Imagine using your connection to Sauron to keep him distracted from his scheming...
Imagine using your connection to Sauron to keep him distracted from his scheming, knowing he cares for you and wants to keep you safe despite everything that happened, you put yourself in danger repeatedly so he has to come to your rescue.
However, not even jumping off the broken bridge or walking straight into the army of orcs without any intention to fight proves to be as much of a challenge as fighting him in person and trying to convince yourself that you have to kill him.
the streets are saying the war devil is a bad kisser
" LIARS! they're all a bunch of filthy damn liars! this is why war will reign supreme. " yoru continues her rant, fists balling & growing rather expressive in her movements. albeit, frantic.
" are you one of these heathens? c'mere, i'll show you a bad kisser. i'll show 'em all! "
Warnings for this chapter: sex dream that verges somno, blood and injury
Word Count: ~7k
Summary: His lap is your favorite spot in the world, a sneaky little energy grab while dream-walking, and oh no! some blood :(
A/N: Chapter 3! I had so much planned for this, then wrote more and more so the original ch. 3 is now into two parts, meaning another chapter gets added to this. I hope ye enjoy
Price wasn’t caring for you. That much was certain.
Correction: Price wasn’t caring for your needs.
Three months.
Three months and still no sex. You expect he’s doing his best to fill his thick head with pure thought to ward off any boners.
He allowed small touches for technical purposes which gave a small boost of energy to you, but only barely. The previous feast on a mission in a drug ring fed you well enough, having been left with bodies barely alive before giving them the sickly sweet send-off to death while letting them taste the carnal sin you could procure.
John’s belief held you as being able to feed from the other men who desired you. Everywhere you went you could make a man or woman (a rare few on base at this time) hard and wet with desire. You trained with other soldiers, killed on missions, and while it helped and kept your energy up, it wasn’t enough. Sure, you took plenty enough of lives when the boys had so graciously left a straggler or two for you as they bled out, but the whittled-away energy of a man with bullets in him made the meal a bit dull.
Sometimes the question of Price being an angel himself would weigh in your mind, the hallucination of a golden halo crowning him in the darkness behind your eyelids as you watched him speak or bark orders while standing in the sunlight.
You remember that he certainly can’t be. He kills and kills again, the wolf himself still has a handler no matter how much he barks- never biting until directed. For the most part.
Price is cruel with the allotted sweetness he supplied. It's been driving you up a wall, a reluctantly familiar itch crawling in your chest. He’d pet your hair when deeming a job well done, sometimes even wrangling you by the horns when needing to re-direct your attention. Softer moments started to build up the more you learned and were able to help him complete his tasks, being sure to reserve time for only you and him during the day.
Yet he still wouldn’t fuck you. He wouldn’t use you, not even letting it get to that point.
And truthfully, it doesn’t matter. You could enchant anyone you wanted into getting your way, but already feeling and smelling the arousal these bone-dry soldiers felt for you. But you couldn’t do it.
Something inside your heart, filled with magic and sin, kept your sights on Price only. Long days had you passing by recruits with such ease of temptation just to take them into the locker room and let them relieve stress. Yet the moment you saw Price, you could feel your pupils turning into hearts. Theoretically.
Your military contract asserted your role into the new CO’s life, expecting easy sex and some sort of flippant attitude that would be a double positive. Meeting the man who does more than just take his commands to regurgitate them out onto his subordinates, Price showed resilience, respect, and a leading figure of someone who lived beyond each sacrifice he gave.
Sue you for having issues relating to the figures high in power and holding authority over you, but the stability he had to offer was the pillar the team used day in and day out. In terms of being the newest addition in an environment that offered more humanity than your past facility, your claws clung to him on the chance that he’d be attentive with guidance and any reprimands that are followed with assured praise.
It only made you burn for him.
The feeling of his gloved hands tight on your sides while practicing stealth drills, as if glued to your back to teach you his gait. Hearing his voice first thing in the morning before he’s spoken, his croaks send a shiver down your legs. When you waited in the locker room on purpose just to catch sight of his pink skin that highlighted the various sized and placed scars over his body. The smell of his cologne when he brought you to the bar with the boys after a job well done.
That first taste you had of him, that silly child's play of a kiss during the mission. Like a spiced honey, you wanted to drip all over your body and let it soak its way inside of you.
This man makes your demon quiver like she’s a holy saint sinning for the first time.
