look even wider. 

“König…” you repeat, feeling the words on your tongue, “Interesting name. Where are you from?”

“Austria,” he replies almost mechanically, “I will be going now.”

You don’t get to say another word before he’s stalking away and down the hallway, heavy footfalls practically rumbling the ground beneath him. You slowly close your door and lean against it, hand placed over your racing heart – when did that start up? 

You blame it on your inexperience when it comes to men. You’d had a couple boyfriends, pretty standard for someone in their 20s. Your problem was none of them were ever good enough. The over-zealous types who wanted their dicks sucked as gratitude for paying for dinner. Then would turn around and either give you the most lackluster head of your life, barely any foreplay before trying to shove his dick into an unprepared hole. 

You had never given them the chance, once they showed they were only interested in their own pleasure and would more than likely not even think about touching your clit or angling for your g-spot, you stopped them and kicked them out. More often than not, you woke up to a break-up text because of course you did. 

So that was how you were still a virgin and more or less, at this point, given up on dating. You’d been single now for the better part of 6 months and had no intentions of giving any men your own age a shot at it. 

But…you hadn’t considered an older man. Like König. 

At that thought, you pushed yourself off the door and kicked your shoes off, intent on taking a shower to hopefully wash these drunken thoughts out of your head. So he’d been nice and walked you to your door, no questions asked, so what? Didn’t make him any different from men your age. 

As you made it to the bathroom, you felt your stomach finally churn for the final time and found your head buried in the toilet. You cursed yourself for not listening to your friends, who apparently knew your own limits better than you did. 

The next time you see König is just a few days later. You walk into the apartment’s gym on the ground floor, and there he is – sitting lifting weights. You pause when you see him, feeling that traitorous flutter in your chest you were sure you puked out that night you had learned his name. 

You watch the way his biceps flex, bulging so large you’re sure not even two of your hands could wrap around the girth of it. There were some scars littering his skin, most of them white and raised from age but a few that still had that new tissue pink color. You also noticed some fading tattoos encircling his forearms. Fuck, he was hot. 

You hung your head and scampered over to the treadmill, intent on getting your cardio up. 

As you run, you notice a group waltz in, laughing and shoving each other. You glance over at them, rolling your eyes when some of them make eye contact and nudge their buddies. They lean in close and whisper to each other with shit eating grins on their faces and you find frustration building up so you try to ignore them. 

“Quiet,” you hear an accented voice snap, full of authority, “You are disturbing everyone.”

The rowdy young men quiet down immediately and clear their throats, “S-Sorry, Colonel,” one of them utters.

‘Colonel? Is that high ranking?’ you find yourself wondering, making a mental note to look that up later. 

Either way, König manages to make the gym peaceful once again and you finish your workout with no other hitches. 

You grab your towel and dab at the sweat on your face and neck as you swiftly make your way out of the gym, completely unaware of the shadow following closely behind. 

You slow to a stop at the elevator, punching the button to call it as you sip on your water bottle, mindlessly going over what else you need to do with your day. The shadow behind you remains stagnant, still and silent as it lurks behind your unsuspecting form as the elevator opens and you step on. 

He follows, hefty weight causing the elevator to groan as usual. That gets your attention and you jump, placing a delicate hand over your racing heart just like you had before, eyes wide in shock at his appearance.

“You’re doing it on purpose now!” you whine at him and he has to fight back a smile at it. 

“I told you that you needed to pay more attention to your surroundings,” he replies smoothly, pressing the 3 button for you before pressing 5 for himself. 

“How is a guy as big as you able to be so quiet?” you ask softly, making note of the floor he lives on. 

“Years of training,” he gives a quick response that you hum at. There is a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again, “You never gave me your name.”

He sees the way you look at him in surprise and he almost wishes he could rip the words from the air as soon as he says them. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea that he actually wants to get to know you. 

But you smile softly and give him your name with a kind nod of your head before the elevator grants him mercy and dings at the arrival on your floor.

“See you around, König,” you say as you step off. 

He doesn’t respond. 

Once back in the safety of your apartment, you find yourself going through the entire interaction in your head over and over again. Your heart races as you think back on him. 

It's as you’re making dinner for yourself that you finally have the coherent thought of revelation that you may have a crush on König. 

The revelation is almost enough to have you groaning out of frustration into the quiet sanctity of your apartment but you manage to refrain. But you can’t deny you don’t quite know what to do about it now. You had sworn off of men but…that was men your own age. König was…older than you, surely at least 15 years your senior, possibly more. You figure it couldn’t hurt to ask him out for some coffee one of these days. 

Except, the next time you see König is almost 2 weeks later. You don’t see hide nor hair of him at all. It definitely puts a damper on your confidence and you almost think your crush was just a fleeting little thing and for that you’re grateful for. 

Until the elevator opens one day and there he is. He’s wearing his hood but his eyes look even more exhausted than usual – beyond the general tiredness that comes with age. You carefully step on, joining him in the downward descent to the lobby. It’s just the two of you and feel that fluttering in your chest start up again and your hands begin to sweat. You scour your brain for something to say — anything to start up a conversation after so long of not seeing him.

“Haven’t seen you around,” you mutter softly. He hums softly in acknowledgement but doesn’t supply much of a response beyond that, “Where have you been?” you try again.

“Deployed,” he finally responds after several seconds of silence. 

You can’t find any way to respond or keep the conversation going but it’s sure that he has no intentions of doing so anyway. Still, it surprised you that he had been deployed, you hadn’t considered that. It made sense now that you thought about it. 

The elevator opened and you both stepped out. He walked much faster than you, beelining out of the apartment and you briefly considered letting him go but another part of you wanted to stop him and ask him out. 

You cursed to yourself and jogged forward, calling his name. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling for him. He looks down at you over his nose, a burning gaze that makes your nervousness spike. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good time after all. 

“What?” he snaps, clearly impatient.

“Oh um…” you clear your throat and slow to a stop, “N-Nevermind…”

He huffs through his nose and resumes storming out of the apartment. You find yourself sighing deeply, following his lead. When you get outside, he’s nowhere to be seen and you once again find yourself wondering how a man of his size is so good at not being seen. 

