Rheese’ best worst Day
Let’s all thank @dieguzguz for this amazing idea, I’m sure Rheese absolutely hates it! :’)
If you want, you can read part of a one shot for this below the cut. It’s simultaneously also one of the prompts you sent me, Sam xD. This is only the harmless beginning part of a fic that ended up being smut, but I didn’t wanna post that part under a sfw render so if you wanna read the full version let me know, maybe I’ll post it seperately.
Down in the basement of Stone Ridge Chalet I’d completely lost track of time and didn’t realize the clock had already turned 7pm. Must have been why I started to feel so damn hungry. The supply lists in front of me still demanded my attention and I cursed Joseph for making such a big deal out of christmas. The project didn’t even celebrate ordinary christmas, there were no gifts, no family get-togethers, there was just a celebration at Joseph’s compound - likely another one of his ego trips. Yet, here we were only at the beginning of October, but they’d already ordered new decorations for every bigger facility owned by the project and Tucker’d given me the glorious task to make sure they’d all be supplied equally among our region. I had been on it ever since my last training group of the day was over, with no end in sight anytime soon.
I heard someone on the stairs, then opening the door and the slight limp he’d developed through equally taxing work days gave Jakob away without me having to turn around. “Close the door, old man. It took ages to get this little prison heated”, I mumbled, still focused on the papers in front of me. He ignored my plea, of course, and instead I felt his body push against mine from behind just a moment later. “Hello to you too, Shorty.” His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled my body against his. I smiled but still continued to write down a few more numbers on the current list instead of giving him my full attention. Needless to say that he didn’t like that. His hand forcefully tilting my face towards his, he kissed me. Jakob was always good at flustering me that way as is, but today he seemed especially hungry. His kiss was a bit sloppy, wet and incredibly deep, so much that I could barely keep myself together.
“I’m here to pick ya up”, he stated only minorly out of breath while I was panting and staring at his face trying to make my way back into reality. “That’s sweet.” I leaned against him, my gaze shifting back towards the table of unfinished work. “But I can’t leave yet. They really need this shit done.” “Ya can ‘n you will. We pick up a bucket at the Grill Streak and have ourselves a nice-”, his hand bluntly moved from my stomach to one of my breasts. “- cozy evening.” While not at all opposed to the variety of improper feelings his actions caused in me, I tried to remove his hand from my chest. “Please, we’re in public. I don’t wa-” He squeezed instead of letting me go. “I don’t care.” “I do! Jake, I really need to finish this shit first, Tucker’s gonna be-” “Tucker doesn’t matter.” I felt his beard brush against my cheek as he rested his head on my shoulder. It took all my willpower to not run my fingers through it.
“Well, no he doesn’t. But he’s gonna need these in the morning and I’m gonna have problems if they aren’t finished by then.” “Usually you ain’t so keen on followin' orders.” I finally gave in and moved my hand to his face. “You’d get bored if I followed yours.” “Could do me the favor just this once.” “No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” That definitely wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear because he removed my hand off his cheek. “Yeah”, he whispered and with one hand he reached behind his back. “I had a feelin’ ya wouldn’t behave.” “Behave?!” I turned my head towards his and he gave me the familiar, smug smirk as he raised his eyebrows and nodded. His hand grabbed both of mine, held them together but I refused to move my eyes off his face as he tied something that could only be rope tightly around my wrists. The pleased expression on his face combined with the predicament I found myself in now, sent a familiar warmth through my body and it took a lot of my remaining strength to not show him that too easily.
“You think this is gonna make me come with you?” Finally looking at the knot he bound, I realized there was no way I’d get that off myself, which oddly made it better. Damn, what did I turn into. “I can still work like this.” But just as I reached for my pen to fake ignoring him again, he grabbed my shoulder, forcefully turned me around to face him and pushed me against the table. After a few failed attempts on my own, he helped me sit on it and I couldn’t help but smile at him. The fact that he came here just for me made me so happy that if he had asked me normally one more time, I would have gone with him. But bringing rope on purpose told me that he’d expected my disobedience and I knew he liked that little bit of challenge for the extra spice just as much as I did.
For a couple of weeks now we haven’t had much time for each other. He was even busier than me these days, coming home late and going again early in the morning didn’t exactly leave much room nor motivation for the fun things in life. I knew his health took a toll from all the stress, too. The limp wasn’t the only indicator for that, and if I was honest, those days were taxing for me all the same, so the definition of a hot evening for both of us had been falling to bed together and playing a game of who’d fall asleep the fastest. I missed having more energy, and even though he did his best to prove me wrong today, I knew he was still exhausted. I wouldn’t overdo it if he didn’t. There was an uncommon gentleness to his touches, as weird as that might be considering my circumstances.
“Shorty, I’ll make ya if ya go on like this.” He placed another rushed kiss on my lips. “You’re not my boss”, I whispered against his and he spent a good amount of time looking at mine after. His eyes gave away that he was up to something and I couldn’t decide if that excited or scared me. “If I’m not your boss, who is?” “No one.” Now his eyes wandered lower and the smile on his face turned a lot more sinister. “Then why ya wearin’ that?”, he asked, pointing at the stupid dog collar around my neck. “Because I’m not losing the bet!” “I already forgot about it.” “Unfortunately, memory loss is common at old age, I heard”, I teased and in response he tucked on said collar. “Damn brat.” “What are you going to do about it?” The provocative tone in my voice seemed to excite him, he moved his face unbearably close to mine again but instead of kissing me he ran his thumb over my parted lips. “I’ve got an idea”, he said still having that cursed smile, let go of me entirely and I curiously looked after him with my tied hands on my lap, as he walked out of the room.
“And what exactly is that id-” The rest of the sentence got stuck in my throat because he reentered holding a roll of duct tape in his hand. “You can’t be serious!” I jumped off the table, trying to figure out an escape route while he was slowly walking towards me. “That’s what ya get.” With a scratching sound he extended part of the tape and bit it off. I used the small opportunity to rush past him, but he swiftly caught me in his hold and, admittedly painfully, tackled me onto the table. “You ass that hurt!” Ignoring me, he leaned his forearm onto my chest to hold me down. The cocky smile returned and he waved the piece of tape in front of my face. “Nonono, do you have any idea how much it hurts pulling that off?!” He kissed me again, longer than the last time, long enough for me to forget what he just did and to feel my body relax a little as I gave in. “Countin’ on it”, he whispered through gritted teeth before pulling away and quickly placing the tape onto my mouth. I mumbled a hundred swear words at him in disbelief, while clumsily getting up from the table but all he did in response was putting on a fake pitying expression. Then he shrugged and said: “Too bad, Shorty. Can’t understand ya.”
I was ready to kick him, punch him with both of my hands at once if I had to, but when I tried, he casually blocked off my attack, bent down, grabbed my legs and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. When I struggled and mumbled another collection of insults at him, he fixed his grip on one of my legs to keep me in place, his hand moving dangerously high between my legs. Once again, I realized that I was a fucking idiot because I didn’t exactly mind any of this. It’s been quite a while since our last more unusual time and the mere memory of that one filled me with excitement. He knew that, because he kept moving his index finger against the mid seam of my jeans.