Nikto who´s the scariest member of KorTac by far, he might as well be a feral animal, being stripped off his humanity in the years of torture he´s endured, his body a wreck, barely recognisable. at this point the chronic pain is nothing but a dull ache, nothing compared to the constant feeling of his mind not being his own
so can you blame him for being on edge all the time? not trusting anyone, just waiting for the next order, the next mission. he´s a weapon. weapons don´t feel. weapons get used until they break only to be discarded again.
he´s not a timebomb, just a cornered animal waiting to snap and tear out the guts of whoever comes too close to him
nobody ever meets his eye, too scared of seeing what´s inside, not wanting to find out what happens when they hold eye contact
he´s a starer though, he doesn´t even mean anything by it, it just helps him focus, especially in crowded rooms. he always needs an anchor. and since you´re his handler that role mostly goes to you
he was pretty lost when he got freed from his torture, he understood deep down that he was alive, that he had a life left, but he also knew that he had nothing to live for, nothing that was left of him, not even his looks. he can´t look into a mirror without breaking it so he doesn´t. only ever showers in the shower rooms without windows and mirrors, wears his full gear on off days too. he just can´t look at himself. because even though he thought he had discarded every notion of feeling, it still hurt
you always stare back at him, it should make him tense up, flee, fight, anything...but instead he lets it happen. doesn´t allow it, because that would imply he knew what he was doing and he doesn´t. not yet. doesn´t know what it means.
you were there when they got him out, saw firsthand the full damage to his body and mind. you were trained for cases like these but you never expected to actually get attached, not you, you were in the field long enough not to do that ever again
but Nikto made you want to, want to tame him, to calm his mind, to blur the lines between professionalism and real affection just enough for it to be acceptable until it wasn´t anymore
so every time you stare back into his eyes you also sport a smile, it´s not a weak or shy one, not a mocking and controlling one either, all he knows is that is holds power, the power to handle him
and while all of his humanity, his morals are completely gone, his instinct isn´t. and it craves you.
maybe it´s because you´re the only constant in his life right now, maybe it´s because you treat him like a man instead of a broken soldier despite being his handler, or maybe precisely because of that
and maybe he craves that power dynamic, not able to live without it now but if he can make something positive of the trauma he experienced he will, if only it will make him enjoy life once more. he´s still a very long way from it, but he tries. he really does. because you told him once that his life isn´t over. that he´s so much more than they tried to make him be. he´s not nothing. he´s a man.
a man has desires, wants, dreams, aspirations, he has nothing. just instinct. and his instinct tells him to keep you close, to keep staring at you, have you meet his eyes and smile at him over the crowded room. it was a ritual at this point.
you only ever saw each other on missions, but now he´s by your side on off days too, never directly addressing it. he´s just become a presence in your life somehow. he´s loyal, more loyal than he ever was before. and he follows orders so well. especially yours. he follows you in a way that just deserves praise and a reward. he clutches to the concept of it like a lifeline
and when you finally call him into your office he regains a part of his humanity, his mind filled with thoughts of you in the way only a man could manage. maybe he really is a fucking animal. one you somehow managed to tame. he´s putty in your hands
his breathing is heavy when he enters your office, unable to tear off his eyes off your form, the way your eyes match the hunger in his and it takes everything for him not to combust on the spot. he hasn´t felt desire in years, almost fucking forgot he had a cock down there. until it stirs to life again. not that it´s impressive, it´s lacking like the rest of his body. but at least it´s not been mutilated further than it already was. it´s been one of his greatest insecurities before the torture.
he´s small, uncut and it curves in a weird way. he´s always found his cock ugly. just like the rest of him. even before he got scarred for life. he never liked how easily he put on weight, how broad his face was, how big his nose was...he never liked his reflection in the mirror but now he couldn´t even look at it anymore. and even with you he doesn´t take the mask off. not yet. it´s enough to know you´re willing to reward him for a job well done, that´s more than he deserved.
he sits down on the small couch in your office like instructed, his heart beating louder than any RPG ever could. he doesn´t speak, just watches you. always you. his breath hitches ever so slightly as you finally reach out, your hands resting on his mask. and he doesn´t flinch. because he knows you won´t take it off. instead you smile down on him, saying he did a good job on the mission
asking what reward he wants and the words get stuck in his throat. so your hands wander lower, hyper aware of what is okay and what isn´t. you ask if you can just jerk him off nicely and he nods, barely but he nods, his eyes somehow more intense than they were before.
you take your time with it, running your fingers over his muscular thighs through the fabric of his pants before opening them. you gently palm him through his underwear before freeing his cock, never fully undressing him. you get comfortable kneeling in front of him, warming your hands just as you gently spit on it. Nikto´s eyes roll back and he swears he´s in heaven. he doesn´t care about his inadequate size anymore, he just focuses on the feeling like you instructed. you keep looking up at him as you run your fingers along his shaft, gently probing at his tip until he stands at full attention
your strokes are slow and gentle, they feel like a warm hug he´s never had before and he can´t get enough. you´re so patient with him since it takes a long time for him to actually get hard and even longer for him to cum. you talk him through it so beautifully, helping him let go and go mindless even just for a few minutes. when he´s close he starts gripping the couch, unable to hold back the quiet grunts escaping his broken lips. when he cums he outright whines, meeting your eyes and melting when he sees the proud look you give him as you gently stroke him through it, patting his thigh after you´re done cleaning him up
nobody handles him like you