A few nights later, the weekend rolls around and you find yourself standing in that damned elevator with him once again. He’s maskless and it gives you pause before stepping on. 

It’s silent for a few seconds before he says, “I am sorry for the other day.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, “Um…what do you mean?”

“I was not polite towards you,” he answers, casting a soft gaze towards you that makes your heart flutter, “I took my bad mood out on you and I should not have. So…I am sorry.”

“Oh…” you clear your throat and give him a smile, “it’s alright, König. I shouldn’t have bothered you with something silly.”

He frowns at you, “Something silly?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, smiling kindly at him. 

He wants to ask you what you mean but the elevator door opens and you step out, making him realize that you reached your floor. You wave your goodbye to him as the doors close and he lets his head fall back with a sigh once he’s alone.

Yet another bad day weighed heavily on his shoulders when you came waltzing into the elevator, bright eyed and happy. His fists were clenched behind his back and he did his best to avoid looking at you, hoping you would take the hint and not speak to him like you usually did. It hadn’t been but a day since he had apologized to you for making an ass of himself in the lobby and he didn’t want to do the same thing so soon after. 

But then you say something that sends it all crumbling down.

“Hey…” you start, fidgeting your fingers in front of you, “Would you like to get coffee sometime? Maybe lunch?”

You ask it so sweetly and softly. For some reason, that grates on his nerves even more than anything.

“What?” he snaps, cold and sharp in a way that makes you visibly freeze. 

You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, “Um…w-well, I just…it’s…I would like to…”

Your nervous babbling only serves to piss him off even more as his glare narrows down on you, making you shrink in on yourself where you stand. Suddenly, the elevator feels much smaller than it had ever before – even with him filling most of the space as usual. 

“You want to go out with me?” he spits, his accent growing stronger with every venomous word that he can’t seem to stop from spilling from his lips, “I am twice your age, what the hell makes you think I would want to date you?”

You swallow thickly around the lump forming in your throat and bite back the tears that threaten to form. He hears you sniffle and promptly snaps his head to look at you. Under the ugly, yellow light of the elevator he can see the tears trickling down your cheeks and he suddenly wants to slap himself into the next decade. 

He wants to open his mouth so badly and apologize for being so cruel to you. He knows he could have told you no in a much softer way rather than making your feelings seem like something revolting or stupid. But the elevator doors open and you’re slipping out before he even has a chance. He decides not to chase after you. 

It’s for the best, he assures himself. 

It only takes a few days before he’s vehemently regretting not stopping you then and there. 

It happens on a Friday night, the elevators are closing just as a hand jumps between them, sending them opening again. You step on, giggling in a way that tells him you’re just a little inebriated. You freeze when you see him standing there, maskless and cold gaze as he watches you tug a young man into the elevator behind you – clearly a little drunk himself. 

You pointedly stand in front of König, keeping your back to him to show that you’re not even willing to look at him. König feels his heart clench painfully in his chest before it’s replaced by a wash of anger as he watches the young man paw at you. He slips his hand down your back to grope at your ass, making you giggle breathlessly before you’re batting his hands away with a little bat of your lashes. 

König wishes he had an excuse to step off the elevator at the same time as you – anything to prolong his time with you. He’s never felt the desire to cockblock someone more in his whole entire life. 

But he doesn’t move. He just watches you step off without a single glance in his direction before you’re vanishing around the corner and the elevator doors close silently, leaving König alone with his thoughts. 

You couldn’t believe you brought this guy to your apartment. You especially couldn’t believe you were letting him strip you of your clothes and paw at your body like some kind of mindless dog. You had sworn to yourself that you were not going to fall into this trap again – a 20-something year old guy buying you a drink, complimenting you a little, teasing and groping you in the club until you caved and brought him home. It wasn’t your first go around – and it always ended the same way.

But you were drunk and you needed to get your mind off that stupid, giant Austrian military man that lived in your building. And wouldn’t you know it, he was on the elevator as soon as you got in. It was almost enough to sober you up, your wounded pride and feelings still so prevalent even after a few days of nursing the hurt. 

You could only hope that this would relieve you of your hurt feelings. 

Unfortunately, you quickly realized that this was a mistake. 

As soon as he started groping you, spreading your legs and trying to stuff his cock inside you without so much as a single finger of prep – you knew this wasn’t going to happen.

You tried to lead him, thinking maybe he was a little too tipsy to actually think about it.

“How about a little prep, hm?” you ask softly.

He pauses what he’s doing and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, “Oh…you’re one of those…”

He says it in disgust and you feel yourself bristle in annoyance, “One of what?”

“You want me to eat you out, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “That shit’s gross, c’mon just let me stick it in, already.” It was that moment that you felt any minute desire you had to have sex evaporate. 

You don’t even bother walking the guy out, leaving him to limp to the elevator in shame with a hard cock and blue balls.

It takes you a few days to find it in yourself to crawl out of your apartment. The only reason you actually do leave is because you’re in need of food – your little supply of ramen has depleted and you have to bite the bullet. 

After your little shopping trip at the nearby convenience store, you find yourself waiting for the elevator when a dark shadow looms over you. You feel a pit of dread in your stomach as you smell the musky, sweet scent of his cologne. But you don’t dare acknowledge his presence. 

He doesn’t give you long to ignore him, however, before he’s talking to you.

“How was your little date?” he asks, voice dripping in a tone of condescension that immediately puts you on edge. 

“What’s it to you?” you hiss, still not daring to look at him. 

He scoffs, “You went and found yourself a little toy to play with awfully fast. Seems your interest in me wore off quickly, no?”

That gets you to finally turn around, meeting his cold, indifferent gaze with your hot, teary one. You miss the look of surprise that flashes over his face.

