Word Count: 2.3k
Content/Warnings: top!deimos, bottom!reader, dom!deimos if you squint, sub!reader if you squint, gn! reader (no pronouns used), reader has female anatomy, sex work/prostitution (reader is a pornai in ancient greece), orgy, dub!con b/c deimos is terrifying and because of the nature of reader's job
A/N: surprise, surprise... the deimos fic is my longest kinktober fic yet. also- this is like... a dash of exhibitionism in the midst of a whole lotta me just thirsting over deimos, to be honest. sorry not sorry. also also; deimos is evil! let's not forget! this fic is morally grey because i like evil women. sorry not sorry AGAIN!
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
Your hands are far too shaky as you tilt the jug of wine over the cup below it.
You had been hoping to dodge this cup tonight, but considering your luck, you figured this moment was inevitable.
Still, that doesn't make you any less terrified.
Not of the cup, of course.
The cup's owner, on the other hand? You're afraid you'll piss yourself before you can finish pouring her a drink.
You've only ever heard stories of her- golden armor glinting and covered in the blood of those who dare defy her. Body littered with scars of battles that should have been her end. Stare hardened, expressions hollow, eyes dead.
She's devoid of a soul, some say.
But her wine needed refilling, and you were the only one left to do it.
The rest of the pornai- tonight's entertainment- were otherwise… occupied. You had been warned of the debauchery that would surround you as soon as the hour grew late, but you're jarred just the same.
It's all a bit much, really; grunts coming from your left, moans coming from your right, and the cup's owner straight ahead, staring you down as you knock it over.
A sharp gasp rips through you, your eyes wide in horror as you scramble to place the amphora down and pick up her now-empty cup. You spew apologies, keep your head down, and try to blink away hot tears before they fall.
You're in the middle of yet another, "I'm sorry," when,
"You're pretty."
Your eyes shoot up before you can help it, and now, you're face-to-face with Deimos. The Cult of Kosmos's very own living weapon, lounging on the sofa in front of you, appraising you with a lazy grin. One arm rests against the back of the sofa, her head nestled against her knuckles.
You don't have time to find your words before she continues with more of her own.
"You're lucky for that, too," she continues, leaning forward to pluck a berry from the bowl on the low table you're kneeling in front of. "Otherwise, I'd be very angry that you just wasted my drink."
She speaks playfully, but you know she once had a servant's tongue cut from his mouth for daring to steal a cup of her favorite wine.
This woman angers easily, and when she is angered, she is violent.
But you didn't expect her to be so beautiful.
"I-I know," you stutter. "I really am sorry. Terribly so. Allow me to-"
"You're new, too?"
She interjects again with her observation.
"I am, yes," you confirm with a shy nod. "I apologize that it's so obvious."
"It is," she blunty states.
And then, she holds out a hand, suspiciously inviting.
"Stand up. Come 'round."
Your own hand still shakes as you place it in hers, eyes glued to her in apprehension as you slowly rise and make your way around the table.
"Sit," she commands.
You make a move to take the place beside her- but, then, she's shaking her head with a devious smirk.
"Mm-mm," she hums.
She spreads her legs and pats a strong thigh.
"Right here."
You freeze for just a moment, but gather yourself and sink down onto her lap just as quickly as you remember that Deimos's orders are to be followed without hesitation.
Your knees shift on the cushion beneath them, your hands tentatively finding purchase on her shoulders.
"…Like this?" you whisper.
"Like this," she nods. "Very good."
At first, you reckon that it's the initmacy of this position that makes you feel as if all eyes in the room are on you; but when you steal a quick scan of your surroundings, you find that tonight's guests are eager to see who Deimos has deemed worthy of her attention.
"You're tense," she notes.
"I'm sorry," you quickly reply.
"Do you always apologize this much?"
The question catches you off guard. You aren't really sure how to answer, so you're relieved when she speaks before you have the chance to.
"Don't apologize again. If it's the spilled wine you're worried about, know that you're about to make up for it."
A chill runs down your spine.
"Are you afraid?" She tilts her head.
You exhale shakily. "I don't know."
A playful smile tugs at her lips as her hazel eyes scan your face. You're not sure where people got the idea that Deimos's eyes are dead.
In them, you see only fire. Raging and wild.
"Are you afraid of me?" She probes.
You aren't sure whether or not she wants honesty. She's known to be so volatile- so easy to set off- that you worry any answer you give will be the wrong one.
You dare to share that with her.
"I'm not sure what you want me to say," you shake your head, body adjusting awkwardly.
Her arms move from where they were resting on the back of the couch, her hands settling on your hips.
"I want you to tell me if you're afraid of me," she repeats.
And the gods-honest truth is…
"I know I'm supposed to be."
She quirks a brow, prompting you to continue.
"But… I don't think you're going to hurt me. I'd like to think you aren't, at least… though I know you could."
She seems pleased with that answer.
"Are you attracted to me?"
This question needs no consideration.
"Yes," you breathe.
"Good," she nods. "Can I fuck you?"
Your eyes go wide.
"Right now?"
"Not right now. I'll warm you up before I'm inside you."
You can't help but chuckle, though you know that laughing in Deimos's face is a death wish.
But, she thinks you're pretty. Her amused smile says she likes your laugh, too. Your luck is looking up tonight.
"No," you smile, "that's… not what I meant. I just mean… here?"
She scoffs and waves a hand in the air, gesturing toward the godsdamned orgy happening around you.
She's witty. Quick. And really starting to grow on you.
"Fair," you nod.
"May I, then?" She purrs.
"You needn't ask. I'm here for the taking."
Something flashes across her face. Something akin to disgust.
"I don't take my women."
That, you don't expect. Perhaps it's because she's a woman herself, that inflicting herself upon another is a line she won't cross. Still… you're surpsied. Pleasantly so.
"I'm sorr-"
She cocks her to the side. A warning. She'd told you not to apologize again.
"I'm…" you have to swallow another one. Finally, you opt for, "Yes. You can… fuck me."
You're pinned underneath her gaze for long enough that a, "please" escapes you.
The wolfish grin that stretches across her face goes straight to your core.
"Come here," she nearly growls, grabbing the back of your head with a large hand.
For a woman as privy to agression as she is, Deimos's kiss is remarkably tender. Her lips are soft, warm, slow-moving against your own. Her tongue against yours doesn't feel like an invasion, but rather, a practiced dance. Her hand in the hair at the nape of your neck doesn't pull or tug; just cradles, steady and grounding.
By the time she pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breath labored, your body buzzing.
She brings a thumb up to wipe at the spit pooling on your lip, and without thinking, you suck.
Her eyes go wide as your lips wrap around the digit, your cheeks hollowing and your toungue swirling.
"You're dangerous," she chortles.
You remove her thumb from your mouth with a pop.
"Says the war weapon," you muse.
"A good tongue is far more dangerous than any blade I've wielded," she quips.
You giggle as you lean in to kiss her again. She straightens up to meet you in the middle, one hand kneading at your hip, and the other making its way underneath the fabric pooling at your thighs.
You suddenly pull away, bracing yourself with a hand against her breastplate.
"I don't know if I'm wet enou-"
"I know," she assures you. "Take your time. I just want to feel you."
You attempt to bite back a whimper.
Your attempt is rendered useless when she presses two fingers to the aching bud of nerves between your legs.
She leans back with a smirk, letting her fingers dip down into the ample slick you said wouldn't be there.
You can't help but rock into her fingers, gasping nearly every time their tips prod at your clit.
A sudden squeeze on your hip halts you.
"Are you trying to keep quiet?" Deimos asks dissaprovingly.
Your face burns. You almost apologize.
"I don't want to… make a scene."
"And I want them to know that you feel good," she suddenly jeers. "They know better than to say a word about it. Let them hear what you sound like."
It takes concious effort to let yourself go like that in this circumstance. Not because you're uncomfortable; on the contrary, in fact- you're a bit more thrilled by the prospect of people seeing that Deimos chose you than you thought you'd be.
But this is still only your first symposium. She knows, that, too. It's why she's patient as you work up your rhythm again, thumb rubbing soft circles into your hip as she waits for what she knows will be music to her ears.
The grin of approval on her face when she finally hears it makes your heart wrench in a manner completely unexpected.
As the overhwhelming urge to do whatever it takes to maintain her approval takes over you, you find yourself wondering why anyone would ever bother standing against her when she makes obedience this tantilizing.
Your grip on her shoulders tightens as you rock back far enough that her fingers nearly slip into you.
"Can I?" You plead, brows knit together in pleasure.
"Take whatever you want, agapi."
You? Taking Deimos?
You'd laugh if you weren't busy sliding onto her long fingers and choking on a moan.
"There we go," she purrs. "That's it."
Your body calls all the shots for you. You prop youself up with your hands against her breastplate. Your hips roll against her, languid and filthy. Your head lulls back, your eyes flutter shut, your jaw goes slack.
And the mewls that pour from your lips?
Every head in the room turns to seek out the source of such unbridled noises. This isn't a performance- not like the other pornai are offering.
This is real, and you're so lost in it, you couldn't give a damn who bears witness.
it isn't long before you topple over, burying your head in her shoulder, too wrecked to keep up the pace you've set.
"You gonna let me help now?" She chuckles.
"Please?" You pant, wrapping your arms around her neck.
She wraps hers around your waist, holding you tight to her chest as her fingers begin to plunge in and out of you. She works slowly at first, searching for what makes you keen; and when she finds it- quick, shallow strokes with her palm grinding against your clit- she's relentless.
She's perfect.
"Oh, fuck," you whine, "right-" a gasp, "right there… please, please don't stop, please don't-"
"I'm not going anywhere," she says, her voice low.
Gods, her voice is gorgeous.
She's gorgeous.
You want to see her, you think. Need to see her.
You manage to push yourself up to face her, just enough to rest your forehead against her own as you rapidly approach your release.
"I'm gonna come," you pant, nodding against her.
"Let's see it," she smirks. "I bet it's so pretty."
You nearly fall back onto her shoulder, but her free hand grabs your jaw before you can, holding you in place.
"I said," she grits, "let us see it."
You clamp down around her fingers, eyes squeezing shut as your wanton moans finally cease. With the breath stolen from your lungs, all that manages to escape you is a squeak as you twitch uncontrollably atop her.
"Let them hear, you" she warns. "Take a breath, and let them hear you."
You frantically shake your head. "I can't," you mutter. "I-"
She sits up straight, pulling you in by your jaw.
"Take a breath," she repeats sternly, "and let. Them. Hear. You."
A loud sob of pleasure wracks through your body, and she leans back with a victorious grin, fingers still pistoning.
She's long since worked you through your orgasm when she finally relents, your coiled mucles finally relaxing. As soon as she pulls her fingers out of you, you fall against her chest, her breastplate cool against your burning cheek.
The hand covered in you stays put on your thigh, while the other traces mindless patterns on your back. She says nothing as you catch your breath- just sits and waits, far more patient than you've ever heard of her being.
When your eyes finally flutter open, you find that most of the room has cleared out.
You shoot up, eyes going wide as you realize you'd definitely fallen asleep against Greece's most feared.
"Easy," she whispers, her own eyes going wide as you jerk awake. "You alright?"
"I didn't mean to fall alseep. Was I a bother? Did I keep you from leaving?"
"No," she shakes her head, "it gave me an excuse to send the guests home. You needed the rest, and I wanted the quiet."
A small, surprised smile appears on your face.
"You didn't answer my question," she continues. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," you quickly nod. "Quite. Are you?"
Her eyes narrow for a split second.
"Do you stay in Korinth?"
Deimos, on the other hand, doesn't have to answer questions unless she wants to.
"Yes," you chuckle at her diversion.
"Have you ever been to Athens?"
