Sneak peek of Chapter 2 of my in-progress Apex Legends Mirhoundstic fanfic, Taken By Storm!
The fight moves to The Mill!
Reminder that TBS won’t be published until I finish the story, but I’m actively working on it. Until then, I’ll be posting chapter sneak peeks here on this blog!
First part of a mini series I wanted to do for @hurtled-into-chaos-you-fight ! Introducing: Caustic horny for both the Bloodhounds!
Summary: Curious. Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? The Bloodhounds. Or: In which Caustic catches one of the Bloodhounds jerking off in the dropship and can't help but sneak a peek. Not that they mind the attention either...
!!!Minors DNI, this is adult content and it makes me v uncomfortable for you to interact. Plz respect my boundaries!!!
Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound (Rune) has a dick, Sprite’s Bloodhound headcanons and my own mentioned, voyeurism, just Caustic and his good ole right hand, Caustic is also turned on by violence and this is mentioned
Words: 3k
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Curious.
Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent?
The Bloodhounds.
Fascinating couple they were. They participated in this blood-sport as one, despite if they had to shed blood of their significant other in the process. Hound was the smaller of five foot or shorter and arguably deadlier of the two. Quieter and willing to snarl in your face in a low tone no matter how big you were in comparison.
Alexander had been on the other end of that hatchet numerous times, his chin tilted upwards and their red goggled gaze seeming to burn into his soul as they’d hum out. “You think yourself worthy of my ammunition, Doctor? Do not think so highly of yourself.”
Before the blade would cut in and the medical bay is where he’d awaken in cold sweat and in need of a shower with a slight adjustment to the front of his pants and a grunt in his voice.
~Rest under the cut~
Then there was the other of the Bloodhounds, Rune. Towering over even Alexander, they stood at 7’4” and gave him a chance to feel small in someone else’s presence for once. Rune was a curiosity in themself as well, always sticking near the smaller of the couple and becoming more playful around them and the other legends they liked. Alexander had seen them in battle and also had been an...active participant in their bloodshed.
They were blood thirsty, always seeking out battle and preferring close combat where they could sink their serrated teeth into you instead of a gun.
Rune was more vulgar than their quietly taunting spouse, always taking to stalking Alexander back until he hit a wall with a hand removing their respirator just so Alexander could see their full lips tug into a wide grin full of serrated teeth. “Oh, Doctor,” They’d begin with their low voice curling in his ears.
“How I can taste your heart pounding. From fear or-” They’d reach him by then, twisting fingers into his gear and yanking his clothing so he’d have to lean up to them and feel their snarling breath over his own mask. “-something more pathetic?”
He’d awake in the med bay the same way, in need of a shower, adjusting the front of his pants, and in need to slow his heart beat from the very same guessed thing of ‘something more pathetic ’.
The Bloodhounds were a curiosity, separated only in the arena visually by their heights and the differences in patches and charms on them. Hound having a wolf patch, Rune having a raven. Hound having a moon charm on their weaponry, Rune having a sun- a call back to their preferred pet names to one another.
Otherwise, their uniforms were identical, and even that clever Giant could mimic Hound’s voice to perfection to even fool teammates, enemy squads, or the audio over the feed that people watched from home and in bars.
These findings were all, of course, written within the confines of Alexander’s notes in a journal. Keeping tallies on both allies and people who could become enemies was merely part of his own protocol. It made working with people easier, and finding yourself in the grips of someone you once called ‘ally’- it made exploiting their weaknesses much easier.
Of course, this is what he tells himself at night when his mind wanders and he presses his soft thighs together and clears his throat. Glasses perched on the bridge of his freckled nose and his eyes wandering over their pages, feeling a stirring in his stomach. Seems he was not one of the lucky people who were unaffected by the duo.
Even the brief sketches and outlines filling the pages of his ‘The Bloodhounds’ sections would prove where his interests lied within them. Their hatchets drawn out, their preferred charms and patches. Even notes regarding their most spoken words in the Old Norse and Icelandic tongues that they spoke, carefully translated so he could observe their conversations more closely.
The more recent page had yet to be fully filled out, however. On to where that pesky smaller bloodhound had gone off to.
It just seemed one day Hound had just left, leaving Rune behind to carry the mantel of what Alexander was certain was an act of worship of participation and bloodshed. This had been about a month ago, and no matter how much snooping he did, there seemed to be no answer. Perhaps an injury? Duty to take care of back home?
Either way, the Syndicate didn’t care. As long as a singular Bloodhound remained to cause familiar bloodshed, then there was no need to fear. And Rune certainly performed just as terrifyingly as they had done before. Even without Hound to face nor be at their side.
But there was a new thing added to their daily mannerism now that Hound was no longer in the compound.
Phone calls.