The days filled with paperwork, and not your Captain, made everything blur together enough to make your eyes tired, you’d whine over it being a task you never had to do before. It was frustrating for you and the team, making them feel like they were preschool teachers.
On the rare occasions that training would end early, Price would utilize this to spend time in the dimmed yellow light of his office as you sit next to him.
Papers strewn over your small work area while he kept his in neat piles. The sound of your keyboards clacking fills the silence before the shuffling of papers interrupts, small hums from either of you when checking details and recording operations management.
The room fills with a lingering haze as his cigar burns slowly, settled in the ashtray while typing, and back to his lips when reading over his work. Finishing a large chunk of interpreting and typing the reconnaissance intel, you lean back to watch as the cherry lights up when he inhales. His eyes are somewhat blurred by the glasses he wears, reflecting the screen while his body bathes in the warm light.
“You need sumthin’?” He grumbles from around the cigar, looking at you once he pops it out of his mouth.
“Why do you smoke cigars instead of cigarettes sometimes?” There’s no stutter in your question as he calls you out.
“Makes me feel like ‘m not in a rush. No need to worry of the end when there's plenty to it.” He brings it back up, taking a drag while watching you watch him. After a moment, he sits up and leans towards your place; Adjacent to him on the end of his desk while he sits on your right in his office chair.
“You ever try one?”
The bridge of your nose crinkles, a faint memory playing behind your eyes. “No. General would always be smoking one when I was brought in, didn’t like the smell.”
Price’s eyes widen for a second, quickly moving the cigar away and clearing his throat. “You could’ve said something, wouldn’t been smoking in ‘ere if I knew tha'.” He gently snubs the cherry but the grasp of your hand on his wrist halts him.
“It’s fine. It's different. I like this one.” You wave him off with no fuss.
His hand pauses, holding it still as his eyebrow quirks. “Whats it smell like?”
It takes a second to think over. He usually tends to stick to something earthy in flavoring, having only changed up the scent on special occasions. You can remember the first one being sweet when you came to this base, and on his hard days were ones that reeked of wood tones.
“Like you.” A shrug accompanies your answer, looking up to meet his gaze that now stills while his breath fans over your hand that keeps on his wrist. The sound of your voice is warmer than the buzz the first hit gives him after a long day, and you both can tell that his body likes it when you speak like that. Reserved for him.
“Would you want to try it?” He offers the half-smoked cigar to you, gently balancing it between his fingers.
Sliding your hand up his wrist to take the cigar between your fingers only to watch him as it meets your lips. The feeling is heavy and a bit confusing.
Sucking in, you quickly choke. Shaking your head as you hand the damn trap back to him, his light chuckle sounds out. “You’re not s’possed to swallow it, sweetheart.” His eyes take in steady heed of infatuation at your failed attempt, and the curl of his lips show a genuine smile.
“But I always swallow, Sir.”
You can never keep your mouth shut, can you? He pauses, mouth parting before clicking shut and narrowing his eyes. He looks away as the muscles of his mouth flex.
Trying not to laugh.
“I wonder if it's the lads getting to you, or just how you are.” Finally, he gives his attention back to you for a moment, watching as you clean up your work area. It's your turn to feel his stare at you. The sweeping of attention your body can feel prickling and preening at, loving his focus as it sweeps across your form. “And stop calling me Sir.”
“I see it as a form of respect, Captain.” You tidy your piles of paper, shifting back to your laptop and readjusting your seat. There's a slight flash of something just beneath the waistband of your fatigues.
Out of nowhere, he tosses a pen to the other side of the desk on your left.
“You mind picking that up for me, doll?” If he’d thrown a rabid dog and asked in that voice, you’d surely say yes.
The questioning glare he receives doesn’t escape him, but you comply nonetheless. Now bent over, the hem of your shirt rides up to reveal the flesh of your side. A tattoo reveals itself.
As soon as your hands grasp the pen from the floor, you startle at the touch of his hand on your stomach. “What-”
“This a tattoo?” His fingertips trace over the slightly exposed skin, taking a dive in and commanding the shirt to move from his touch as he brings his fingers under it.
Still slightly caught off guard, yet the touch is so gratifying that you almost purr in response. “‘S a succubus sigil. Mine specifically.” Leaning back and drawing your shirt up like a puppy asking for belly rubs, showing the expanse of it as it reaches from hip to hip. The design is tribal to your being; a heart that seemingly has wings of sharp lines that curve on the bottom of your stomach- Your womb.