You shake your head. "I haven't. I've never gotten the chance. That's where you reside, yes?"
"Where I reside?" she echoes incredulously. "It's where I rule."
You avert her gaze with a shy smile in exchange for an apology. She grabs your chin with her thumb and pointer finger, tilting your face back toward her.
She wears a warm smile now. One you didn't think was possible for a viscious warlord.
It was early when he left, Reveille hadn’t even blared its siren song to give rise to the base and its inhabitants. It was almost dreamlike in the way he came to you, soft and sweet in pulling you from the depths of your slumber. He left your mask on and you were grateful for it, without your sight it was easier to let the roles slip, just take it as it presented itself without the clouded lenses of your predicament.
So when he leaned down and lightly shook you awake you came up gently as the cot dipped to accommodate his weight. “I’m going, sugarcane.” You groaned and when you spoke, voice sleep strained and groggy and he saw your arms strain against the straps as you attempted to lift up and touch him made him wish to call the whole thing off, who gave a shit about meetings when he could just undo your straps, pick you up bridal style and carry you over to his bed where you belonged, lay in bed all day and make love to you over and over and over.
But it’s easy to forget the kitten has claws when she’s like this, it’d do not to forget she’s not as docile as she presents. “What time is it?” His fingers trail up your arm, the gloved pads of his digits swirling nonsensical patterns on your warm skin. “Early. 4:30. You can go back to sleep, I’ve arranged for someone to come in and help you out of your restraints and feed you, you’ll be staying up here until I return. I’ve got a surprise lined up for you later today.” He stops speaking and you feel one glove come up and smooth your hair, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the errant strands on your forehead.
“Be good for me.” You almost wish you could be but you won’t and deep down you both know you have to play the game so he says it and he means it but it doesn’t mean he believes you when you say you will. He spends a few more fleeting moments lingering in this early morning light, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your temple, one that cut through all the bullshit and made its way to the core. It was a message, a last plea, stay, be good, I know this is fucked but it could work couldn’t it? We both feel this, behind the roles and twisted implications, who gives a fuck how it started?
Then he was gone and you drifted off until Reveille woke up an entirely different woman than Deimos had kissed on his way out the door. A few minutes later someone entered the room and pulled the mask from your eyes. It was short and stocky and he looked as pissed off to see you as you were to see him. Obviously though, Deimos had had some sort of chat with him about his manners because he was on his best behavior as he carefully undid your straps.
It wasn’t time yet so you stayed compliant, sitting up on the cot and waiting for him to back away before standing and heading for the bathroom. He didn’t watch you like Deimos had as you showered but he was right outside of the door and frisked you a bit too thoroughly as you stepped out, dressed and ready for the day.
He left the room and you alone in it as he went to get breakfast for you. It was the first time you really got a good look at your surroundings. The room was double big, like it was really two rooms where the wall separating them had been knocked down. The walls were papered in deep red scroll and his bed took up the center of his section of the room. There wasn’t much else to speak of, a few dressers and a wardrobe against the far wall, a desk with a few pens in a cup on its mahogany surface. Your section of the room was even barer, just your cot and four empty walls, though they were also papered in dark red scroll.
It wasn’t long before short and stocky came back, tray in hand as he plopped it unceremoniously on the desk in Deimos’s section of the room, it didn’t topple over but the contents spilled out of their sections into each other and the juice you were meant to drink knocked over and spilled out over the wood. He looked you dead in the eye before turning and leaving.
You were glad for the way things turned out later on. You stood from the cot and made your way over to the desk, while the juice was off the table (more like all over the table) the food was still edible and after retrieving a towel from the cabinet in the bathroom and cleaning up his mess, you ate everything eagerly, you’d need every bit of it to escape. When you’d finished you knocked on the door and he came back to retrieve the tray.
“Good, you cleaned up your mess. Good to know he’s teaching you something useful other than how to take his cock.” You don’t even bother with a response, let it sink into your skin, you’ll get your licks back and they’ll be far more rewarding as actions rather than words. He isn’t quite done yet though.
“What? Nothing to say? You’re no spitfire. Whatever he sees in you is bullshit and he’ll know it soon and when he does I hope he lets me pull the trigger on you. I wanna watch the life drain from your eyes as I’m the last thing you see.” That seems to satisfy him and he leaves believing he’s the one on the high note. That's fine, let him. The morning passes slow and you try to retrace the plan in your brain, check it once, twice, three times for flaws. There is no alternative, no plan B. If this didn’t pan out your way, if anything went wrong, your goose was cooked.
It wasn’t until after lunch that you decided Deimos was probably far enough away that if something went awry it would at least take him some time to get back, enough time for you to get far enough away to have a chance at disappearing. You could link back up with rainbow after you’d meshed into the closest population dense city. Short and stocky had just left with your empty lunch tray as you bent down and pulled your paper clip free from its shoe home and unbent it to turn it into a shabby but functional lock pick. The outer doors of the facility were far too heavy duty for your little makeshift tool, but the door out of this room was all you needed unlocked for your escape.
You got up off the bed and walked to the solid wooden door, pressing your ear up against it to hear any activity on the other side. It was silent and still as far as you could tell so you bent down and set to work, carefully raking the paper clip around inside the lock mechanism to try and jostle the tumblers. It was a slow, tedious process but after a few minutes work the lock clicked and the knob turned freely.
You stepped cautiously out of the doorway and out into the hall. Short and stocky stood at the top of the stairs with his back to you, this was your chance. You strode forward with careful purpose, trying to stay as quiet as possible while moving as quickly as you could, if he saw you now it’d be a fight and one you’d probably lose.
He started to turn and you took the last few strides in a run, the element of surprise nearly lost as you pushed him with all your body weight and watched almost in slow-mo as he careened over the edge of the stairs, arms pinwheeling to prevent his fall but it was no use.
His side made first contact with the concrete stairs, producing four audible, gut wrenching cracks that seared white hot pain up his spine and knocked the air from his lungs. He continued to tumble, rolling over once, twice, and landing awkwardly on his right forearm at an acute angle. It’s there he heard another pop as his arm took the brunt of the fall and he landed in an agitated heap, screaming mad and hell bent on killing you when he got to his feet.
But before he could you were on him, the last thing he saw was your fist coming down on his temple, ironically knocking him out the very same way he’d threatened on the night of your capture and then all went dark.
You had to act quickly now, it was possible someone could have heard the commotion or would come up here for anything at any time so you stepped over him and raced down the last three flights of stairs and carefully made your way across the sky deck, head once again bent between your knees.
Entering the main building you had to act quickly, it was imperative that you avoided being seen until you changed, you were the only person on base wearing a skin tight jumpsuit and everyone would know you’d escaped upon first glance. Ducking into a particular side room you’d eyed the last time you’d made this trek with Deimos, you found what you were looking for.
It was an old supply room, dusty and mostly unused it was full of stores of toilet paper and cleaning supplies, a stack of desks, a few empty filing cabinets and what you came here for. In a box on the floor, a sight you gazed upon by chance after a soldier stepped in for a rack of toilet paper as you were passing by and stored away for this particular moment, was a pile of old uniforms. They were musty and it took you three separate sets to find ones that weren’t either covered in mildew or faded and the ones you finally settled on were about two sizes too big but they’d do.
You slipped them on over your clothes, you couldn’t risk another soldier dipping in for toilet paper and wanted to leave as soon as possible to avoid either short and stocky waking up or someone coming across him. This was a mistake you came to regret later, but hindsight is always 20/20.
You strode out of the supply closet in no rush, a patrol cap pulled down low over your eyes as you casually but briskly made your way towards the doors of the facility. You depressed the bar on one of the heavy metal doors and pushed out into the warm air. You surveyed the outer compound with scrutiny and found everyone tucked into tight groups, no lone wolves, which meant if you were going to get out of here without being singled out immediately you had to blend.
You spotted a set of soldiers by the gate, rifles in hand and more than likely headed for the gun range you’d heard but never had seen. You walked out with purpose and snagged two empty ammo cans from a stack by the wall and stuck yourself in the group, making sure to linger around the back so as not to draw too much unwanted attention.
The platoon leader called attention and you snapped to, the action just as much instinct as it was disguise. When he calls forward march you begin to move, keeping pace with the group and keeping your head down. You pass under the gate with the weight of nervous anticipation balancing precariously on your shoulders, expecting at any moment the call to halt from above but it never came and you marched out past it and onto a trail through the woods without hiccup.
When the gates were too far back and concealed by foliage to see you dropped off from the group, simply sliding behind a tree until their footfalls became too distant to hear. You left the ammo cans behind and sprinted out into the trees. From what you could remember there was nothing for miles around, just endless forest but you knew there was a little town about twenty miles south and if you could keep up a relative jog you could make it there just after nightfall.
You took a few glances back to make sure you weren’t being trailed but all you could see was empty forest. Your heart pounded with excitement but you knew better than to let it get the better of you, there was still much danger ahead and endless-
Your muscles locked up violently, legs stopping mid step and freezing as white hot pain zapped down your neck, coursing through your spine and consuming you from within. You called out involuntarily, a guttural pained scream that started and seemed to never end until all your breath was expelled and it died out in a hoarse croak. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, couldn’t move and you heard the wail of a siren sound back in the direction of the base.
You stretched an arm out in the direction of safety, willing your body to crawl towards it with the last of your might, but it stayed put in stubborn defiance. The sight of the pines swaying in the wind, their dark green needles seeming to reach out for you was the last thing you saw before darkness stole over you.
When you wake it’s like waking in a dream, a dream you've dreamt before, fundamentally the same but different slightly. The pain is back, though then it was head driven, a throb radiating almost solely from your cranium but this is different. This feels like static but everywhere. Your nerves are shot to shit, jittery and fried, your fingers and toes tingle and there’s a metallic taste in your mouth.
You try to take in your surroundings when the feeling finally subsides a bit, fading out from forefront surround sound until it’s just background noise at best, though it still roars in and out of focus. It’s the same room you’d woken up in the night you were captured, only this time instead of tied kneeling to a padded platform you’re tied to a table, face up and completely naked, arms hoisted up past your head and secured to the northern legs of the table. Your body is stretched out across the top, eyes up skyward looking at the dingy ceiling. Your legs are spread, each tied to a seperate southern table leg to keep them that way, your ass is pulled to the edge of the table and as you crane your head south you can see him watching you from between your spread legs.
It was you who broke the silence first. “We can’t keep meeting like this.” He comes up and stands between your legs and he makes it obvious by the crane of his head that his eyes are trailing up every inch of your body, taking in the sights and landmarks along the path to your eyes before he even speaks.
“Cute. You think now's the time for jokes, eh?” You try to not think about what comes next. You’re naked, which means you’re probably not going to die just yet but it doesn’t mean he won't cut you down at any time past this point, maybe he was just waiting for you to be awake. Your only solace is that short and stocky won’t get to pull the trigger on you, you made sure of that.
“Just couldn’t be good for me, could you?” You flinch as his hand glides up your thighs to palm your hip, the padding gripping the flesh rather roughly. “What did you expect?” And he can’t help but feel pride under all the disappointment because you’re still cocky and fierce as all hell even tied to a table and completely at his mercy, and there’s something in that that makes his combat pants just a bit too snug for his liking.
“Not for you to put Vasquez in the infirmary with four cracked ribs and a fractured ulna.” You scoffed. “If I disappointed you then I’m soooo sorry but one thing I’m not sorry for is anything that happened to that fucking asshole, he got what he deserved and you’re lucky he’s in the hospital and not the morgue.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with me. You’re already in deep fucking shit.” And his use of curse words make you flinch, you can only recall a handful of times he’d cursed and never had he done it in anger but it doesn’t change anything. If he was pissed off then good, so were you.
“The shock collar was a low blow. Kinda barbaric don’t you think?”