“What is your problem?” you snap, “You rejected me, what the hell do you care what I do? And for your information, the date was shit. He was shit, like I should have expected any difference. God, I really am a fucking idiot,” you find yourself rambling, a lamenting spiel that you can’t seem to stop no matter how badly you want to, “Just like every prick before him, he was selfish and revolting. I thought I could finally get fucking laid and just call it a day but no, my stupid standards are too high and I find myself asking out the hot older guy in my building only for him to find me revolting!”

By the time you’re done ranting, the doors open and you storm out of the elevator, angrily gripping your bag of groceries. König is frozen where he stands, watching you leave as the doors slowly close – almost begging him to put his hand between them and stop them so he can chase after you. 

But he doesn’t.

It’s creeping up on midnight when there’s a knock on your apartment door. You’re curled up on the couch, watching some random show that you weren’t really invested in but couldn’t be bothered to change. 

The knock makes you jump, startled, but get up nonetheless. A quick peek in the peephole tells you exactly who it is before you even open it. 

You briefly consider not opening it period but find yourself opening it before you actually settle on a decision. 

König stands in front of you, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, looking comically small. The sight is almost enough to get you to crack a smile. Almost.

But the residual hurt from the last few interactions you’ve had with him is enough to keep you stoic. You raise a brow and you practically see his confidence falter. A pang of guilt goes through you at the sight and you step aside, waving him in with a quiet huff. 

He closes the door behind him softly, kicking his boots off as he watches you wander into the living room. You take a seat on your couch, covering yourself with your throw blanket once again as you watch him wander in, gazing around at your decor before finally settling on you. 

“Um…” He clears his throat nervously and places the flowers on your coffee table, “I think that we should talk…”

“Should we?” you quip back.

He sighs, broad shoulders heaving with the movement before he takes a seat beside you, taking up a hefty amount of space on your small couch. 

“I want to apologize,” he says softly, folding his hands in his lap, “When you asked me out…I-I should not have spoken to you like that.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “If that’s all this is about, König, then you can go. I-I don’t really want to hear a half-assed apology about the way you rejected me. You’re not interested, let’s just move on from it. I’ll get over it.”

He shakes his head quickly and curses under his breath, a word you don’t understand – German, your brain supplies, helpfully.

“You are wrong,” he says, “I do not want you to get over it because I am interested.”

The gets you to perk up, eyes wide, “What do you mean? You said you–”

“I know what I said,” he mutters, “I am…twice your age…”

“So you mentioned before…” you reply.

“I do not think…you should be with someone old like me,” he continues softly, “You should be with someone your own age. That is what I thought. It is not that I don’t find you attractive; I think you’re sweet and lovely. But it's just…our age difference…”

“König,” you stop him from continuing, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

“I understand that but…” he trails off, casting a sideways glance across the room, away from you.

“I’ve tried dating men my own age, König,” you say, “It always ends the same – I send them home blue balled.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose and finally sets his gaze back on you, “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t plan to…” you begin, running your hand along the soft fabric of your blanket, “it’s just that...I bring them home and then we start getting into it and it fucking sucks!”

“Sucks..?” The question is soft and drawn out. 

“He wants to fuck my throat and won’t even give me his fingers before trying to stick his dick in,” you spit, angrily glaring at the tv as you remember all your shit encounters, “I’ve never even let one of them go all the way.”

“You’re a virgin…?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “I guess. I mean I’ve had shitty oral and stuff but…”

“I see…” he trails off, shifting in his seat, hands still folded in his lap, “Well, I would like to take you out for a date after all.”

You find a smile spreading across your face faster than you can stop it. You jump to your knees and throw your arms around his shoulders with a squeal of happiness, “Really? You mean it?”

He laughs breathlessly, a husky little sound that makes your heart race, “Does this weekend work for you?”

You eagerly nod your head and lean in. You catch the way his eyes widen briefly before your lips meet. You think he’s going to pull away from you but instead he cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss. 

You feel a shiver go through you at the feeling of his big, strong hand holding you there in the kiss. You couldn’t keep yourself from getting wet even if you wanted to. 

With your hands pressed against his firm chest, you toss one leg over his lap and find yourself seated on top of him. He breaks the kiss at that, hands migrating to your waist where he mindlessly strokes his thumb over the skin exposed by the way your shirt rode up.

You lean down and kiss him again and he groans against your mouth. You grind down against him in response to the throb that makes your pussy clench around nothing. You whimper into the kiss when he suddenly stops your movements with a firm grip. 

“We shouldn’t, liebling,” he whispers softly.

“Why not?” you whine, settling in his lips. You briefly realize that you can feel something hard beneath you and that makes you start dripping in your panties, “Don’t you want to?”

“I-I do…” he assures, “I just…want to properly court you…”

He couldn’t get any sweeter if he tried. Still, you quip back with a teasing little smile, “Wow, you are a lot older than me, huh?”

You feel giddy when the sweet look in his eyes melts away into something darker. One hand clasps the back of your head before he pulls you in for a much rougher kiss. You keen as you feel the way he exudes experience – the kiss like nothing you have ever experienced before. 

The way he moves his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth to taste your mouth, it’s not gross or too much the way it sometimes is with men who don’t know what they’re doing.you find yourself moaning into the kiss before you even realize it. 

He pulls away at that, a heady look in his pretty, blue eyes. You find yourself briefly lamenting the loss of his mouth but that thought disappears quickly when he moves to begin peppering kisses along the length of your neck, making sure to nip at your jaw and kiss your shoulder. 

He tugs the hem of your t-shirt down just a bit so he can have access to your collar bones, nipping and kissing there as well. Your head falls back as you surrender yourself to him completely. 

“Oh,” he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear, “You are just so sweet for me, aren’t you, little one?”

You practically whimper at his words as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your skin. You squirm in his lap as his touch tickles you on his way up to your breasts, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his roughened palms. 

You sigh into the quiet room, arching your back to press deeper into his hands. His thumbs graze over your nipples and you moan. 

Sure, you’ve had guys grope your tits before but it had never felt like this. The mindless squishing and squeezing was replaced with soft cupping and gentle brushes over your nipples until they hardened followed by pinches and flicks that left you absolutely dripping in your panties.