It seemed simple, really, Alexander supposed it made sense to want to hear your long-time partner’s voice every day when you had not been separated in a long time. He couldn’t hear the conversation occurring, the drop ship’s walls being thick enough to provide that much privacy. Even if they were made of glass, most of the legends had taken to using blankets or netting to cover the glass to provide more privacy when they were on their few days of journey to the battle grounds.
The Bloodhounds had taken to putting up netting on either side, making it hard to see through, but not impossible. Alexander’s desk was pressed to their wall, and most times he would consider himself to be a good roommate by not snooping into their business.
Or at least, pretending he wasn’t.
Like now. Where he was very much not snooping and most definitely just writing in his journal. Not at all peeking over occasionally over his glasses as he pretended to reach to the side to grab a different pen or pencil.
That would just be asinine.
It’s not that he meant to direct his attention off his journal, it’s just that he kept seeing movement through the netting and it was distracting. Where dark amber hair keeps shifting in one specific spot and the flash of flesh and tattoos keeps catching his eye. Though he can’t make out what they’re saying exactly, the walls only muffing them so much. He is still able to hear the deep sound of their natural voice and the growl to each purr seeming to rattle the very walls around them.
Alexander slumps a bit in his seat, lifting his eyes and noting he can see perfectly through the hole of the net to see half of Rune’s body.
Rune’s...
Very.
Very.
Almost naked body.
With only a mesh shirt lifted up to expose what Alexander could see of their abdomen, his eyes wander down to where he can see everything from abdomen to their knees. Where they’re exposed. A strong hand wrapped around their tattooed and, frankly, large cock. Stroking it in a slow, methodical way. Their hips rolling back unsteadily on the hammock in a way he can only imagine was them fucking themself onto something.
Suddenly Alexander realizes why the hums of their voice through the wall make more sense as to why they were so well timed. Moans and words- possibly filthy words being spoken to their partner through the phone. A phone that Alexander can see if he subtly tilts his body downwards and looking up towards their body through the mesh of the net.
The phone is tucked against their shoulder and ear, and he can only imagine their blissed expression. Alexander can only just see how their sharp teeth bite into their full lower lip briefly, a light part of them in a soundless gasp and smirk of their lips before forming words he cannot hear but can imagine.
Privacy, Alexander chides himself as he sits up straight.
He tries to focus back on his journal instead, recapping the events that happened within Olympus’ grounds. He’d had the pleasure of being in a duo match with Bloodhound- or rather, Rune, who sat in the room just in front of him. He learned an interesting weakness of heights that day. However, he also had learned that in order to get the Giant down from a high location they had accidentally landed during drop- proved to be quite difficult.
It took coaxing and a promise that he stuck to for once, gripping their hand and helping them down. Alexander’s cheeks flush when he recaps the way their hand had clapped his shoulder with a low laugh in their chest of, “Thank you, Doctor. I shall spare your humiliation the next time we cross weapons. Unless, of course, you find it to be more rewarding that I do humiliate you?”
He grunts to himself, rolling his neck to try and make the thoughts vanish of just how those damned Bloodhounds had humiliated him in the ring time and time again. He always got vengeance, of course, but that didn’t stop the swelling in his pants at the images of the both of them flashing behind his eyelids.
Hound was crueler, especially if they had a score to settle. But Rune’s sheer size always made Alexander feel small, even when he was just backed into a corner by them. Either way, they both had him feeling more than a little something stirring within him.
Alexander grunts again, a hand squeezing between his legs to try and soothe the ache that had started. Normally he had a tough time getting hard, but it appears today would not be one of those days. A mild hindrance, but nothing that would provide too elephantine of an issue.
Just perhaps...mild discomfort, he thinks as he adjusts in his chair with a clear of his throat and a tug around the collar of his button up.
He rests his cheek on his fist, elbow on the desk and feeling depraved as his other gives another squeeze to his cock through his trousers. He was like any other human, he had needs, just needs he never felt the desire to act upon often. Plenty of people here ready to catch you off guard.
Alexander doesn’t mean for his thoughts to trail off, daydreaming felt so platitudinous. Overdone, undesired, and unneeded. Especially for a man of science, such as himself, who relied on realistic limitations.
But...perhaps he could indulge.
Just this once.
His mind was both his biggest help and biggest weapon. He’d seen the Bloodhounds without their helmets before on the times they’d rarely join a party and he would follow. Hound preferred sporting a lower mask, a respirator of demonic likeness he had assumed in the case of colder climates, but for the most part he could see them. And what a sight they were.
Worthy to the godly and royal pet names that their spouse referred to them as.
Rune, on the other hand, liked the attention, Alexander assumed. Judging by their more beguiling and eye-catching attire. Mesh shirts, long dark gowns with sparkling sleeves, or too tight of pants with a left open button up. They certainly liked when people would look over too often, flushed to their chests and drinking a little too heavily in the hopes of liquid courage.