“Worked though, didn’t it? I knew you’d run eventually. It’s ok, I’m not mad. It’s only in your nature.” The way he says it piques something in the back of your mind but he glosses right over it, almost like he’s speaking to himself.
“It did cut my meeting short but that really could have been an email anyway. But you know terrorist organizations, always wary of the digital footprint. You’re not off the hook though. Violent outbursts, escape attempts, lies. Ohh you’ve got a lot to atone for.” He gave your hip a painful squeeze but you held your tongue against the groan it threatened to elicit. When he stopped you felt it safe to speak.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” He moves away from you and somehow feel less secure with him wandering about the room than if he’d stood put beside you. You vaguely hear the shuffle of papers and your heart stops when you hear him call out your full name.
“Standard checkups, vaccination records, routine physicals, psych evals, two hospitalizations, one for an apparent appendectomy the other outpatient surgery for the removal of shrapnel from your abdomen and left thigh.” You tensed as he read you your medical file and your breath hitched as he called out the last procedure on the list.
“Ahhh and last but not least an IUD procedure completed just two months ago.” You started to get angry, the familiar heat of it almost comforting. Almost.
“You scalped my file?!”
“You’re not the only one with friends in low places, sweetheart.”
You considered it momentarily but was still unsure what it changed or why it mattered. “So what? It’s not a pill, I didn’t lie to you I just withheld some truth, what the fucks it matter?”
“So what is you didnt fucking tell me.” And there was the cursing again and this time it was punctuated with a loud bang as he drove his fist into the metal table your file had been resting on. You’re unsure why he’s angry, could he really believe you had some kind of rapport? It seemed like he did, and maybe that’s when it all snaps into place for you, this isn’t some elaborate psychological tactic, it’s not a ruse. He genuinely is keeping you just to have you for himself and it's then you realize you won’t die, there’s never been any danger of death. He’s not keeping you out of spite, you can’t annoy him enough to end you. It doesn’t matter how many times you run away he will drag you back to heel like some kind of wild dog because he’s just insane enough to try and tame you.
“So now.. I have to figure out what to do with you.” He walks back towards you and you can feel his eyes on you, making your skin erupt with gooseflesh, he walks up the side of the table and brushes the side of your face with the palm of his hand, lightly cupping it. You stare up into the obsidian lenses of his mask, unsure how to act. You can’t see his eyes but just know somehow past those black panes he’s staring down at you so tenderly and the weight of that fact sits uncomfortably on your chest.
After a moment he speaks again. “Since you’re so desperate for release, you’ll get none. I need you to understand your actions have consequences and I will see to it personally that you learn.”
After a moment you understand he means to fuck you again and shortly after that the innuendo dawns on you as well and you just laugh. “What the fuck makes you think I’ll do anything you say?”
“You want incentive? How about if you’re good and you take your punishment like a good girl, I’ll see to it that you get some training, opportunities to stretch your legs a bit? Obviously you’re restless, pent up animalistic tendencies, I can understand that. If you’re good, I’ll make it happen.”
The fucking audacity of him to think you’ll accept treats for parlor tricks. Like some kind of dog you’ll just roll over for belly pats. “Screw you! You bastard! Let me fucking go!”
And then his hand goes from stroking your cheek to gripping it, the thumb digging into the soft flesh of your cheek while the rest of his fingers line your jaw, pursing your lips together and preventing any more lip.
“Not enough for ya? You wanna act like a brat? Fine. How about this? Either you do as I say or I’ll take you down to the infirmary. The IUD procedure is simple enough and so is the removal.”
Your eyes widen and even through the grip he’s got on your maw you threaten him, eyes burning up at him like hot coals. He can feel the heat. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
“Ohh, I think you’d be surprised at the things I’d dare. If I feel you so much as twitch around my cock I’ll have them take it out and then we’ll see about starting our own little family together, huh? I’ve always wanted to be a dad but have just never found the time to get around to it, better late than never though, right? I mean, surely you’re confident enough in your fertility to justify the need for protection, I’m sure you’ll make a fine mother. Whaddaya say, sugarcane? How’s your maternal instincts?”
You struggle in the bonds and slip out of his grip, pulling viciously at the ropes but they just cut harder into your skin, the harsh woven fibers biting voraciously into your flesh. “No! Don’t you fucking dare!”
He regains purchase, this time around your throat and he can feel your pulse beating wildly, even through his glove. “Then do as I say.”
You stop struggling, for one because the ropes feel like they’re starting to draw blood and two because he’s let you go in favor of drawing down towards the southern end of the table. Fingers tracing lightly down your side and then back up the other until his fingers skim along the soft length of your inner thighs and you’re left hanging in anticipation as he spreads your thighs further apart to slot himself between them as they travel higher and higher.
The pads of his fingers find your clit and press ever so slightly over the bundle of nerves, drawing lazy circles over it and you can’t help the tensing of your muscles, the way your eyes squeeze shut as you fight the sensation. He plays with it, unrelenting until your arousal starts to well up around the edges of your slit, his fingers drawing down to gather it and spread it generously around.
You inhale sharply as your nipples pebble, hard and aching to be touched. He notices and brings the hand not driving you slowly into madness up to pinch one and roll it between his index and thumb. Your back arches and his fingers leave your breast to encircle your neck, squeezing the sides lightly to capture your attention.
When your eyes fall on him he speaks, and you can hear the apparent arousal in the gravel of his voice, hear the way his eagerness bleeds through, pining to have you again. “Show me you can practice restraint. Show me your self discipline. Don't disappoint me, soldier.”
His fingers push into you slightly for the first time and the edges of your vision blur as your mouth falls open at the dubiously welcomed intrusion. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were locked on yours watching your reactions with careful scrutiny. “Be good for me.”
He pulls out just as fast as he’d pushed in and then he’s gone for a moment, you hear him easing out of his tac pants just enough to pull his cock free and you close your eyes, willing your mind to relax and resist. But when he nudges up to you with the head of his cock, flicking it through the part of your sex and coating it in your slick heat you wonder just how much resolve you have in you.
He leans down over you as he pushes into you in one fluid thrust and you moan with him, unable to stifle it, the sweet ache intoxicating. “Fuck.”
He doesn’t give you time to adjust or catch your breath, just uses you with little to no care for how you fare it. His thrusts even out into a steady rhythm as his hands find purchase on the table you’re tied to and something about feeling him thrust up into you without any other contact, the push and pull of his cock without the feel of his hands on you has your eyes rolling back in your head until you have to squeeze them shut to try and regain the reins of your sanity.
You try and weather the storm, really try to focus on anything other than the devastating drive of his hips but it’s almost impossible. And then you feel his thumb over your clit again and your eyes fly open as the sensation makes you clench around him involuntarily, your arms pull at the ropes, desperate to push his hands away because if he keeps it up you’re not gonna make it.
And then he starts to speak. “You did this to us. Could’ve come back and taken my time with you, could’ve been good and I’d have spent all night just like this, fucked you good and raw til you screamed my name but you had to try. Had to test my patience.”
You try and block out the words, shake your head back and forth to try and not hear him but you can’t and it just adds fuel to the flame and he notices but doesn’t relent. He can tell by the shake of your thighs and the way you’re digging your nails into the palms of your own hands that you’re struggling to cope. He picks up speed a bit and your mouth drops open, prompting a sweet low moan to escape and he wishes he’d blindfolded you before he started because all he wants to do is drink up every single sound before it has a chance to leave your throat, swallow them down to keep them all to himself.
You’re gripping him so sweetly, the clutch of your pussy unlike anything he’d felt in a long, long time and he’d be damned if he’d give you up now. There’s not a thing on this planet that could separate the two of you, not even you. He’d love to see you try, really truly try to keep him from you. He’d never stop, never stop clawing his way back into your life no matter how hard you ran. He’d always find you, in this life and the next.
He can feel it too, the effect he’s having on you. He can feel it in the way your pussy clenches around him, can hear it in your back talk and banter, he knows you’re doomed, even if you don’t and he’s gonna enjoy every second of your downfall, every little slip of your grasp of sanity and reality until the only thing left is him.
His thrusts get particularly heavy, hips punctuating his point as he growls down from above you. “You will be mine.” You’ve lost, you know it. You try and fight it but he’s hitting it so good, cock dragging over that spot that makes your toes curl, there’s no escape and no relief and he knows just what he’s doing. Can feel your ruination coming to fruition and you’re so fucked.
You want to beg, beg him for forgviness, beg him for mercy but you can’t, it’ll just fall on deaf ears and something about it is just too compromising for your pride. Why should you let him know he’s getting to you? Why should you have to kneel at his feet? You’re supposed to be a warrior, a force to be reckoned with, an oddity among women and men for that matter but you’re so fucking close and he knows it and it’s killing you.
“Is it hard, sugarcane? Bet you’re so fucking close. Bet you wanna come for me don’t you?” And he leans in close, pelvis grinding down against you as he keeps up your ruination. His tall frame dwarfs yours and you sigh in relief as his hand finally ceases its assault on your clit to come up and seat itself against the back of your neck, pulling your head up and drawing your forehead against his as his other hand abandons the table for a grip on your hip, pulling you down against him as he thrusts up into you, making the sensation just that much more unbearable, making you cry out just that much louder. He dips down to whisper close against your lips, like he’s about to impart some great secret and he doesn’t want to risk allowing the rest of the room to hear it, empty or not, the shell of his mask so, so close.
“Do it. Let me make you mine in the most ultimate of ways. I’ll take such good care of you and the baby, I swear. Come for me and we’ll start all over.”
You’re quite nearly delirious, holding onto the last of your resolve with bloody fingers. It takes everything in you not to come around his cock, the way it fills you completely, hot and hard is going to be the death of you, or rather the birth of a new you but you can’t. You can’t bare this monsters offspring, he’s a goddamn terrorist for fucks sake and so you hold off until you feel you’re ripping apart at the seams.
You want to succeed but it’s slipping and you’d almost given in to the defeat when he finally comes, you feel it, thick and heavy in you and by god’s mercy he stills and you sob with relief. Chest heaving as your pussy spasms in protest around him. Sweat and tears streak your face as you let out shaky breaths to try and regain your composure. He pulls out and rubs his hands up your body, starting at your hips and gliding up your sides until he’s working at the knot holding your hands above your head.
You feel the ropes loosen but are too overwhelmed to do more than shift them down a bit to alleviate the ache in your shoulders. He says nothing as he comes around the side of the table and scoops you up off of it, pulling you into his chest and cradling you close. You can’t fight him, don’t have the strength so you just rest your head against him and let him carry you all the way out the door.
You shift to get comfortable in his arms as he makes two lefts, and then a right. Closing your eyes and breathing deeply as he climbs two flights of stairs and crosses the sky deck. Burying your head in his chest while he mounts the last four flights before you feel him gently deposit you onto a surface far too comfortable to be the cot.
Only then do you look up at your surroundings. “Bet you didn’t even stay long enough to see my surprise, did you?” His surprise is a queen sized bed, since you’ve been gone it’s been brought in, assembled and made. While it’s nothing fancy, having been carefully checked over with a fine toothed comb for anything that could aid you in another escape attempt, it was very lavish for someone being held prisoner, though you know he doesn’t exactly see you as that even if you still do.
There’s an awkward moment where neither of you knows quite what to say, for some bizarre reason you can’t explain there’s an apology waiting on the tip of your tongue. You won’t say it but it doesn’t mean it’s not there. He reaches up past your head to the metal headboard and pulls down a new set of restraints, they’re long and give you a bit of range as to how much you can move but they’re still restraints.
After you put on another white tee from the seemingly endless supply he has for you, he takes your hands and silently puts on the leather cuffs, securing them. His touch lingers on your wrists even after he’s finished and you feel like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t, just pulls your mask from its place and pulls it down over your eyes. You lie back and get comfortable as he moves away from the bed and undresses.