He takes mercy on you quickly, one hand sliding down your body to slide under your sweatpants and beneath your panties. Your hands grip his shoulders, blunt nails biting into them when one broad finger slides down, the sticky noise of your folds separating enough to send heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in a tone so soft you almost think it wasn’t meant for you, but then he tacks on, “Do you hear it?” 

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, embarrassment flooding through you at the sticky, clicking noises that come along with his prodding, “N-Never been this wet before, König…”

That causes him to pause, blue eyes gazing at you through his eyelashes, “Is that so..?” You desperately nod your head, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his hand, but he doesn’t move again and you whine, “Has anyone ever made you cum on their fingers?”

“J-Just me,” you answer breathlessly without a second thought. 

He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins moving his hand again. This time he introduces more fingers, spreading your folds apart with his index and ring so he can pet your hardened clit with his middle. The feeling makes tremors run through your body and he huffs a laugh, “I guess I will show you what it feels like then, yeah?”

He doesn’t give you a moment to think let alone answer before his middle finger is sliding into you. The one digit alone is enough to stretch you, given how massive he is in whole. He crooks his finger forward and a moan rips from your chest when he hits that gooey little spot inside you. 

“A-Another, please, König!” you beg shamelessly.

“Shh,” he hushes, shaking his head, “Let me work you open on this and then you can have more.”

You practically wail in despair, letting your forehead drop forward onto his shoulder. You suddenly wish you had rid yourself of your clothes so you could see the way his hand worked against you. All you could see now was the faint movement under your pants but the mental image of that thick finger inside you, slick with your juices was enough to have you clenching desperately around him. 

After a moment, he adds a second finger and you feel like you’re in heaven. The stretch is phenomenal and his palm bumps against your clit every time he sinks them into the last knuckle. 

However, before he can set a rhythm to really start getting you off, he stops. You angrily lean back and glare at him – the sight has his lips quirking up.

“Ride my fingers,” he orders you, leaving no room for arguing.

You can tell he’s not going to give you anything unless you take it for yourself so you sit up higher on your knees so you can have the clearance to move. Your hands remain on his shoulders, clinging to him for stability as you clumsily begin to rock your hips. The only time you’ve ever done these movements is when you tried humping your pillow once after seeing it in some porn. It didn’t really do much for you so you never tried again. 

König can tell your movements are clumsy and it makes his cock throb against his thigh. He helps you along, crooking his fingers just right to grind the tips against that sweet little spot inside you. It makes you moan beautifully and he files the noise away. 

His other hand comes up to grip your hip, steadying you as you continue to hump his fingers. You’re growing more and more frustrated as you quickly realize that you’re not able to make it feel as good as he had earlier. The tearful little gaze you give him has him breaking, using the hand on your hip guiding you into more seamless movements. 

“Like this, liebling,” he directs softly, “Grind down like that, mhm, give that little clit some love, yeah?”

You become increasingly breathless as you work yourself higher and higher under his expert guidance. He can feel your juices dripping down his wrist, the snug hold around his fingers growing even tighter with every little rut of your hips. 

“You’re so precious,” he coos, feeling the way you clench up at the sound of his voice. Your body is so honest, telling him what you like without you having to say anything, “You’re going to cum, I can feel it. Be good and give it to me, yeah?”

You surge forward and desperately kiss him, one hand reaching down and gripping his wrist. It takes only a few more, desperate thrusts of your hips for you to topple over that edge. Your body trembles on his lap and you cry out in pleasure. 

He moans alongside you, watching with rapt attention as you cum all over his fingers just like he told you to.

You slump against him as you come down and he pulls his hands out of your pants. He presses a kiss against your temple in silent praise, hands rubbing your back to soothe you through the aftershocks that run through your body.

You lean back and meet his gaze, an opportunity he takes to slip his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth. At that, you surge forward and kiss him, running your hands down his body to pull at the button of his jeans. He grunts into your mouth, brows furrowing at the release of pressure when you tug the zipper down.

You’re absolutely speechless when you finally pull his cock free. He watches in poorly concealed pride as you gawk at the length in your hand. You give him a slow and tedious tug, watching the foreskin roll over his head, forcing a bead of precum from the tip. 

“You’re so…big,” you whisper breathlessly.

“I know,” he grunts, unable to hide the ebbs of pleasure you give him as you play with his cock.

“Cocky,” you tease softly, continuing with your soft touches. 

“N-Not cocky,” he whispers, licking his suddenly dry hips, “Just aware of my size.”

You drop your eyes back down to his cock, hot and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don't even touch each other when wrapped around him. Precum drips from the tip, leaking down the side to meet your palm and aid in the movements. 

He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge in someone else’s hand. Your palm was so soft, much softer than his own, and delicate in your inexperience. 

He reaches down with one his hands, wrapping around yours to make you squeeze tighter, “Just like that, little one, that’s how I like it.”

You could have drooled as he said it. His hand dwarfed yours and the sight made you clench around nothing, more slick leaking into your already ruined panties. 

“Let me see you, liebling,” he whispers breathlessly, fingers hooking on the hem of your top.

You release his cock to lift your arms, letting him tug the fabric over your head. His hands are on your tits immediately, mouthing at your nipples without wasting a second.

“So pretty,” he coos with his mouth full, rolling his tongue over your nipple before nipping the bud with his lips.

He switches to the other one, wrapping his mouth around it, sucking sharply before pulling back, taking your nipple with him before releasing it with a pop. You watch with lidded eyes as he drools all over your tits. His cock flexes and twitches against your thigh as he plays with your tits.

Suddenly, with a firm grip on your waist, your whole world flips and you find yourself on your back on the couch with König on top of you. You lick your lips at the sight of his big, broad form hovering above you, caging you in as he leans down to kiss you again.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth, threading your fingers through his short, messy hair, using the grip to pin him against you. He lets you kiss him to your heart's content, only pulling back when you need air – a string of spit connecting your lips that breaks when he leans back between your thighs. 

His fingers took into the band of your pants, tugging them down, taking your panties with them until you’re completely bared before him. He’s still completely clothed aside from his cock that rests against his abdomen, occasionally twitching as his eyes rake over your nude body.