“Did this come with your... form?” He asks after meeting your gaze, still not moving his hand away but tracing it with firm pressure as if to see it peel off or be raised.
“Mmm.” You nod, trying to contain the moan behind a tight-lipped hum. “Would come up on my mate too.”
The movement on your stomach stops just as you are a second away from moving your hips closer to plead for more. “Mate?” He stills, hand stopping and regrettably pulling back as he sits to look at you. “Whadya’ mean mate?”
Oh, that's right. You never told him. But there was a section in the contract! Your subconscious screams at you, and now irked at the daft man for not reading through a man-made document that was formative on a demon.
He stifles a cough when he looks back to you; The shirt still being raised to expose the soft and delicate-looking skin of your stomach meets him, legs spread, and head tilted down with a glare through your lashes. You’re pouting.
“Price…” You start, voice low with a bass in it while still having feminine notes. It sounds like the call of the wind when he’s posted in the mountains for a stakeout and brings a shiver to the inside of his ears.
“Why’re you looking at me like that.” His face is seemingly neutral, but his eyes twitch a fraction wider at your stare.
“You didn’t read my contract.” The ethereal-sounding voice teases his ears again. He’s ashamed that he can feel his dick twitch in interest at this sudden flip of your attitude, now having to resist the urge to cross his legs to hide the blood filling it. You drop your shirt down, and a coy smile floats up to your lips. “Did you, sir?”
“I still have a few pages left.” He chuffs while looking away to distract himself and his mouth with the cigar. “You gonna explain?” He tries to shift the power of this conversation back to him as he asks in nonchalance, spreading his legs to seem comfortable.
“Being a succubi’s mate brings something shallow but deeper than what normal humans could give. Our mate is a safe heaven; Someone who loves us for what we do. For understanding, we’re more than what we’re created to be.” Like a tether, you shift forward to step between the desk and himself. “Our mate understands that we have needs that have to be satiated, while we understand that humans rely on a relationship beyond physical cravings.”
Seating yourself on the edge of his desk, standing between his legs, the blue of his eyes sharply contrasts your red ones. “We sacrifice our innate, greedy, sinning hunger to fall in love.”
The pregnant pause is enough to let the moment sink into the walls of his office, his inner monologue going off the rails right now.
Tension sits in his eyebrow line, jaw, and in the air between you. “That so?”
“Very, much so.” Cheekily smiling back at him as you’ve firmly planted the idea in his head, the hem of your shirt rises to let the tattoo peek back out.
“Now, can we get back to you petting me?”
“Petting?” He chortles as if to ease whatever tense emotion settled over his mind, a kind that had alarm bells ringing in his head. “You’re not a dog. I was jus’ looking at your mark.” He breaks eye contact to look at his monitors, waking them up with a wave of the mouse. “You’re more like a cat, anyways.” He adds with a mumble.
“Oh, I’ve got a pretty kitty for you to pet.” The giggle that leaves your lips brings a sweet ringing in his ear. His dick twitches again, and this time with more blood flowing down at the image of your whats between your legs.
His hand comes up to take his glasses off as he discards the cigar in the ashtray, and then a stifled groan leaves his lips. “Cut the shit, Saint.” His elbows placed on the table make his back arch, and you can see his muscles traverse in waves over his shoulder blades. “You need to finish your report.”
“Just for a little bit?” While he’s distracted, you move closer to stand between his legs while trailing fingers over the sigil. “I’ll scratch your back.”
Price’s head lolls to the side, finding you much closer than expected. The motion of your tail swaying playfully behind you gains an advantage; You’re playful in all of this, all the while a beautiful woman creature that has a face worthy of melting hearts and a body that could melt dicks and cunts alike, there is a sort of black cat-like quality to you. Hunting for prey either in the shadows or wanting to toy with it.
An even steeper spike of arousal catches your nose, wanting nothing more for him to be as easy as Soap is on a bad day. You’ve never taken up the opportunity, but you still think about it.
Pursing his lips, a sigh escapes him while rubbing his hands over his face. “If this gets you to shut up and finish your work, fine.” He leans back in his chair, re-situating himself before you move to straddle his lap. “Only for a little bit.”
To your surprise, a sound of content leaves him as you settle, and feel his large arms come to wrap around your waist. “You’re a furnace- are you sick?” The inside of his wrist comes up to check your forehead for a fever, finding it warm.
“I just run that way. Something with my magic.” Humming, and nuzzling into his neck, the huff of you breathing him in makes his skin prickle. His hand returns to your waist.