You listen to the familiar sounds of him sliding into bed and then the room stills and you drift off, until Reveille wakes you in the morn.
general nsfw headcannons ft. hank . sanford . deimos . doc . phobos .
warnings ; biting (hanks part) , other then that it’s not that bad
authors note ; LOL IMAGINE BEING GONE FOR LIKE 4 WHOLE MONTHS!! ikik im sorry, kinda loss motivation, but tryna get back into it! hope you enjoy <3
𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 !! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈 !!
𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 is both a sadist and a masochist. you can not tell me this man wouldn’t use his metal jaw at all while you two are goin’ at it, trust me when i say he’s gonna put it to good use.
he gets so heated when he sees his bite marks on you. he wants to show all the others just who you belong too, so expect to be marked everywhere. everywhere. he’s very territorial when it comes to his stuff, and you’re going to be included.
also LOVESS being marked on himself. he wants you to bite him until he bleeds, and he won’t take anything less. he’ll literally cum his pants immediately when you do, he also likes to show who he belongs too.
this is unpopular, but I just feel like hank would love to be bottomed out. you on top of him bouncing on his hard cock is a sight for sore eyes for him, because he knows full well he could take control if he really wanted to. he could quite literally pick you up and flip you over in seconds, but you have him wrapped around your finger so much that he lays there and enjoys himself. another note, he’s known to be quite selfish, so it makes since for him to lay there in lust while you do all the moving.
but don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean he’s in it for himself either. hank absolutely adores to see your face in euphoria. when your eyes roll at the back on your head as he fucks into you makes it intoxicating for himself as well. he’s so determined to have you yell out his name, and rivals at the fact that he’s the one making you feel good. it gets him going so much, the fact that you come to him to fuck you raw and no one else, because no one can do it like he can.
speaking of feeling good, this big guy has so much stamina that you both will be goin at it for HOURS. he’ll stop when you stop ofc, but man.. if you refuse so tap out you are GONE by the time he’s finished with you. hank has so much pent up aggression that the only way he can let it out is by killing (ofc) and fucking. when he’s so built up in lust, that’s all he can think about when he sees you. fuck. fuck. fuck.
WEAR HIS STUFF. this will drive him absolutely wild. hank is a very big dude, so seeing you in his jacket that very clearly to big for you does…something for him. not only that, but it transfers his scent onto you, which he adores. swear if he sees you in one of his spare shirts, you will not escape his grasp for a while. loves to fuck you while you wear his clothes, it honestly might be one of his main kinks.
loves to manhandle you, so expect to be tossed around in a lot of places. he won’t be too rough to the point where it’ll hurt you, but just know the both of you won’t stay in the same spot or the same position for long. does not care if you make a ruckus because of this, either. in fact, he wants others to hear what y’all are up to, so that they know not to mess with what’s his <3
𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 is a bit more tame out of the group, but don’t let that fool you. he can be an absolute freak if you so wish.
he has such a size kink. man comes in a huge package, so seeing you underneath him as he can quite literally just hold you down with one hand has him feel things he’s never had before. loves the fact he can just bound both your hands with his big one.
speaking of size, san-man loves to see just how well you can take him in, despite you being so small. he praises you and tells you that you do such a good job for him, and seeing the bulge in your tummy as he pushes in all the way has him seeing literal stars. cannot fathom how amazing you look.
this guy lives to serve, lemme tell you. we already know that sanford is a very determined man, so when he has his mind dead set on something, best believe he will get it accomplished. that includes marking you cum as many times as he can! he loves seeing your face and hearing the noises you make.
adores giving you head.. literally could stay down there all day and night if he could. he gets so drunk off the way you taste, and get even harder when you finish in his mouth. he just wants to taste you over and over and over again.
PLEASE suck and play with his chest. dude is big and buff, so he has a lot of body to love and share. he gets so flustered and riled up when you do, it’s one of his sensitive spots. when you lick and squeeze his pecks, he always has to stop you because before long, he could finish right then.
also, if you want to turn sanford on? be soft to him. seriously, seeing you all sweet for him drives him WILD. he’s so vanilla, and he kind of takes pride in that. he doesn’t just want to have sex, he wants to make love. so make sure you kiss him, and whisper to him that he’s doing you so good. hold him tight and close. he will lose his damn mind.
switches up so easily, it’s humorous. we all know sanford to be quite loud and boisterous; always feeling the need to announce himself. be it friend or foe, you know when he’s in the room by the sheer boom his voice develops when he speaks. don’t let such an action fool you, however. when you both are alone, you can tell sanford is feeling lustful by his tone. he gets quiet and, funny enough, a bit shy. also not that loud in bed because of this, but you don’t mind. in fact, it’s actually quite cute how you can make such a loud man go quiet at the sight of you. <3
𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐒 is a whore. plain and simple. doesn’t give a shit about it either, everyone likes what they like, right? he may be a cocky and flirtatious dude, but once you get him in the sheets? it’s all fair game from there. that person that was teasing you constantly in front of your co-workers is completely separate once you tend to his needs and wants.
firstly, he his the exact opposite from sanford when it comes too vocals. when he’s out and about, his voice is so raspy and low, which of course comes from all the smoking he does. even when he shouts while he’s on the field, it’ll take once or twice before deimos is heard. but once you get him in bed? that’s a whole nother story.
this guy is so damn loud. to the point where it’s actually a bit concerning. you sometimes have to even cover his mouth or shove your fingers down his throat to get him at least a little quieter, because just telling him is not gonna do it. but hey! it’s not like he minds… perhaps he even gets loud on purpose because of this ;)
just about anything can turn this guy on. does not matter where you are, what time of day it is, he will make sure you KNOW when he wants to get down and dirty. ofc he’s not gonna force you if you ain’t up to it, but if and when you are, best believe he is dragging you to the nearest (semi) secluded place so y’all can take care of business.
speaking of semi secluded places, because of this sluts sex drive, he ADORES quickies. like i said, the bare minimum of what you do can have him hard as a rock in seconds. it’s also the thrill that gets him going, too. the meer fact that someone can walk in as deimos is pounding into you (or the other way around) is both nerve racking and exciting to him. he finds pleasure in someone knowing just how y’all fuck, and that it’s only meant for the two of you. they want of piece of you? well too bad! he has you all to himself.
mutual masturbation is his main kink.. deimos is aware that he has a nice body, and is very aware that you like it. he likes that he can turn you on just as much as you do him. he especially likes the way you ogle at him as he sits in front of you, pants down to his knees and his shirt lifted up, pumping his dick with his hand right in front of you. he likes feeling wanted, but loves knowing what he does to you. he also loves seeing your body too! sit across from him and let him watch as you go at yourself too, he’ll lose his mind.
deimos LOVESSSS to be manhandled. when he does bottom, he wants you to be rough. choke him, edge him, move him around like a rag doll, etc. the sheer amount of times he’s cum in his pants back to back is wild, lemme tell you.
speaking of cum, he cums a lot. so much. he can’t help it, honestly, and he’ll do it just about anywhere. inside you, on you, on himself, he likes em all. deimos is also a somewhat shellfish person in my opinion. i mean, he’s been through so much, you can’t blame him for wanting to feel good, right? you make him feel so good, he just can’t help himself when he cums for the 3rd time in the last 20 minutes. but oh, don’t worry! he’ll make sure he returns the favor
Disclaimer: I've never written Deimos before (hope I wrote him well!) Additionally, this story contains EXTREMELY dubious-consent and themes of non-con (emphasis on the NON-con). Please do not read if you are under 18 or are sensitive to these kinds of topics, please and thank you.
Summary: You are a Rainbow Six Operator and you have been captured by Deimos. He tries to intimidate you with his usual methods, but when he can see that isn't working, he tries something different.
Tags/Warnings: NSFW, dub/non-con, reader is smol, Deimos isn't nice (duh), rough sex, interrogation, clothed male/naked female, a little dacryphilia if you squint
Word Count: 1.6k
Seriously if you read beyond this point and don't like the content then that's on you. Final warning.
You wriggled in your seat, trying desperately to free yourself from the ties that held you in place. Taking in your surroundings, you could see that you were in a small room, with a fluorescent light above your head, and only one door on the far end of the room. There was a chair in front of you. It was at that moment you realized that you were naked.
When the door opened, you jumped. A masked man stalked forward. He was tall and frightening…intimidating enough to make your heart stop. You gulped, wishing that you’d stayed on base like your superior officer told you to. The man sat across from you casually, leaning back and legs spread out.
“Where am I?”
“Now, now, that’s classified. But I was thinking, before I came in here, about how I wanted to get the information out of you that I need.” He leaned forward. You could see your reflection in the eyes of the mask. “You’re a good lookin’ girl, no need to harm that pretty face. How about you tell me where the Rainbow Six base is, and I’ll let you walk out of here free and clear? Hm?”
You furrowed your brow. You had friends in Rainbow. You had people counting on you to keep your mouth shut. There was no way you were just going to give up that information willingly. If it came down to it, you were better off dead than giving up your squadmates.
“Just kill me, I’m not going to tell you anything.”
You were trying to keep yourself from crying. You were a soldier, how embarrassing would it be to cry in front of your enemy? You couldn’t deny the terror building inside of you though.
“Yeah, thought you might say that.”
He stood up. His height alone was enough to send a chill down your spine as he stepped forward and knelt in front of you on one knee.
You couldn’t tell if he was looking you in the eyes, or looking at your body. You felt a warm trickling tear fall down your cheek. Damn it, you thought.
“Yeah, now that’s a good look for you sweetheart. Go ahead and cry it out.”
“I’m not telling you anything!” You said, venom laced in your tone.
Once again you tried to wriggle free, but your hands were bound together and your feet were tied to the chair tightly. You weren’t going anywhere unless he let you go.
“Well, I have to say I’m a little disappointed you’re not going to give up the information to me so willingly.” He stood up again. You felt so small in comparison to him. He cupped your breast in his gloved hand, “perhaps you’d like to make it up to me somehow?”
“You’re disgusting.” You said as he brushed over your nipple with his thumb.
Your body deceived your mind though. His touch felt good. You looked away from him, embarrassed that you felt that way. It wasn’t like you saw much…action being in the Rainbow base all the time. You didn’t want to admit that you were…sort of into the idea of a big guy like him having his way with you.
“Heh, looks like maybe you would like to make it up to me, huh?”
Another tear fell down your face, and you wished you could wipe it away.
“You call me disgusting and yet…” He brought his fingers down to the wet pool formed on the wooden chair underneath you. He collected some of the juices you’d expelled there and brought them to your lips. “You’re so wet.”
He ran his soaked and gloved fingers over your bottom lip.
“C’mon sweetheart, open up.” You begrudgingly obeyed, fearful of what he may do if you didn’t.
The taste of leather combined with your own juices filled your mouth. You felt tears continuing down your cheeks, though you weren’t necessarily in distress, you were still frightened.
“If you’re good for me, I might even make sure you enjoy yourself.” He pulled his fingers free from your lips.
In a swift motion he pulled out his knife and snapped the ties off your feet, though your hands still remained bound to each other. You didn’t move though. You weren’t sure where you would go even if you did make a run for it. There was no telling where you were being held, and if there were others waiting to catch you or kill you just beyond the door. Not to mention, you could see the revolver resting on his hip, just waiting for a target to fire at.
“You’re smart, I like that.” He chuckled, “Now, I want you to get up and kneel on the chair, keep your back to me honey.”
“No.” You shook your head. “No I won’t.”
He sighed heavily, “I’m not going to be nice if I have to repeat myself. Come on.”