“Tell me, liebling,” he says, strong hands running up the length of your thighs, “Has anyone ever eaten you out?”

You clumsily nod your head.

“Was it good?” he asks, biting back a smile when you shake your head.

“Guys always think it’s gross or something…” you whisper softly.

He hums softly, “That is because you’ve been messing with stupid little boys.”

“You gonna eat me out, König?” you ask him, biting your lip in a poorly concealed excited grin.

“Would you like me to?” as he asks, he slowly spreads your legs open. The position causes your folds to spread apart, opening you up for his greedy eyes.

You feel your breathing speed up as he kisses down your body, starting with your lips and ending right above your clit. You feel the little bud twitch in anticipation as he tongues the skin above it, giving you a sneak peek on what is so close to it. 

“Tell me,” he says.

You whine, “Y-Yes, I want you to eat me out, König!”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t bother teasing you anymore. He meets your gaze and moves his tongue lower finally, sliding the flat of the muscle of your clit. You gasp and toss your head back into the cushions, eyes rolling back as he noisily slurps at your cunt. 

“O-Oh god!” you wail, hiccuping out noises of pleasure that you can’t seem to quiet.

König is in heaven. It’s not every day that he gets the opportunity to eat such a pretty, inexperienced little cunt. Your reactions to everything are so strong and loud. Your pussy is loud too, squelching in the room, making an intoxicating melody with your moans. He moans against you, swallowing down everything your messy little pussy drools out for him.

“Th-That feels so good, König!” you sob, kicking your feet mindlessly against his back as he captures your clit in his mouth, suckling at the bud, “You’re so good, so good, oh god!”

Never in a million years did you think being eaten out could feel this good. The mindlessly, halfhearted licks and kisses you had received in the past did nothing to prepare you for what it felt like to really have a man’s tongue on you. 

He pulls away suddenly, giving you a moment to actually breathe, “You taste so sweet, liebling.”

“König…” you whimper, looking up at him with lidded eyes, “Please, please don’t stop.”

You tug at his hair and attempt to pull his mouth back down on your pussy. You don’t care how pathetic and desperate it is, he has given you a taste of pleasure you’d never experienced before.

He has the audacity to laugh at you, brushing your hands away so he can sit up straight again. He scoots closer and you realize then that he is not planning to continue and it practically draws a sob out of you. 

“We can focus on that another time, liebling,” he promises, making you clench around nothing, more slick dribbling out for him to see, “You are so messy, you know that? Never had someone make such a mess all over me before. You must really enjoy being eaten out, huh?”

You feel your face burn hot with shame at his words, shyly hiding your face away. He smiles softly at that, “Nothing to be ashamed of, liebling…I love it, I do.”

“Really?” you quiver out the question and he nods his head.

“Yes, little one,” he coos, “I’m glad that I can make it feel good for you.”

You practically feel hearts in your eyes as he says that. You don’t think you’ve ever had a man tell you that he actually cared and enjoyed your pleasure. That was the final nail in the coffin for you – you really should have been going after older men all this time.

He disrupts your thoughts by suddenly stripping his shirt off. Your mouth goes completely dry at the sight of his bared skin – firm muscle, hair speckled all over his torso, and numerous scars from untold stories of his time in the military. You take note of the faded tattoos that become visible on his pecs and biceps; you’d always noticed the tattoos on his arms but you’d never really been given the opportunity to look. 

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper.

He pauses while ridding himself of his jeans and smiles, “Thank you, little one.”

When he’s completely bare to you, you slowly rake your eyes down the entirety of his newly exposed body. His cock hangs heavy under its own weight, glimmering at the tip with his precum. You’d never been with a guy who was uncut but the sight made you drool. 

“Now, liebling,” he says suddenly, getting your attention. He scoots closer, spreading your legs as wide as he can before laying the hefty weight of his cock against your cunt. It’s hot and throbbing and your entire body trembles at the sight, “You have to understand something.”

“What..?” you ask, breathless and unable to look away from his cock. 

“I am not like those little boys you were running around with,” he explains, hips slowly beginning to rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, drawing a sweet little moan from you, “I don’t stick my cock in a tight little cunt and blow my load, do you know what I’m saying?”

You shake your head, too lost in the sight and feeling of him practically fucking the outside of your pussy. He doesn’t stop the mind-numbing rolls of his hips, letting you get lost in the feeling of him stroking over your clit, saturating him in your cum. 

“That means,” he sighs, reaching up to grip your throat, forcing you to look at him as he leaned over your body, sandwiching his cock between the two of you, “I don’t cum easily, liebling. I am a grown man, I will fuck you until you cannot cum anymore. Are you prepared for that?”

The fact this man was so confident in his abilities in bed has you clenching around nothing again. You were sure the guys you almost slept with would never have been able to have the pure confidence that came from König. He knew what he was doing – he knew how to make you cum and he was going to use that experience well. You knew his age played a factor in how long it would take him to cum and you couldn’t wait to experience it.

“I want it so bad, König,” you beg softly, “Please?”

“Very good,” he praised, “You’re so good for me.”

He finally gripped the base of his cock and you watched excitedly as he pressed the tip against your entrance. You reached down and wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them back for him so he could comfortably begin pressing into you.

The stretch is beyond anything you’d ever felt before. You knew his cock was big but watching the bulbous tip press against you and slowly spread you wide open was something else entirely. It burned in a way that had you wincing, furrowed brows making your face pinch up, making König pause. 

“It’s okay, little one,” he whispers, bringing a big thumb up to roll over your hard little clit, “Just relax for me, don’t clench up or it will hurt more.”

“I-It’s so big, König!” you wail helplessly, tearily staring up at him as he methodically works you open on his cock.

“I know,” he assures, still stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb, “But you can take it.”

You tearfully nod your head and do your best to relax your body, letting yourself sink into the couch. 

“Good, liebling, very good,” he coos, “Just let me in, nice and slow. Doesn’t it feel nice? The little burn of being stretched open but the pleasure of having this pretty little clit played with? Just lay back and enjoy it, little one.”