A moment of silence passes, breathing with each other with only the steady hum of his computer filtering into the background noise. “You gonna scratch my back or not, sweetheart?” You can feel the rumble of his words end with a chuckle against your chest and in the muscles of your throat.
At the queue, your hands slide down beneath his shirt to start sliding the tips of your nails across his skin. A small sound of surprise leaves him as you pull up his shirt but quickly cuts off by a groan as he slumps against you.
“Fuck- Haven’t felt that in a long time.” The pull of a smile on his lips against your neck as he leans into the crook of it. His body shakes in a full tremor and his hands squeeze tighter; A hiss is pulled out of him as you reach the top of his shoulders and bring your nails down in long, cruelly slow, strokes. “Feels so wonderful, angel.”
While the petname is ironic, it still means you're getting to him. Being so close to him, the smell of his steadying arousal almost gets you high. Repeating the motion, you relaxed a bit more onto his lap to settle your weight to settle yourself over his hardening cock.
“Glad you like it.”
Leading him into your warm embrace, the chills shivering up his spine misplace his senses as your added weight and plush ass on his lap doesn’t register until the first slow roll manifests a throaty growl from him.
One hand holds you still with an unrelenting squeeze of your hip as the other shoots up to grab at your tail. A sharp gasp sounds before your back arches, nails digging into his back while you can’t help but look to the ceiling with bowed eyes.
“Behave, Saint.” He husks from above you, the height difference still even allowing him to see your face as you sit in his lap. “I’m gonna kick you out of this damn office if you’re going to act like this.”
“Please, Price.” The tips of your fangs drop a bit lower at the ache to kiss him and drag them along his skin, your pussy already beginning to soak your underwear.
While you’d normally be in control of the entire situation when having sex, Price was different. When a succubus was able to crave someone and hold a significant want and lust, they became the pleasure sought after. You craved Price like no other because there was no other. You behaved just enough to know that if he didn’t actively want it, you’d be broken. Body, mind, and soul.
A click of your teeth has him watching as you attempt to bite at his face before fighting against his hold to grind down again. He pulls your tail tighter.
“I’m hungry.” A smile taints your lips this time, unable to hide the humor in how hard he fights against giving in while his dick is now rock-hard underneath you. “We both know how much you’d enjoy it.”
His eyes narrow, jaw clenched in anger, at himself or you- probably both. Grinning like the devil you are, you take his lapse in concentration to bounce softly on his lap.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He groans, and you whimper. Just dry humping and imagining him pumping inside of you, the pull of the seam against your clit, both make your folds plump with sensitivity.
Another bounce, ending with a roll that strokes his cock.
“It’s my lap or nothing. I’m not helping you get off.” His resolve cracks, releasing your tail down to knead your ass, fingertips digging in harshly.
Needing no further instruction, you set the pace in slow rolls that drag across his lap. Bringing out soft grunts, it revels inside of you as your walls flutter around emptiness.
When the grinding isn't enough, you settle for bouncing again; Relying on the rough material of your pants to pull at your panties and clit. His eyes dart up from your hips, caught watching how erotic you move, yet he’s not afraid to smirk as you cup his jaw, bringing his lips close.
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
Groaning from the denial, you keep moving. There’s still a chance for you to win him over, how trained can a man be when he’s got a beautiful creature spurring him on?
“It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”
“I already said no. You ain’t gonna shake me.”
Your lips draw up in a sneer at being told no. That's not supposed to happen.
“Did you not get what you wanted, sweet girl?” His hand moves from your neck to stroke hair away from your face, but still leaves the other on your ass.
“You’re a prick”
The growl that leaves you is quiet. It would startle any human, but Price knows you. He only hums in response, moving to grab the cigar before inhaling and leaning back into the chair.
What a cocky bastard.
“Don’t be a brat. You knew I let you sit here not for that reason.” The hand on your ass leaves a sharp sting once it spanks you, the sound echoing in the quiet room. It sends a shiver to your wet cunt, feeling a mini-tremor in it.
“This is my favorite spot, don’t you know?”
“Spots’ not on tha map, Saint.”
When you left his office, you at least felt good about the wet spot on his lap.
~~~
On nights before a mission, you’d consider slithering your consciousness to Price, debating on dream walking to bring him dreams filled with you, filled of him. The promiscuity of diving into his dreams and allowing him to ruin you in a haze cradled your consciousness in a steady fire.