You sensed the truth in his words and decided to stand and turn. You got on the chair again, one leg at a time and let your breasts hang over the back of it. One of his hands, now gloveless, rubbed your asscheek, placing small taps on it as though he were testing its resistance.
“You know when I found you, I thought to myself, ‘there’s no way this girl is actually a Rainbow Six Operator, she’s far too pretty to work for someone like that.’ But…here you are.”
You heard the clanking of what you assumed was him removing his belt. He tossed it on the floor, confirming your suspicions. You gulped.
“I-I didn’t know you guys did stuff like this during your interrogations.” You said, somehow hoping that it would make him stop.
You felt the head of his cock as he ran it up and down over your folds, coating it in your wet slick.
“We don’t…but I didn’t know Rainbow had girls there that look like you either. Just relax, it’ll be over soon.” He grunted, pushing himself into you.
He was big…bigger than you were expecting and you gasped. You were glad he was holding your hips in place, otherwise you would’ve tipped forward face-first in the chair. He reached an arm around your small waist and found your clit with one of his rough fingers.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not cruel. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.” He cooed, circling around your swollen nub, made slick by your wet cunt.
You moaned, hating yourself for it, but it felt so good. You felt your walls flutter around his girth while he slid into you. His pace was even, strong, and relentless. You whined into the concrete room, feeling nothing but waves of numbness washing over your body. As more tears fell down your cheeks, you damned yourself for making audible sobbing sounds.
“That’s it, cry for me pretty girl, I like the way you sound.” He said in a gruff tone.
“You’re…mm…you’re disgusting.” You said to him once again.
He chuckled, “and yet I make you so fucking wet, what’s that say about you?”
His finger continued teasing your clit while his length was driving into you harshly. He made you feel so full from wall to wall you could hardly stand it. You shouldn’t have been enjoying yourself, you should’ve been screaming, kicking, and fighting, but you weren’t. In fact, you hadn’t even tried to put up a fight. Were you so desperate that you were ok with something like this? Maybe he was right…maybe you were just as disgusting as he was.
“Mm, I can feel your tight little pussy clenching around me…you getting close there sweetheart? You gonna come for me?” He asked, never slowing his rhythm.
“N-never.” You said, which you knew was a downright lie. There was no way you could stop your impending orgasm, it felt too good.
You let out a loud moan into the room, you could hardly contain it anymore no matter how much you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. You were trying so hard to stop yourself, so hard to stop the feeling that pooled in your abdomen at his touch. It was there, building, getting stronger with every thrust of his powerful cock.
“F-fuck I’m gonna…oh…I’m gonna…”
“Do it, come on, just let it out for me.” He urged, circling his fingers faster.
No matter how badly you didn’t want to, your cunt started contracting over his girth while you screamed out in your climax. You felt him too, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his hot ropes of cum. The sound was wet and messy as he kept fucking you even after filling you up. Finally, his movements ceased, and he pulled out of you with a groan.
“There you go…not bad.” He said.
He grabbed his belt off the floor and replaced it around his pants. While he did that, you turned back over and sat in your chair. His cum was seeping out of you, coating your thighs and rear. He sat down in the chair across from you again. Even with the mask, you could tell he was amused.
“Heh, you know, I should kill you, but where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll just keep you instead.”
Word Count: 1.2k
Content/Warnings: reader into knife play, top!deimos, bottom!reader, gn! reader (no pronouns used), reader has female anatomy, reads as dub/noncon until the end, cnc if you squint, deimos is very sassy lmao
A/N: i would be lying if i said this lovely lady in all her forms (as deimos and as the eagle bearer) was not my all time favorite character and hugest fictional crush. i don't expect them to get as much attention for lack of kassandra fans, but for the ones who are still around... i cannot WAIT to share my kass kinktober fics w y'all. even if you aren't familiar with her, i hope you'll try them on for size, anyhow! i tried my best to sprinkle in some basic lore for those who haven't played assassin's creed: odyssey so that, if you'd like, you can read without being too confused. okay love you bye!
You're well aware that the words you grumble hold no weight- that you're just tired, hungry, and sick of all the wild goose chases that come with the territory of working alongside The Eagle Bearer- but that doesn't make it any less frustrating to be feeling your way through said stupid cave.
You'd dropped your torch about 30 paces back on account of being so tired, but you know that The Eagle Bearer- Alexios, as you know him- can't rest either; not until he finds his precious pointy object.
Okay… fine. It's a bit more than just a pointy object.
The Spear of Leonidas, it's called, is an ancient weapon forged with power accessible only to those of the blood; those whose lineage can be traced back directly to the Gods.
Suffice to say, if this spear ends up in the wrong hands, all Hades may break loose- something that Alexios has made very clear in his incessant search for the blade.
You trip over your own feet, curse The Eagle Bearer, curse yourself, and then- for good measure- curse his gods forsaken sister for stealing his spear in the first place.
Well, technically, she's anything but gods forsaken, given that she has their blood, too. In fact, if someone had told you that she was her namesake made incarnate, you'd believe it.
Named after the God of Terror, son of Aphrodite and Ares, Deimos has undoubtedly lived up to the name the cult gave her.
Fiery, that one is. Ares could be her father.
And though you'd never share this with anyone, you believe that Aphrodite could be her mother as well.
You only wish Deimos weren't so... well... evil. It might be a bit more appropriate to gush about how disgustingly sexy the woman is then.
"Get a grip," you sneer at yourself. "Get a fucking grip. Find the fucking spear."
That's all you need to do. Find the spear. In a cave you've never stepped foot in until today, without the ability to see more than ten paces ahead of you.
You whisper a prayer to every god there is, because without their help, you're screwed.
And then, the sound of a weapon drawn clean. A flash of light. A hand around your arm, your body spun and pressed against the cave's wall, a spear's edge at your neck.
"Looking for this?"
Deimos.
And again, you whisper a prayer to every god there is, because without their help, you're screwed.
She tilts her head with a crooked smile. Her hazel eyes gleam, wild and predatory.
You swallow hard, tensing at the way your throat protrudes against the blade when you do.
"That's exactly what I'm looking for, actually," you breathe, your shaky voice belying your courageously sarcastic words. "How convenient."
The blade itself is carved with geometric lines that glow bright enough in the hands of the gods' descendant to illuminate the cave's passage.
"Oh, Gods," she scoffs, "I forgot how mouthy you were."
You clench your jaw to keep from rolling your eyes.
"Alexios is on the other side of this cave. You're a dead woman if anything happens to me."
"Was that a threat?" She asks, eyes narrowing.
You say nothing in return, lifting your chin ever so slightly in proud indignation.
"No, I'm serious," she deadpans. "Was it? Because, if so, we need to work on your threats. That was pathetic."
And then, as much as you try to stifle it- at hard as your bite the inside of your cheek- you can't help it.
You laugh.
A snort that has her raising a brow.
"You know that insolent sellsword doesn't scare me," she quips, a smirk pulling at her own lips. "He'll find you dead if I so wish it."
"Please,"
This time, you do roll your eyes,
"You'd miss me."
She rears her head back. Puts more pressure on your neck with the glowing blade.
Your breath hitches, and her darkened eyes rake over your figure.
"I should cut your throat for daring to mock me."
Your stomach drops. She leans down to whisper in your ear, and you poise yourself to hear what might be your last words.
"But, you're so pretty… it'd be a shame to watch you bleed when I could watch you come instead."
Your eyes widen as her sword lowers, dipping underneath your tunic and slipping beneath your underwear to lie flush against your hip.
"Deimos," you gasp, "your brother-"
"Is far enough away not to hear if you'll keep fucking quiet."
She twists the spear and slices clean through the fabric in her way, reaching down with her free hand to tear the rest of it from your body as she brings the sword back up to your throat.
"Can you do that?" She nods; and now, she's mocking you. "Do you ever shut up?"
You'll admit it. The answer is normally no.
But when her fingers slide through the arousal already pooling in between your legs, you're finally rendered speechless.
"You're debased," she shakes her head. "Drenching my fingers with a sword to your throat."
Your cheeks go warm with embarrassment.
Your center goes warm with desire.
"You like this, don't you?" She croons. "Knowing I could… press in…"
And the sword digs into your flesh just a bit more,
"And your life would be mine. It'd take a heartbeat-"
She draws a circle over your aching clit,
"Just one- and you'd be gone. But you like that, hm? That your life is in my hands right now?"
Your thighs twitch around her forearm. You bite down hard on your lip, knowing that if any noise escapes you right now, it'll be a wanton moan.
But Deimos doesn't like being ignored.
"You run your mouth until you're asked to speak?" she spits, flipping the spear so that its point now threatens to pierce your jugular. "Answer me."
The angle of the weapon forces your chin up farther than it already was after your attempt at defiance.
"I like it!" you sputter, "Yes, yes, I like it…"
She smirks down at you, fingers still working at your sensitive bud of nerves.
"You do?" She coos. "I should keep going then, yes? Or should I stop-"
"No!" You exclaim- too loudly, judging by the chiding look on her face. You correct yourself, voice lowering to just over a whisper.
"N-No," you pant, "please don't stop. Please keep going… just like that…"
"Just like that?" She mimics with a nod, mocking you once more.
Gods, she is such an asshole.
And still, you secretly love it when working with Alexios means you'll cross paths with Deimos, because you know it'll end like this: with her fingers pressed to your clit and a blade pressed to your throat.
She sheathes it, though, when your release finally wracks through your body, wrapping an arm around your waist as your legs give out; and in the dark, she works you through each wave of pleasure until you're pushing her hand away, and holds you up as you gather yourself after the fact.
You rest your head against the wall behind you as your labored breath slows down.
"You alright?" She asks, voice low and concerned.
In the shadows of abandoned caves and empty forests, your Deimos makes an appearance, tender and caring.
"I'm perfect," you sigh.
"I can attest," she purrs, dipping down to place a kiss on your exposed neck. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," you shake your head. "Not at all."
She hums in acknowledgement, resting her cheek against the top of your head, reveling in the shadowed silence.
You break it to say,
"I do need that spear, though. Will you give it back?"
Clover bounds the length of the yard in a few strides and is up the stairs in one as the door opens and an elderly woman steps out of the porch to greet her. Sitting, she eagerly waits for the woman to bend down and give her loving, her tail whacking the old boards with the combined force of her generated excitement. When she stands up straight again Deimos is there. They exchange warm greetings and she pulls him in for a big hug, though her arms only make it just over his waist as he towers over her smaller frame.
“I see two familiar faces and one stranger. Son, introduce your company.” Her accent is subtle but her voice is strong and resolute despite her age. She smiles warmly at you and you politely return it as you wonder just how he plans to introduce you.
“Mama Anne, this is one of my soldiers, she’s helping me oversee the transfer of some important assets at the coastal base.” He turns to you and calls your name, you’d pay anything to get to see his face at this moment. “This is my god mother, Mama Anne.”
She extends her hand to you, now properly introduced. You shake it and she holds it, bringing the other up and using both to hold yours. “You can call me Anne or Mama Anne or just Mama. Whatever you prefer dear. It’s such a delight to finally meet one of my boy’s work friends. Especially one so strong and beautiful. Tell me dear, are you married?”
Your eyes widen just slightly as your smile deepens. Just as you’re about to answer, Deimos interrupts you and begins to usher her back into the house. “Mama Anne, it sure is getting late. We really should get our stuff inside and get settled in.”
She bats at his chest but lets him guide her inside and begins to run off on a tangent about how rude it is to interrupt his elders and how she hadn’t even gotten the chance to offer them dinner yet. The conversation wans as they disappear further into the house and out of ear shot. Clover jumps up on your thighs and you give her some gentle pets as you wait for Deimos to resurface. When he does you’re already at the back of the truck, pulling suitcases and bags from the bed.