He’s right, of course. The burn aches, yes, but the pain and pleasure mixes the more he rubs your clit. You clench around him, an involuntary reaction that causes the head of his cock to finally pop in. Your eyes widen as you watch your cunt swallow it and with a perfectly timed tap against your clit, your back arches and you’re cumming.

“O-Oh König!” you squeal, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum around the head of his cock and nothing else.

“Oh, that’s good,” he grins, “That’s perfect, little one.”

As you come down with a tremble in your thighs, you finally fix your gaze on him once again.His eyes are lidded and pupils are blown so wide you can’t even tell they’re blue anymore. 

“That looked like a good one,” he comments almost flippantly before he rolls his hips forward, “Now you’re nice and ready for me.”

You choke on a gasp as he rolls his hips forward, fitting half of his cock inside your still spasming cunt. Your cum coats him in a slick sheen that aides in allowing him to pull back and slide back in, settling on fucking you on half his cock.

Your mouth falls open and you watch as a thick, milky ring forms around that fat middle part of his shaft, “M-More, König! Please!”

He knows you want all of him, want to know what it’s like to feel all of him stuffed deep inside you. But he knows you’re not quite ready for that yet, fucked out of your head from the intense orgasm he had just given you with ease.

“Not yet, liebling,” he coos, keeping his pace slow and steady, “Let’s work you open a little bit more, yeah?”

“No,” you whine, “Please, I want it all, König.”

“Aww, I know you do, little one,” he pants, already feeling dizzy from spearing you on his cock, “But I know what’s good for you, just listen to me and be good, okay?”

“Okay…” you pitifully whimper, sinking back into the couch. 

You abandon your hold on your legs, letting them rest around his hips limply now. He continues moving like that, inching deeper and deeper into you with every thrust. Your cunt makes embarrassingly loud squishing noises the move he works his hips against you. 

Before you know it, you’re watching with wide eyes and an open mouth as his pelvis presses against yours. Your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl in pure pleasure as you finally experience the entirety of everything König has to offer. 

You’re speared wide open and the head knocks against your cervix painfully but the little bit of pain only makes the pleasure that much sweeter. 

“There we go, little one,” he coos sweetly, “I’m so proud of you, took all of my cock so well.”

He’s so big that he presses against every sweet little spot inside you without even trying. But, oh, his experience is crystal clear in the way he moves. He may be naturally gifted with a nice, fat cock but he knew how to use it.

Seamless, rhythmic thrusts had your brain going fuzzy before you even knew what was happening. You wouldn’t have been able to be quiet even if you wanted to. You knew you would be absolutely horrified to face your neighbors later because it would be impossible for them to not know you got fucked real good. 

Suddenly, König leaned over you, resting one forearm above your head to hold his weight off of you. The position caused his pelvis against your clit every time he sunk balls deep. Sticky strings of your cum stuck to his skin but he didn’t seem to even notice how wet you were.

But, oh, he did. He was absolutely obsessed with the way you creamed and gushed around him. A nice, pliant little pussy that was more than eager to swallow every inch of his cock.

The change in position had you grappling onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wailed into his shoulder. Every mind-numbing snap of his hips hit that gooey, tender spot inside you that had your entire body twitching from the pleasurable stimulation. Your nails bit into his back and he briefly thought about the prospect of his recruits seeing them. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, pressing a sweet kiss underneath your ear.

You nod your head, “Y-Yes! You’re gonna make me c-cum again, König!”

He chuckles under his breath, “I know I am, little one. I’m going to make you squirt.”

“C-Can’t,” you heave, twitchy legs kicking against his back.

“Yes, you can,” he assures, leaning away to sit up once again, “I can make you squirt, trust me.”

The whine you emit pitches into a squeal when he presses his palm against your lower stomach. You reached down in a panic to grab his wrist, not used to the strange feeling of him pressing down while he fucks you. 

“W-Wait!” you wail.

“Wait for what?” he asks, but doesn’t slow even a bit in his movements.

“F-Feels weird!” you gasp, hiccuping as you squeeze his wrist. 

“I know,” he grunts, brows furrowing at the feeling of you clenching around him, “It’s supposed to. Just lay back and let it happen, liebling. I’ve got you.”

Your whole body trembles and your jaw drops as you meet his gaze, a look of wonder crossing your face as you feel an orgasm like you’ve never felt before crash over your body. It’s long, drawn out and almost painful from how good it feels. You squeeze tight around him, your clit twitching and pulsing, completely untouched as he makes you squirt. It splashes against his abdomen and drips down his thighs. 

“There we go,” he laughs, a sound that sends a flush of embarrassment to your face, “See? I told you you could do it.”

“König…” you slur, feeling as if you’ve been fucked completely braindead.

It finally dawned on you that you would never, ever be fucked by anyone as good as König has fucked you. The first cock you’ve ever been stuffed full of and he made you squirt with terrifying ease. You were completely ruined, no dick would ever be able to compare to his. 

He sees the way your gaze turns completely enamored, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. He grins, sharp canines poking out as he leans down again, kissing your temple.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, “Dick so good it’s got you in love?”

You keen at the pure condescension that drips from his voice. But he’s not wrong, you can practically feel the hearts in your eyes as you gaze up at him.

You have no idea how long you’ve been pinned beneath him, speared open on his cock while he fucks you absolutely stupid. You notice the change in him quite suddenly. His deep, concentrated thrust changed into something less calculated, messy almost. He loses his rhythm and falters in his pace.

“I’m going to cum, liebling,” he grunts, tone pitchy and gruff, “Where do you want it?”

“Inside!” you immediately cry, not missing a beat. He sees your eyes light up at the prospect of being filled up completely by his cum. You’re so sure it’s going to be a lot, you want to feel it drip out of you as a reminder that he had claimed you.

“Is it safe?” he huffs, but you can feel his cock twitch inside you at the idea of cumming inside you.