Of course, that liquid courage would quickly be shot down if Hound didn’t like your approach, sometimes a snarl ricocheting off the walls of Witt’s bar and sending a pleasant shiver down Alexander’s spine. And fear through others.
Rune’s taunting voice lingers in his mind as his mind begins to swirl up arousing ideas.
He pictures them standing, taunting him and daring to lean down into his face to get close and taunt him, their breath spilling over his lips. He imagines smashing his lips to theirs, drinking in their taunting laugh as he’d spin them around in the bar’s bathroom. The hurry to yank down their pants and to see that perky, muscular ass he’s sure is covered in tattoos much like the rest of their body.
Would they growl or moan if he dragged his tongue along their cock? Would they curl their fingers in his hair or would they grip the sink behind them and allow him to taste them? So many questions for a simple fantasy, one that his mind helpfully supplies as he fishes his cock out of his trousers to start stroking in real time.
The fantasy continues, sinking his fingers into their ass and hearing them practically purr for him. Able to feel them clench around his lubricated fingers and imagining just how tight they’d be. The older dog laughing breathily down at him, taunting him and using that voice to their advantage. Asking when he became such a whore. And if they knew he had such a mouth on him, they would have used him long ago rather than making quick work of him in the ring. Other ways of humiliating the doctor.
Alexander’s breath catches, the hand on his cheek sliding to cover his mouth instead as his brows furrow and his hand jerks himself off with a harsher squeeze. His hand sliding down to squeeze at his heavy balls and gliding his fingers back up to grip himself roughly.
He imagines them gasping as he’d whip them around and fuck them from behind. Their breathy, low laughter rumbling in his chest as he’d fuck them from behind. A hand grabbing their jaw and tipping their head to the side as they’d smirk at him and croon between growls, “Enjoy your last show, Doctor? ” Only to be broken up by the sound of their low groan when he’d thrust into them to the hilt and press on their hips to drag them back with a snarl.
He’d want to bruise them, mark them as best as he could. Whether to prove a point or maybe to rile up their spouse that he knew would tear him apart if given the opportunity.
Their earthy scent would plague his nose as he’d bury himself to the hilt inside of them, biting into their shoulder when he came into them and hearing them pant and huff in his ear in turn. Just like the dog their title claimed they were. Being bred by him.
He imagines how they’d cling to his arms, digging their nails into his pale flesh and making him grunt from the pain as he tells them to take it as they howl. Releasing their own cum all over the sink.
Alexander’s eyes are blurry as he flutters them back open, his heart pounding and his hand covered in cum. His cock gives dull throbs in time with his heart beat, met with a shaky exhale as he reaches on his desk to grab a tissue to clean up the mess. Feeling a bit filthier than he had before, but feeling less pent up.
When his heart finally settles down, Alexander clears his throat, using a wet wipe to clean off his hands and remove any further evidence. He grabs his pen to go back to his journaling, even with his flushed face as he tries to not recap on what just happened. Flashes behind his eyes when he closes them briefly to try and take a breath and steady himself.
A knock on the glass in front of him makes him jump, looking upwards to see the net pulled back and Rune standing there with only pants hanging low around their hips and a smirk on their lips. Their head is tilted, their eyes calculating as if Alexander were looking at an inconsequential little experiment running a maze and unable to get out.
Locked in the eyes of a predator.
Their smirk transforms into a cockier look when they seem to take in Alexander’s flushed and disheveled look, only making him furrow his brow and try to play it off as if nothing was amiss. He gives them a questioning look, but watches as their lips spread into a predatory grin of sharp shark-like teeth and their red gaze flickering down towards his lap.
Alexander follows the gaze to where his cock is still out of his trousers. Burning red to his ears as he rushes to tuck himself away and hearing the muffled laugh of Rune from behind the glass from them being so close to it. Alexander refuses to look up from their journal, his head bowed and feeling humiliated.
He could weep at the fact his dick gives another harsh jerk at the debauched feeling.
When he finally braves himself enough to look up, Rune gives him a wink before they let the netting fall back down. Walking back to their resting area of the hammock and leaving Alexander to sit there in his aroused shame, and only feeling more aroused by the second at being caught.
When he finally decides to rest for the night, Alexander can’t help but wonder what is to become of him from the smaller of the Bloodhounds. If they even snarled at a drunken bystander trying to flirt with their spouse, what would they do when the knowledge that Rune was being watched would surely reach them?
There was no way they didn’t tell each other everything.
Alexander groans aloud when his cock twitches again at the thought of a knife to his throat and harsh words snarled to him from the smaller of the couple. How they’d probably step on his cock in the middle of the ring, call him filthy and disgusting for indulging in something so sinful as voyeurism-
He runs a hand over his face, reaching over and turning off his lamp and feeling just as filthy as earlier as he reaches under the sheets with new fantasies arising in his mind.
This time entailing both the Bloodhounds. Plenty of snarling, plenty of hungry hands squeezing him and depriving him of air.