“Upstairs, or…?” He takes them from you and nods his head towards the back of the house. “We’re staying in the pout house.” You grab another set and with both of your hands now full he leads you around the side of the house. “I’m sorry, pout house?”
When he answers you can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s just what we called it when I was little. You’ll see.” As you round the edge of the expansive white monolith you are greeted by the sight of a mirrored, albeit slightly smaller house. It’s the same ivory shade, the lichen growing up the sides just like its twin. Still two stories tall it took up a considerable chunk of the back half of the kempt property, backdropped by a sprawling field of waist high marsh grass and young sabal palms.
He explains the history of the house to you as you near the worn front door. “Back in the day they used to do all the cooking in this house before carrying the finished dishes into the main house where they’d be served. It kept the main house cooler back before there was air conditioning or even electricity. Over the years advances in technology made the need for a seperate out-of-house kitchen obsolete, so over time we added additions onto it until it became a whole second home. It was repurposed as a guest house or more often than not a pout house for when one of us would get fed up with one another.”
You smiled as you stepped into the door frame, the pout house was smaller but the inside was fully furnished. Everything inside was dated for sure but well kept giving it more of a homey rustic feel. “Did you ever stay the night here by yourself as a kid?”
“Oh a ton, but more for camping than pouting. Though one time I did ‘run away’ from my parents house after getting in trouble. They found me here three hours later and I was in even bigger trouble.” You laughed with him as you both mounted the steps. He carried your suitcase to a room at the end of the hall. The room was mostly empty save for a dresser and a simply done queen sized bed. It was covered in an old quilt and headed with a few pillows.
He set your suitcase down on the floor by the end of the bed as you sat down on the edge. The ancient springs creaked softly under your weight, a siren call to Clover who was roaming around outside. You heard her climb the stairs before nosing her way into the little back room. Seeing you sat on the bed she found a little spot by the door and laid down, claiming her spot.
“Well someone’s all settled in. I’ll bring her bed in here and she can sleep with you. You probably won’t need that quilt, you can just strip it off and leave it on top of the dresser.” He left and you began to strip the bed down to the sheets, neatly folding the quilt and moving it over to the dresser. He came back with Clover’s bed and she moved so he could place it where she’d been.
After devouring dinner, a huge helping of Mama Anne’s wonderful home cooking and a slice of pie, even despite the nap you took in the truck the road had a way of wearing you down and you found yourself yawning uncontrollably at the table. After thanking your host for a lovely meal you both headed for the pout house for an early night in.
You showered first and by the time you stepped out you had expected him to have something rigged up to keep you chained to the bed, maybe undoing the restraints from your bed back at base and sticking them in your suitcase before you left but when you came in the room it was the same as you’d left it. Clover was already curled up in her bed by the door and staring up at you with her soft brown eyes. It appeared you weren’t the only one the road had taken a toll on.
He came in a few moments later, taking up most of the doorway pushed up against the frame. You felt something give in your chest at the sight of him, an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent. You tried not to think about it. “All settled in?”
You nodded up at him and tried not to stare. “Yeah, I think so. What should I do with my towel?”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll carry them to Mama Anne in the morning and she’ll take care of ‘em.” You felt a bit guilty just showing up to this woman’s home as a stranger and having her wait on you like this but it wasn’t like you had much of say in the matter to begin with.
“Does she really live out here all by herself?” He scooped your damp towel up off the top of the dresser. “She sure does. Don’t let her fool you, that woman is more than capable.” You nodded in understanding and began to pull the sheets back from beneath the pillows, yawning.
“Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.” You slide under the covers and just out of instinct wait for him to come shackle you in place but he never moves out of the doorway and so you both hover there in limbo for a moment. He breaks the silence. “Well I’m gonna go take a shower. Sleep well, sugar cane.” As he pushes away from the frame you call him back.
“Hey. This is odd but.. you don’t happen to have my mask with you? Do you?” He stops and stands there and you add more, trying to smooth over the request but just muddling it up the more words you add to it. “I’ve just gotten used to it, is all. And the windows in here are huge. The light… it’d hurt my eyes… ya know?”
He walks away and you feel small beneath the covers, wondering if he’ll come back. He eventually does, mask in hand but instead of putting it on you, like he normally would have to because your arms were never free to do it for yourself, he just hands it to you and you do it for the first time.
There’s a moment, after you’ve slipped the mask over your eyes and settle in where you hear nothing, just a measured length of silence before you hear his boots on the wooden floor, sauntering away. Shortly after the lights flick off, you know by the sound of the switch and the door to your room closes, you briefly hear the metal scrapings of a key fitting into a lock and then he’s gone.
A while later there’s the sound of the tap as the shower comes to life. The old home has thin walls and you actually hear him, the shift of his weight as he steps under the steady jet. You imagine him, bare and wet as the water cascades down his chiseled form.
Wondering idly if he takes his showers hot, the steam permeating the air as it rolls off him in waves. Or if he prefers them cold, the kind of icy chill that rips down your spine, giving rise to gooseflesh on your skin and pebbles your nipples. You want to find out, sneak out of bed and pick the lock, tiptoe on creaky floorboards and push open the door.
In your mind he pulls back the curtain, arms outstretched and pulling you in, one sliding down your back and melding you to him as the other tilts your chin, lifting your lips to his as he finally claims you. His mouth working over yours until it’s not enough and he has to have more, roaming your skin and marking the trail with nips and licks.
It becomes too much for you, the auditory stimulation that’s fueling your erotic daydreams and you find one of your arms snaking down your body, until the pads of your fingers reach the hem of your panties, a physical point of which there is no return and you falter. This is different from before, before you had no choice, for better or for worse you were a part of something that was beyond you but this was not the same. This was where the buck stopped, where it went beyond passive participation, and became something more.
As your fantasy furthered, so did you. Images of you up against the acrylic, your face smushed against the wall as he ravaged you from behind. His fingers digging purchase into the plush flesh of your hips, pulling you back against him as he lines his cock up against your slit. Mouth hot against your neck and ear as he makes you beg him to push it in, stopping the push back of your hips until you give him everything he wants to hear.
The thought of your surrender, your final descent, your fall from grace as you burn up for him, finally becomes too much. You cave and your fingers push into the fabric and skate down your mons. You wish they were his as they deftly circle your swollen clit. You let out a shaky breath as they push further to find you already damp. You bite your lip against your moans, trying to keep them at bay. It feels so good to finally give in, you could only hold on for so long and the release is saccharine sweet.
Your head drops back against the pillow as you imagine him pushing in on the first thrust, the initial stretch as he truly has you for the first time. Your arms collected behind your back in one hand, the other braced against your hip as he guides you all the way down onto his cock, your mouth falling open at the pure ecstasy of it. He stills when he drives it home, pressed up against you and seated fully inside.
He pours filth into your ear from behind. Telling you all about what a dirty little slut you are, opening up like this for him. How powerless you are against him, able to do nothing but stand there and take him, all of him. And perhaps the most scandalous of all, the deepest darkest part of you fabricating him promising to never let you go. Promising you’ll never feel the touch of another man again, promising to always keep you, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in this life and the next, you’re forever his as he fucks you feverently.
Your imagination runs wild, behind your closed lids you can see it perfectly. Your feet spread as wide as they can in the confines of the stall as he bullies himself into the space between, the feel of him against you. Can hear your moans and the loud sharp smacks of skin hitting skin echoing off the acrylic walls. Can feel the way his water soaked skin stings just ever so slightly with every snap of his hips as the water pours down his shoulders and back, little rivulets streaming through the paths of least resistance.
Your fingers work of their own accord to bring you to a speedy climax as your fantasies play and reverse and replay the dirtiest parts over and over. Imagining all the things you’d like him to do to you, all the ways you’d wish he’d ruin you, even reliving your past experiences. From the way he caught you at the very start, to punishing you for ever trying to escape, to taking matters into your own hands and riding him in the middle of the forest with dirt under your nails and pine duff in your hair and the smell of your combined sweat stinging your nose.
The wrongness, the pure abhorrent nature of it has your back arching that much sharper. Makes the climactic rock of it that much harder and as you give your final surrender you let his name fall from your lips, silently hoping he’d hear you and give in too, let him come in to find your fingers wet and your pussy already warm for him, let him pick the bones and devour what was left of you, until he’d totally consumed you.
As you recover from perhaps the most jarring climax you’d ever given yourself you hear the tap stop in the next room and you wait on baited breath as he dries off and the door opens. His bare feet still echo loud on the wooden boards and your heart beats fast as you wonder just what you’ve done, how far have you dared to push the envelope. But after a moment they recede and you’re left to stew in the aftermath, eyes wide open even behind the soft pitch blackness of your sleeping mask as your pleasure thrums through you and sleep eventually swells up to take you.
The next morning at breakfast you can hardly look at him but lucky for you he’s seems to be phased out again, lost in the maze of his own mind once more and while you’d have liked to speak more with your host, Mama Anne was out for the morning as well. An errand or two to run as Deimos put it, but she’d be back before he left.
Though the details on where he was going were also scarce, all you knew was that you weren’t going with him. This made you understandably uneasy, you were in a stranger's home, and your only familiar link was going away and he wouldn’t tell you where and he didn’t know for how long.
“Just hang out with Clover in the pout house and I’ll be back before you know it.” But there was only so much you could do in a house that barely had electricity, no computer or tv or even radio to speak of. Before he left he set you out some books. Old paperbacks that you’d never even heard of but it’d been a minute since you’d had the luxury of sitting down to read so you took them all the same.
You were sat in the parlor of the old home on a couch at least twenty years older than you, though it was still very comfy. After getting lots of love from Deimos before he headed for the door, Clover elected to curl up next to your feet, settling in for a long nap.
When he was gone it took you what felt like an eternity to even pick up a book. The silence of the huge house eating holes in your concentration. And you were worried about him, he’d been like a statue all morning, he hardly ate, hardly talked. It was clear whatever he had to handle, whatever this whole trip had been for, today was the day it was to be done and it was certainly affecting him. By the time you finally picked up the paperback from its place on the table there was a knock at the door.
The inside of the main house was not what you were expecting. While the exterior looked old and worn, the inside was clean and neat. The living room was furnished and comfy, a huge tv mounted onto the wall was on and turned to the news, an ongoing report about a train detailing in Tuscaloosa. It wasn’t until you saw it that you realized how long it’d been since you’d watched it. The shelves held assortments of knick knacks, small clocks and vases and crystal figurines but you noticed a surprising lack of photos. You couldn’t find a single one. You’d hoped to catch a glimpse of young Deimos but there was nothing of the kind.
The kitchen was similarly decorated. It was large and everything inside had been modernized including all of the appliances which were gleaming and new. Pots and pans hung from racks mounted to the lily papered walls. Lilac and deep navy trim lined the counters and cabinets. It was clear a lot of love went into the construction along with the heavy attention to detail possessed by a master craftsman.
Clover followed you into the kitchen as you set the bags she had you carry in down on the marble countertop and she began rummaging through them, setting things out on the counter from the heavy brown sacks before going back for more. Baking soda, whole roasted macadamia nuts, white chocolate chips. You were starting to see a pattern and only hoped you could perhaps benefit from the results.
“I hope you’re not allergic to nuts, dear. I’d have asked you last night had he not swept you away so fast.” You smiled and took the paper bags off the counter once they were empty. “No, no allergies. And I love macadamia nuts. Are you making cookies?”
“We’re making cookies. There’s a glass bowl in that bottom cabinet to your left.” Bending down and pulling open the door you immediately spotted the bowl in question and pulled it from its shelf as she preheated the oven and pulled a cutting board out, pulling the bag of macadamia nuts to her and opening it up.