You desperately nod your head and he allows himself to fall over that edge. He teeters on his knees before collapsing with his hands on either side of your head. He no longer tries to thrust, settling for desperate, deep grinds that stirs his cock within your walls. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling, another orgasm washing over you before you even realize you’re that close.

“Oh, fuck,” König gasps, voice breaking as your orgasm sends him over the edge.

You’re panting and whimpering, trembling as you feel the heat of his load filling you up. His cock twitches with every spurt of cum. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in a long time, his balls throbbing with every pump of cum his cock spits out. 

It oozes from around the tight seal you have around him, dripping onto the couch. He’s trembling by the time the intense orgasm comes to an end. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, to see you sleepily staring up at him with a dazed smile on your lips.

“Mein Gott…” he huffs out, lowering his body to press his lips against yours sweetly, “That was incredible, liebling.”

You beam under his praise and wrap your arms around his neck, “It was, wasn’t it?”

He chuckles and strokes his thumb against your cheek, “Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you agree.

The care he gives you afterwards is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. He wipes your body down gently, careful not to rub your skin too hard. He stands with you in the shower, towering over you as he lathers your exhausted body with soap. 

“Can we do that again sometime?” You ask softly when he crawls into bed beside you – which you were shocked about, but didn’t complain.

He raises a brow and chuckles, “Yes, liebling. But not right now, I could not go another round so soon.”

You giggle and snuggle into his broad chest, practically preening when he wraps you up snug against him. You sigh softly and speak up again, “Can we…still go on that date..?”

He’s quiet for a moment before you feel a kiss on the top of your head, “Of course, liebling. I would love to.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, content to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is another soft kiss against your head. You realize, sleepily, that you’ve never felt more cared for by a man in your life.

property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

strip poker (pt. 1)

Task Force 141 (and Los Vaqueros) x fem!reader

Summary: It started simply. An invitation out to the base for just a night of drinking since some of Soap’s buddies from Mexico were in the U.K. for a visit. You had just planned to tag along as his plus one for the night and enjoy some drinks with his old military buddies.

But then Soap’s CO, Price, brought out some cards.

Tags: afab reader/fem pronouns/anatomy, unprotected PIV sex, riding that vaquero, naked reader, clothed male, voyeurism, EVENTUAL ORGY I PROMMIE, 18+ smut beyong this point

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: hellooooooo the long awaited fic of strip poker that was all started from this ask. this is just a part one (of 2 parts bc y'all wanted the orgy....sigh) and i thought i'd give rudy some love bc he doesn't seem to get a whole lot <3

find it on ao3 here!

next part

It started simply. An invitation out to the base for just a night of drinking since some of Soap’s buddies from Mexico were in the U.K. for a visit. You had just planned to tag along as his plus one for the night and enjoy some drinks with his old military buddies.

But then Soap’s CO, Price, brought out some cards, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at you and suggested a round of poker. You then confessed that you didn’t know how to play poker, much to everyone’s apparent amusement. Soap’s friend, Gaz, sat next to you and offered to help teach you the basics of poker. But after a disastrous first three games, in which you were beaten royally by everyone else at the table, you were ready to give up, before Soap declared he wanted to up the ante, a dangerous glint in his eye, and suggested they switch to strip poker. You just rolled your eyes at Soap’s suggestion, but the other men in the room nodded with a few chuckles, overruling you.

“I feel like this is a setup,” you grumbled, pulling in your new cards as Price dealt them.

“Just an incentive to win, hen,” Soap said, his teasing grin giving away his true motivation.

After a few starting rounds of the new game mode with you soundly losing, they made a deal with you; they got to pick which article of clothing you took off if they won, you got to pick who stripped if you won. You agreed, though at that point, you were down to your shirt, pants, and everything underneath, having exhausted your “shoes and socks count as one article of clothing” argument.

Not that it helped you, as you seemed to be losing consistently. Though Soap seemed to be the second worst player, so you got him down to his pants at least. Ghost, Soap’s L.t., was winning and had all of his clothes, while the rest had lost just a couple of pieces.

You finally folded when they got you down to your bra and panties, now just resigning to sit back and watch. But then they argued that whoever wins got to tell you what to take off. You just rolled your eyes, but went along with it.

When Ghost won, again, he told you to take the bra off. you did, but you kept an arm over your breasts, so they were still sort of covered. They all groaned at that, tired of the teasing.

“C'mon, hen, let us see,” Soap whined.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you removed your arm. But when they all moaned appreciatively and Gaz, nearest to you, tried to make a move, you swatted him away. “New rules, boys: you can look, but you can’t touch yet.”

So, it was back to more whining and groaning.

But soon, Price won the next hand, and his eyes drilled into you. “Panties off, love,” he ordered, every bit of the captain, then patted his lap. “C'mere.”

You stood and shucked off your panties, tossing them to Rudy who was on your other side. Somehow you managed to evade Alejandro's hands and on your way to Price's lap. His hands were around your waist as soon as you sat down, possessive and low.

“New rules,” he growled out against your neck. “Whoever wins gets to fuck her while the rest watch. Got it?”

You gasped as he started to play with your nipples, while the rest nodded eagerly. Gaz dealt the next hand, his gaze barely getting ripped away as you squirmed on Price’s lap as he teased you. You vaguely looked at the cards in Price’s hand--nothing too terribly round-winning--but you couldn’t pay too much attention with the way that his talented fingers plucked at the sensitive parts of your body.

It was perhaps the most tense game of poker that night, now that you were part of the reward for winning. Alejandro cursed and threw down his hand as he folded during the second round. Price folded more calmly after him, satisfied enough with teasing you.

Rudy ended up winning the final round, leaning back with a smug grin while everyone else cursed and threw their cards at the table. His eyes were dark and lidded as he turned his gaze to you, patting his lap.

“C’mere, cariño,” he purred.

You stood on shaky legs, supporting yourself with Price’s arm he offered out. You could feel six pairs of eyes on you as you made your way over to Rudy. He held out his arms to you as you slid into his lap, one leg on either side of his legs. He hummed, his hands wandering over your naked skin to cup your breasts and press his face between them. He rubbed his thumbs over your nipples, staring up at you with his dark eyes when you gasped and wriggled in his grasp.