Tomorrow, you’ll be out for a long excursion with the team in the woodlands of Australia. You’ve been there before, remembering being fresh into your transformation and visiting a plethora of military bases. At the time, you were being shown off at Pine Gap like a traveling circus, bored from the land being too obnoxious for any fun- because of course, you had tried to fight a kangaroo when your handlers weren’t looking.
Dreamwalking was something you’d engaged with rarely, as the humans in the compound didn’t sleep there. You’d practice putting them in a trance and had gained enough experience in succeeding when they left your cell block rotation as a heavy flush coated their face.
Price was designated to keep you in the barracks room by his, at the end of the hallway where his only neighboring room was yours. The team that created a military position for a succubus knew what needed to happen, and they were not afraid to set parameters and expectations that Price had to follow before your arrival.
Tonight, as your body finds its tether to his mind, you're ready to cloud and confuse his logic with pleasure. A cloudy and warm rush to his senses makes Price’s body stir when the sudden feeling of you lying atop him settles on his muscles and mind. With a slow grinding roll of your hips, your fangs sneak out just a bit more to leave a light mark under his jaw as your hands knead at his firm chest. He can see you, feel you naked with him under the covers of his bed. Your soft but firm legs straddle his waist as a hand rakes through his hair to give a tug causing a soft hiss to leave him.
“How th’ fuck you get in ‘ere, love?” He manages to push out past his lips in a soft grumble, the rough calluses of his hands skimming down to the curve of your hips before squeezing the flesh of your ass.
And fuck, when the pet name slips out no doubt due to his drowsiness, it makes you clench on nothing while being in your own room a few yards away from his.
“You let me in, sir.” The answer comes back to him in a matched tone, working to slide your wetness over his growing arousal. “Hope that’s alright with you.”
Feeling the tip of him push against your clit and noting he’s already hard, your hand trails behind you to line him up with your fluttering hole. The grip on your ass tightens, his blunt fingernails dig in as he bucks in hazy anticipation. It's enough to catch the rim of your hole but slipping in the wrong direction.
Price, far too gone as your sense of lust clouds his mind, pushes your ear against his lips as he takes himself in hand and lines up with your entrance again. “Impatient thing, aren’t you?”
Not giving you enough time to answer, he pushes the tip in letting it settle before grabbing your hip while the other hand pulls your hair in a tight fist. “I’ll let you bloody ‘ave it.” He groans in your ear. You leave yourself amazed at how real it feels, seemingly forgotten of the unused power at the ready for your next meal.
A small hiccup leaves your lips as he slides in; Not too long but his girth made up for everything. It’s been so long, your inner demon laughing at you as if you were a virgin again but crying out in time with your pulses as you feel fed for the first time in months.
“Gods, so fucking hot-” Price drones on, sounding half asleep and drunk on lust by the way his speech slurs in soft whispers. “Hottest pussy I’ve ever had.” If you were in his bed you’d truly laugh at him speaking on your internal temperature.
“You’ve never had anything like me.” Moving to help the tired man, your hips go down to meet his ever-languid thrust up. His hand on your ass holds your lower back as his knees pick up once planting his ankles on the mattress.
“Ain't that right.” He retorts, a light scoff coming from him as he buries his head to find your neck to leave long, sloppy kisses against the soft skin. “Use my cock, baby, know you’ve been wantin’ it. Be a good girl an’ use it.”
With his permission and the subtle need to show him what he’s been missing out on, you take the lead. Planting your hands on his chest and sitting up, you bounce on his cock with steady vigor. Each clap of your skin hitting his sounds real. Enough to be more than just a dream. His grunts, shaky curses, and heavy breaths ring out in the space of his mind as he drives up to meet your soaked walls.
“Jus’ like tha- gonna make me come already. God, I’m gonna-” Snake down to lay your chest against his, bouncing your hips in quick movements.
“Inside. Keep it in.” His mind still fails to register that protection was nowhere near a consideration as his body runs hot. His hands grab control to pump himself up into you in rough and steady slams of one, two, three, before stilling and twitching inside of you.
The shiver that coils your spine in a curve is erotic; The way your mouth parts in a beautiful ‘o’ shape, tits pushed out for him to take in his mouth while your body shakes from the orgasm of being fed his spend. His breath pants over your pert nipples, biting them gently with a low groan before settling you over him. You wish you could stay more to hear his pillow talk but the more talking to happen and keep yourself there is a waste of time and energy.