She has you sifting flour as you talked. “How long have you worked with my boy?” Your mind reeled a bit at the question, you had to lie to keep up with his lie, you only hoped she hadn’t asked these questions to him already otherwise your answers may not match up.
“Not long, about six months.” She smiled as she worked, her hands deft and nimble with years of knife work under her belt. She hardly looked up at you while she worked. “Ohh, not very long at all, he must like you if he brought you home.”
Oh if you only knew the other half of it. But you didn’t feel like ruining this woman’s image of her god son plus it would make things extremely awkward so you went along with it and just asked polite questions to keep the conversation going.
“What was he like growing up?” She set the chopped nuts aside and started to collect the rest of the ingredients from their various homes. Vanilla extract from the cabinet, eggs and butter from the fridge.
“He was a good boy, minded his manners and did well in school. Grew like a weed and nearly ate me and his momma out of house and home.” You laughed along with her, you could certainly imagine that.
“How did you come to be his godmother?”
“Let’s see… My Henry met George Morris one sunny afternoon in May of 1967. He was taking the ferry out to see his mother on Gravine Island. The ferry had barely pulled away from dock when he heard a crash off the port side. A truck had swerved off the bridge and broken through the guard rails. Henry watched as it tipped over the side of the bridge and fell into the water and immediately jumped into action.” As she talked, now beginning to spoon out cookies, your movements stilled to listen.
“He dove off the side of the ferry and swam to the truck which had already taken on water and had sunk under. George was knocked unconscious by the crash but Henry was able to get him out of the seat and helped him to shore, saving his life. When George woke up in the hospital two weeks later he swore he’d never stop repaying Henry for what he’d done.” She pointed across the counter to the second sheet pan as she’d already filled hers. Grabbing it for her, you handed it over and she continued.
“Me and Henry never could have kids, we tried and tried but it just wasn’t meant to be. When Pearl and George found out they were pregnant they insisted on making us the baby’s godparents, effectively giving us the child we could never have on our own and we raised him up together like he was ours.” She smiled fondly at the end and you can really tell she holds him close to her heart.
“George raised his son with the image of Henry as a hero and idolized him. When he graduated high school he went off to college in Houston before joining the ATF and his military career took off from there, following in Henry’s footsteps.”
She put the finished trays in the oven and closed the door on them and the story, it was one you hadn’t expected. “Wow. That’s quite a story.”
She smiled at you and wiped her hands off on a tea towel. “Everyone’s got one dear. Now help me clean up while these bake.”
Deimos pulled the truck into the drive somber and mentally drained. He knew it was going to be hard but not like that, nothing could have prepared him for that. Pulling up to the house he put it in park and sat there for a moment just breathing and wondering how he got here.
After a moment he got out of the truck and locked it before saddling around the side of the house, headed straight for the pout house, with any luck maybe he could catch a nap before dinner. As he stepped up to the front door he found it unlocked and immediately grabbed for the vendetta in his holster. He cocked back the heavy hammer and pushed the door open onto the parlor. There was a paperback laying on the couch but the room was otherwise empty. He quickly cleared the premises but there was no sign of you. He swore to himself and ran out of the house.
You and Mama Anne had just finished drying the last of the dishes when he charged into the room. All heads, yours, Mama Anne’s and Clover’s snapped to the archway as he bolted around the corner in a panic but as he surveyed the room the panic died and he froze. Mama Anne let out an irritated huff and went off. “Gerald! What have I told you about running in the house?!”
His body language immediately changed, his shoulders drooping and his gun dropping to his side as he straightened out. “I’m sorry Mama Anne, it’s just…”
She stood waiting for his explanation. “Well? It’s just what?” He didn’t have an answer and instead apologized again and just left the room, leaving the three of you staring after him confused. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that boy!” Just as she’d finished speaking the egg timer went off and gave both of you another jump which she huffed at again.
“Go see what’s wrong with him, I’ll take the cookies out.”
You finally found him in the pout house. Clover curled up in the parlor and left you to tend to him alone. He was upstairs in his room, it was your first sight of it but you were too caught up in the moment to give it any real attention. You instantly felt sorry for him upon your entry. He was sat on the edge, his hands in his lap and staring off at the floor but it was clear he wasn’t present, lost somewhere in his thoughts.
“Gerald, huh? Never would have guessed.” But the joke missed and he hardly reacted. It was clear he was going through something, though you still didn’t know what. You took the hint and sat down next to him as he finally stirred. You didn’t expect the question he asked.
“Why didn’t you leave?” You shook your head but he stared up at you, pressing the issue. You felt uncomfortable with the answer that sat heavy on your chest so you gave him one that didn’t make your voice shake when you said it. “I’m scared of snakes.” You smiled at him, hoping under the thick hard shell that maybe you’d made him smile back, but he seemed as stoic as ever.
It was time to get to the heart of the issue. “Deimos, what’s wrong?” He sighed, like he knew this was coming at some point and decided that maybe now was the time. For a moment he seemed to be searching for where to begin before he spoke. “It’s my godfather. He’s… sick.” He paused and while his answer set in and you began to search for something to say he continued.
“We put him in hospice today. That’s why I had to come home. He’s dying and there’s nothing I can do.” The room filled with uncomfortable silence. You were scared it would come to this, you never had been good at providing comfort and had just begun to get a grip on your feelings towards him but you knew you had to do something.
Tentatively you turned to him and lifted a hand up to his face. You pulled it towards yours slowly. He allowed the movement but once facing you he froze, staying stark still like a deer in the headlights as you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss over the hard shell of his mask, your lips lingering there against the cool curve of it for a moment. Pulling back your eyes slowly dragged up to the dark lenses of his mask and you whispered against him. “I’m sorry.”
You moved to pull away, worried you’d perhaps gone too far when his hand gripped your wrist and held you there. There was a moment after as you both stared at each other in nervous anticipation before he spoke, softly.
“Do you trust me?” You stared up at him, your heart beating loud in your chest. It was a good question, one you were scared to answer. Did you really trust this man? This man who’d killed your squadmates. This man who’d kept you hostage and forced you to live in captivity. This man who stood for everything you’d been trained to hate. Did you trust your enemy? After a moment you whispered back. “Yes.”
He moved to stand and you started to stand with him when he stopped you. “Stay. I’ll be right back.” You did as he asked but the time he was gone seemed to stretch on endlessly. You nearly got up to go after him when he recentered the room and shut the door behind him. He held what he’d gone to retrieve out in front of him, it was your sleeping mask.
You looked up at him and began to backpedal. “Deimos I-“ the hand not holding the mask reached out to settle on your thigh, silencing you. “Trust.”
Your eyes met the dark pools of his mask again as he held the mask out for you. You reached out and grabbed it from him, taking one last look at your captor as the last thing you’d see before sliding the silk over your eyes and falling into darkness. There was movement, the ruffle of cloth gliding against skin and then you felt him, the heat of his body sliding up to yours, felt the warm puff of his breath close.
Your heart leapt to the front of your rib cage as you leaned forward slightly and closed the distance. You felt his lips against yours for the first time, surprisingly soft and full as he leaned into the kiss experimentally, deepening it. He began to shift and blind to the world, all you could do was let him guide you. He moved you up the bed, giving gentle guidance with his body as you followed suit.
Your lips lost his and you tried to find them again in the dark, already addicted to the taste. You felt one of his hands slide up your arm until it seated itself against the back of your neck, pulling you back into the kiss and holding you there, drinking you in. You roamed his chest, pulling at whatever you could get your hands on, trying to pull it off of him. He chuckled against you and nipped at your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away.
You must have displayed your displeasure because he came back and kissed you softly once more, a quick chaste thing that held meaning. Relax, be patient. You held still as you heard him pulling at his clothes and your arms couldn’t help but reach out to try and get a feel of what you couldn’t see. Your palm slid over his bare flesh, his chest warm and padded with thick muscle. Your fingers lost him as he dropped out of range, beginning to pull at your clothes and making quick work of your socks and shoes.
Next your top, sliding easily over your head and then your bra. His hands came up to cup and knead at your breasts. You jumped slightly, back arching as you felt him lean down and his mouth closed over one nipple, sucking it in and lavishing it with his tongue. He pushed you back down and pulled off of you, his hands beginning to work at the fly of your shorts. When they were undone he slid them, along with your panties down your legs and off your feet.
He climbed your body slow, sliding his hands up the length of your legs, planting kisses that dotted his ascent. He stopped short at your thighs and when you reached down towards him to pull him back up to your lips his hands met them and he laced his fingers in the spaces between yours to lock you in place.
“Patience, sweetheart. I want a taste.” You moan, vividly remembering the night you met and your legs fell open for him in anticipation. His mouth was hot on your thighs and he took his time, sucking marks into the unmarred flesh and claiming it. He licked a stripe up your slit without warning and your head dropped back on the pillow as your hips lifted to chase it.
He held your hands in place as his mouth settled over your clit, sucking hard and making you squirm. But he has no intentions of teasing as he dives fully into the thick of you, burying his face between your thighs and getting more than just a taste of what you have to offer. He eats you with a carnal thoroughness that rivals starvation, like he’d been craving you since he’d had you and been subsequently denied.
He could feel the muscles in your legs, thrown up on his shoulders, tensing and shaking as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The room, filled with your sweet sighs and breathy moans had him rutting against the bed beneath him but he can tell you’re close by the way your fingers are squeezing him, your nails digging into the flesh between his knuckles; branding the skin with crescent moons that he’ll fixate on until they lighten and lighten and then ultimately disappear.
The sight of you before him, head tipped back and tossing from side to side at each shift of his lips, at the very drag of his tongue, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, pushing the crests of your breasts up to the heavens has to be the most angelic thing he’d ever seen. The taste of you only concreted the point in his mind, for nothing this sweet could be anything short of divine.
He can tell you’re close, catching onto the way you've suddenly gone unnaturally quiet, the way your hips push into the sensations but your fingers try to pry themselves away from his. He doubles down, his lips latching over top of your clit and running his tongue over it in light arcs as your body snaps up off the bed, a long drawn out moan falling from your beautiful lips as it courses through you. He stops suckling to lick up your slit, catching every drop of you as you come hard.
By the time he’s done you’re squirming in his grip, desperate to get away from the devastating sensations. He relents and lets you go but only to climb up your body, his lips exploring every inch of exposed flesh on his way up. You pull him up to you and catch him in kiss, slow and deep as his arms hike your legs up until he’s caught you under the knees. His mouth never leaves yours as he lines himself up with your soaking slit and drags the head of his cock up and down it, wetting it.
His lips pull away from you as he pushes in slowly, bottoming out in one smooth thrust and groaning against your cheek as you cry out from the intrusion. You’re tight from your first orgasm and it takes an alarming amount of self control for him not to immediately begin to wreck you. He’s patient as you adjust but the second you buck up towards him he picks up the pace, unwilling to wait a moment longer.
You’ve picked a hell of a time to open up to him, emotionally vulnerable and looking for some sort of outlet he seizes the opportunity you’ve presented him by the throat. But by the way you’re moaning his name and scratching your nails down his back it seems to him like you can’t have many complaints.
Your legs shake in his hold, body jolting up with every thrust as your hands explore what you can not see. They slide up the steep hills of shoulders and across the length of his arms, over the rigid muscles of his biceps and onto the smooth hams of his forearms. Traveling further you place your hands on his pecs, feeling the beat of his heart and the bellows of his lungs. Sliding down the hard plane of his sternum to settle on his abdomen, addicted to the undulating movements of his pelvis beneath your palms and the way it syncs with the drag of his cock against your walls. You feel him fully for what feels like this first time.
He alternates periodically between worshiping your breasts and silencing your screams, swallowing them whole straight from the source. One hand leaves its hold on your leg to slide up and settle over your throat, squeezing gently and tilting your head to the side.