“So sensitive, cariño,” he murmured, drawing a nipple into his mouth, lathing his tongue over the sensitive nub.

You moaned, rubbing your cunt over the steadily growing bulge in his pants. “Mm, Rudy…”

He popped off of your nipple, snaking a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. “Gonna be a good girl for me? Mi chula buena?”

You nodded, biting your lip as sparks of pleasure rocketed up through your body. “Mm, yes, Rudy, please.” He inserted a finger into your slowly soaking cunt and you moaned, throwing your head back, as he soon reached that spongy spot inside of you that you could never reach with your own fingers. “Oh, Rudy, please! Please, please fuck me.”

He chuckled, a low, growly sound, removing his hand from inside you to unzip his pants, covering his leaking cock with your slick. “Shh, cariño, you’ll get what you want, prometo.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, then slowly pushed into your cunt.

You let out a high pitched moan as Rudy’s cock slowly filled you. He groaned into your neck, hips hitching into your tight heat as he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck, cariño, you’re so fucking tight, fucking squeezing me.” He cut off with another groan when you clenched around him at his words.

Someone whined behind you, but you could hardly pay any attention to anything else but Rudy’s thick cock slowly rearranging your insides. You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscles there. Your thighs quivered as you lifted your hips and then sank back down with a whine. Rudy gripped your hips in a bruising hold, helping you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, fu-uck, Rudy!”

He groaned, drawing your nipple into his mouth once again, drawing out high-pitched moans from you as he did. “Fuck, so good, cariño, so, so good for me. Fuck, feel so good, taking me like this.”

You whined and bounced faster on his cock, tossing your head back as the thrill and pleasure coursed through your body. Rudy’s talented mouth switched back and forth between your nipples while one hand remained on your hip to guide you, the other buried in the space between your bodies, rubbing your clit in smooth, consistent circles.

“Ohh, Rudy--please!”

“Shh, just keep going, cariño,” Rudy growled against your tits, gaze dark and intense as he stared up at you. “You’re being so good for me, mi chula buena--fuck--I’m so close.”

Your fingers gripped the hair at the base of his scalp, holding his head flush against your breasts so his mouth could continue its ministrations. You bounced even faster on his cock, angling your hips so the head brushed over that sensitive spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Oh, fuck, Rudy, I’m gonna cum!”

He groaned against your skin, hands holding your hips with a bruising grip as he thrust up into you. “Fu-uck, I’m close, too, cariño. C’mon, cum for me, so, so good.”

You gasped and moaned sweetly as his words tipped you over the edge, melting into his embrace as you rode out your high. Rudy groaned, hips hitching into your tight warmth as his orgasm followed soon after yours.

He ran a hand up your spine to cup the back of your head, holding it for support as he scooted his chair away from the table. Then, he stood, making you gasp as his cock shifted inside of you, before he laid you on the table. All the men around you groaned as you were laid out on display for them, while Gaz and Ghost took the opportunity to hold your legs open as Rudy pulled out, moaning at the sight of his cum dripping out of your soaking cunt.

You panted as six pairs of hands roamed over your body, sparks of lust slowly rekindling deep in your core despite the fact that you had just cum. You leaned up on your elbows, giving the six men a shaky grin.

“So who’s ready for round two?”

Big Dick Brother Energy

When you join Task Force 141, you fully expect to have to fend off aggressive, testosterone-fueled men who think anything with a cunt should service them just for existing. Instead, you get a team who welcomes you heartily and truly embrace the idea of brothers in arms. They see you as an extension of themselves, one who deserves their protection and care.

This is amazing on the battlefield. Saving each other is only second to completing a mission objective, and sometimes, it comes first. The problem is when you try to socialize with others outside the team and off the battlefield. The One-Four-One are complete and total cockblocks. So overprotective that no man gets a chance to do more than make eyes at you or maybe say "hi" before a giant wall is sliding between you and that man, physically pushing them away if necessary.

When you first joined the team, they excitedly added you to their phone tracking plan. It allowed the team to track each other at any time while at home, just in case. It was very useful when your car broke down and they were able to come to your rescue within minutes instead of waiting hours for a tow. Now, though, it makes it impossible for you to sneak off or to try a different bar or a club.

A club. That was a disaster. You tried to go to a club to dance, figuring that the team would either brood over drinks at a table in a corner or find girls to dance with. No. They followed you like lost puppies, and the second a guy tried to dance with you, formed a ring around you like bodyguards. Opening your eyes and seeing a wall of brothers glaring at everyone around was embarrassing, to say the least.

After that, you sat them down as a group and told them they needed to stop the big brother act, because you desperately needed to burn off some energy. They nodded as though they understood. Then, they scheduled you for extra PT sessions. When you complained about that, they signed you up for yoga classes and water aerobics. You were excited for those, hoping that you'll find a guy looking to hook up. Only, when you walked into yoga, Ghost was there, laying out his mat next to yours, ignoring your glare with a smirk on his face. And water aerobics had Gaz climbing in the pool with you, telling you about his weekend plans and the newest gadget he picked up.

Hell, you even tried to schedule your own class when the rest of the team was busy in the hopes of meeting a man. Leaving your phone at home, you slipped away to a dance studio across town in a taxi. You saw Alejandro walk in at the last minute and shoved your way past him, stomping outside in frustration. He followed and offered a ride back to base with a lopsided grin, calling you mi Hermana, in case you forgot the team's consideration of you as a sister.

You tried to explain again, and they threw their hands up in frustration. They tried to help you burn off energy in a constructive way. No man would be good enough for you, anyway. They were just heading off the heartbreak. When you storm off in frustration, they shrug it off. No way they would let some idiot hurt you, even if you pouted over it.

Eventually, you decide that you'll have to secretly date someone on base. Maybe a friend's with benefits situation. Just as you make that decision, you look up, your eyes locking with a man's across the room. The look he directs your way makes a delicious shiver go down your spine. That'll do, you think with a smile back at him.