“Goodnight, Price.”
~~~
Sunlight greeted Price when he awoke to his blaring alarm, grumbling while shooting a hand out to silence the forsaken thing. Usually an early riser and far too used to the normalcy of the early mornings, he felt like a cinderblock sinking to the bottom of the Boston River.
A right fucking tea party in his pants, that's for sure.
With every second his eyes are closed, he can feel the phantom movement of your hips on his which has him already twitching his morning wood at the memory. Price has had wet dreams before, plenty of times while a teenager or when he had a girl back home while serving as a Lieutenant. None of them had felt like this- like he was on a drug trip and feeling absolutely every movement and sense you rode out of him.
Letting a groan akin to a bear's roar echo in his room, his eyelids keep blinking to make the bleariness leave to welcome the light of day into his mind. And Price just… sits there for a moment.
Yes, he was asleep and didn’t have the control he would much rather prefer over you being in his bed, but by Satan himself that was just the last thing he needed.
There wasn’t much time for him to seek out physical attention or affection from others, constantly married to his job and watching his back for those looking at him. There had been a handful of women who were graced with hot nights, but he’d always be gone by the time they’d woken up. These women stemmed from the pubs far off town and closer to his home. Even a young recruit on a different unit had tried her luck but was instantly shot down without a thought to him.
He has a name and team to uphold, he wouldn’t earn himself a court martial just for an easy piece of ass. But now presented with your beautiful self while officials are giving him the green light, he has no idea what to do. You’re growing close to him already, something he tried to resist with all the boys on the team until they had bludgeoned their way to his heart by force.
He couldn’t let you do that.
To be used, having someone two steps ahead of him through reading his feelings and laying them out on a silver platter. It would be devastating to the way he functions, the way he holds himself, and how he carries out his mission. Manipulation is his greatest peeve. Protecting his heart is his greatest operation.
Price doesn’t see you until later; Making sure supplies and operations were starting smoothly, his mind was in a flurry of motions he subconsciously grew used to over the years. He knows what boxes need to be checked, being sure to be prepared for everything. He wasn’t prepared to find you in the briefing room before anyone else, looking right as rain and ready to go.
You’re a wicked piece of work, being able to act as if nothing was askew. Totally innocent. You could feel his glare before even looking at the man, and gods above so below, he was pissed off. Horny, and pissed off.
“Good morning, Captain.” The sound of his footsteps halting leaves the room quiet, making you look up to him. “Everything alright? Seems like you’ve seen the devil himself.”
Even with knowing this team for a short time, they could be impressed by how well you could read their emotions. Even Ghost, with just a look of his eyes and gauging what lays under his mask. Right now was not one of these moments.
Approaching slowly, eyes watching where he steps, the indent of his cheek shows where he bites at it. “Tell me, sweetheart. How’d you sleep last night?”
Once reaching where you sit, he leans on the table with a heavy hand as the other holds the back of your chair. “Because you seem mighty chipper this morning, eh?”
A wave of vexation washes over you from his tone and gaze alone. You’re beyond thankful you’ve taken a moment to not show your tail today or else it would have frozen in place.
“I slept fine, ready for the day.” Reverting to innocence was starting to piss Price off.
“Right, right.” Grunting in response, he moves in closer to your face. “Because I woke up tired, cum in my pants, and quite the feeling of a very warm weight over me. Would you happen to know anything about that, little devil?”
“Would there be an issue if I did? That's quite the allegation, Price.”
The wood underneath his hand squeaks with the strain his fingers pull at it.
“If you ever do that again, I will be contacting your owners and having your ass back on a plane faster than you can go to sleep.”
With the Captain’s anger solely focused on you, resentment stemming all from a dream and granting him pleasure, something inside of you breaks off into cooling embers. A cold shiver washes down your back. The mention of going back to your previous commanders makes your stomach roll with pinpricks at the mere thought of what they would do to you.
“Do. You. Understand. Saint?” He whispers once his lips press against your ear, and the bastard can see the fear running through you when your red eyes look past him at the wall.
“Yes, Captain.” It waivers on your tongue, thinking you’d have enough strength by the tightness in your throat yet it fails you.
Seeing Roman so aggressive and angry is turning me on BEYOND belief!! Like DAAMMNN DADDY!! Pls just destroy me!! Bruh he’d be so hot and dominant when angry!! Like pls choke me daddy! Why am I the way I am!??? 😩😩😩😩😩