His mouth leaves yours to plant a hickey on your neck just below your ear before he starts to whisper, low and hot right up against your ear, pounding into you hard and deep all the while.
“Look so pretty like this. Bare and spread open for me. Tell me sugar cane…” His hips roll against yours and the angle it creates makes you whine low in your throat. “When did it change?” You know what he’s talking about but the way he’s got you right now has you unable to form coherent thoughts let alone try to voice them. But in truth, even you don’t know where it happened. Where the wires in your brain became so frayed they had eventually crossed, where the impossible thing occurred, where you lost yourself to him.
“It doesn’t really matter though, does it? I told you, didn’t I?” The hand not around your throat slips down and finds your clit and your back arches beneath him as you realize a split second before it happens that you’re going to come. “I told you that you’d be mine.” His teeth sink into the side of your neck and you scream as you come around him for the second time. Your eyes rolling up into the back of your head behind the mask, as he drives you through it. His lips ravage your neck, his thrusts turn sloppy as you writhe beneath him in unbridled bliss and squeeze him for dear life, the raw unfiltered pleasure of it burning through your veins.
He’s so close, just needs a little more to fall into the pit of his own pleasure and you barely hold on as he takes what he needs from you, with a final series of thrusts he comes deep in your heat with a roar, filling you full of his seed as you cling to him and take every drop. As you both come down he’s much more gentle, soft kisses up and down your neck and chest and cheeks as your breathing stabilizes.
You linger there, in the bliss of the aftermath still blind as he rolls off of you and pulls you close. Your head on his chest you can hear the beating of his heart lulling you into a dozy half awake state. You wonder where this goes, as you lay against him in his bed, the bed you’ve made where you willingly lay. He doesn’t let you ruminate on it, with a kiss to the head and a soft shushing he calms your thoughts and you fall into a dreamless sleep.
The blare of a sat phone wakes you with a start. Your head lifts from his chest and he slides out from beneath you to answer it. The call is curt and little is said but as he hangs up you feel him already getting up off the bed and begin dressing. Self consciously you pull the sheet up to cover you and wait for the feel of his hands on your skin.
When he pulls your mask off you realize it’s late, the light completely drained from the horizon, the only glow in the room emits from a little bedside lamp. He’s dressed and snatching your clothes up to hand them to you.
“Deimos, what’s happening?”
“It’s Rainbow, they’re coming. I know who the mole is.”
You expect to be locked up. Caged, enclosed, tied down and forget about the key, it no longer exists. But when you wake up that next morning from a deep restful sleep, courtesy of your extremely comfortable new mattress, and he carefully undoes your restraints you realize that won’t be the case. He walks away from you, already showered, dressed and ready for the day.
When he turns and realizes you haven’t followed him towards the bathroom for your shower he speaks. “Are you going to get up or lay in bed all day?” He asks like you have a choice. “For what? To take a shower just so I can come back and get re-tied down? Or are you just coaxing me into getting up so you can move me to a proper cell?”
“You’re only a prisoner in your mind. Now come on or our breakfast is gonna get cold.” Yeah fucking right, you think. He turns away once more and you exclaim your retort to his back. “The restraints I sleep in beg to differ!”
He doesn’t turn back in your direction, just calls back at you from over his shoulder. “Those restraints keep you from slitting my throat in the middle of the night. Something I’m sure you’ve fantasized about more than once.” He’s not wrong. “When you can show me you can be trusted, maybe I’ll give you a little more free will.”
“You know the last time I checked, people who are living of their own free will get to come and go as they please. I try to take one little walk in the woods and I wake up tied to a table. Is that all in my mind too?”
“We both know ‘a little walk in the woods’ isn’t all you had in mind and besides, for someone who considers themselves a prisoner you sure do a lot of complaining about your freedoms. Tell me, have they started furnishing the cells back at Rainbow with queen sized beds these days?” He counters.
“No, but at least we believe in taking prisoners instead of just cutting down every adversary we come across with no discretion, that’s more than you can say.”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He challenges.
“Yeah, and why is that, Deimos?” You challenge back arms crossed over your chest.
He finally turns back to you. “Because it’s about time Rainbow learned a lesson about meddling in things that are none of its business. Because you came out here to me, sought me out with ill intent and you couldn’t finish the job, none of you could. You were out-maneuvered, unprepared and arrogant and you had no idea what you were dealing with.” He takes a step forward before continuing, bridging the distance between you.
“I left you still breathing for information, to find out what you knew and to try and get a handle on who I’ve let get too close.” There’s a pause as he closes the last of the gap, standing before you and encompassing all of your attention as you stare up at him raptly.
“And I kept you because I like you.” He leans down close. Calm, cool and collected, showing you even unrestrained he harbors no fear for you and you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “And because I can.”
You don’t have a response for that and are ultimately left staring after him as he stands back up straight and tall and walks away once again, knowing he’s won the little mental battle of wills.
When you’re too stunned to move, still processing the information he grows impatient. “The hose is always an option, sugar cane. The choice is yours.” You scowl but get up off the bed and push past him towards the bathroom.
You undress and he’s way more attentive than he was the first time, eyes running over you with a scrutiny that’s not purely for security purposes. He reaches out with a glove as you spin around to head for the shower and it brushes against the exposed skin of your ribs, making you pull away and sneer like a cat being rubbed on its belly by unfamiliar fingers.
“Easy. I just wanna see how you’re mending.”
“Yeah? Well you can look with your eyeballs, not your hands.” You say this but don’t pull away any further. He doesn’t press it and removes his hand, apparently satisfied with the progress of the healing process.
Showered and ready for the day, redressed in the jumpsuit that had been your downfall you follow him towards the mess hall but instead of carrying right on through the huge double doors he heads in the direction of his office, something that puzzles you. When you get there your breakfast is already set up, one for each of you on his desk.
“Working through breakfast? Did you really have that much pile up while you were gone?” You ask, genuinely curious.
“No, you made sure of that, sweetheart. But I didn’t think your breakfast would go down so well while being glared down by a few hundred sets of angry eyes. You're not exactly popular at the moment.”
Your mouth opened for a retort but you thought better of it and just nodded in understanding before sitting down across from him. You both dig in unceremoniously and you watch from across the desk while he checks his emails while he eats, stealing little glances up at him between bites.
You hadn’t really thought much of it the first time, you’d been more occupied on your escape at that point to care about much else. But the desk setting is a bit more intimate than you’d been the first time around, closer than you’d originally been to him and with nothing else to distract you it was impossible not to stare.
He must notice you noticing him. “Something wrong?”
He asks after pulling the mask away from his face just enough to get the food to his mouth but not enough for you to catch a glimpse of him underneath.
“Why do you do that?” He swallows and then answers your question with another question. “Do what?”
You motion to him with your fork. “Eat like that? Why not take the mask off?” You ask the question innocently but there’s depths to your inquisitions, an unmistakable curiosity to know just what lies behind the hard shell.
“Don’t want to.” He leaves it at that but you pursue at your own peril.
“But why?” He cocks his head to the side. Like examining a particularly interesting bug that’s crawled over his foot, you have his full attention now.
“Why do you wanna know, sugar cane? Are you curious about what I look like?” And you can feel his eyes boring into you, he’s stopped looking over at his computer and he’s stopped eating and now so have you as you feel like somehow the tables have turned without you even really noticing and your face is heating.
“I- I don’t know. No.. it’s just.. weird is all.” And that’s all you can muster up in response. Too uncomfortable with the insinuations of the reasons behind your question and he knows but lets you drop it. You both finish your breakfast and it humors him to see you’ve stopped sneaking little looks at him, content just to eat almost with your head down, lost in thought and a bit embarrassed at being seen through so easily.
You go to gather up the trash and trays when he stops you. “Leave it, I’ve got something I want to show you.”
He gets up and you follow after him. He was right for having you eat in his office, every single person you pass in the halls as you make your way to wherever he’s taking you looks at you with loathing. It’s hard to believe short and stocky could have any fans with how much of an asshole he was to you but he must have some kind of winning charm amongst the troops because they all look ready to jump you if not for your all mighty keeper.
You stick close to him and even after you pass through the big double doors exiting the building and pushing out into the open air it still reeks of hate. But he seems not to notice, you’re sure he does notice but he doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. You’re his and they’ll do well to remember that, no matter what attorcites you commit.
“Do you like dogs?” He asks and you are blindsided by the question and all its simplicity, so much so you ask him to repeat himself. “Dogs?”
“Yeah, dogs.” You’re still confused but you answer it, it’s an easy enough question. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve been around dogs all my life. My daddy raised hunting dogs, bred ‘em, raised ‘em. Trained ‘em up from young pups, made them into disciplined hunting machines. Blue ticks mostly, but some hounds and setters as well. They’re called man’s best friend for a reason. A well trained dog can sometimes make a better companion than some men. Fiercely driven, highly motivated, loyal to a fault.”
He’s taking you over to the east side of the compound, you’d never been out this way but you’re less concerned with your surroundings than him opening up to you for once. You wonder why he is.
“He instilled his love for canines into me. So much so I took a lot of their characteristics into consideration to help develop my ability. I studied them closely, used their natural born instincts to help advance my own skills. They give to me just as much as I give to them.”
He speaks like he owns them, but you’ve never heard so much as a bark. You can’t imagine being here for all this time and having yet to see or even hear one. It’s when he stops in front of a huge building and opens up the heavy metal doors that you find out why. The noise leaps out at you as soon as the door is cracked.
It’s more than barks, it’s whines and whimpers and even a few bays but they’re not hurt or upset, in fact quite the opposite. You step past him into the building, unlike outside it’s cool and comfortable and he closes the doors behind you before continuing on through the facility.
There are pins set up down either side of the walkway and each pin is a ten by ten foot fenced-in square that houses a single dog. Each pin has a wooden dog house standing in the far corner but none of them are in use, instead each dog is pressed up against the front of the chain link cage as close as they can get, their tails a flurry of wags.
He stops at each cage, stooping down and talking to each in turn while they lap at his gloves through the links in the chain and the others further down the line wait in almost indignant anticipation.
There must be a dozen in all, dogs of a few different breeds and in a whole array of different coats waiting, albeit a bit impatiently for master to come around, it’s clear they’d missed him.
“They’re good dogs. Impossible to keep them quiet though, so I had the place sound proofed. It’s not ideal to keep them here now that we’ve been discovered but they’re like my children and I can’t part with them. It’d end me if anything happened to them.”
You drop down on a knee in front of a cage and the dog inside, what appears to be a blue tick coon hound with a white and brindle coat eases up to the front of the cage, all nose as it sniffs out your scent and must approve of what it smells as it cautiously but hopefully pushes against the cage as you reach out to stroke its fur.
“That’s Clover. Sweet girl, very driven that one but somewhat lacking in discipline and attention span.” She pushes against the cage broadside, rubbing her whole body against it as you give her pettings. “Well hi, hi, hi Clover girl! What a sweet baby!” She rolls over against the chain, dropping onto her back and exposing her belly, which you try your best to reach through the chain with your fingers.
“She likes you.” You smile as your fingers brush over her soft undercoat. “The feelings mutual.” He can’t help but feel that ache gnawing at his heart watching you play with the dogs, he’d expected a positive response but he didn’t expect it to affect him so much seeing you play with them. He tries to recompose himself and continue on.
“Dogs can be a useful asset or they can be a detriment, it’s all about how you work with them. They’re wild in nature, they need release and freedom, a chance to stretch their legs and quell the urges of their instincts. People can be the same way.”
And you don’t like the look he’s giving you, the way his gaze lingers on you from your peripheral. “Where are you going with this, Deimos?” You ask but don’t stop your loving administrations. “I want you to help me with my ability.”
You stop petting Clover and pull your hand away from the fence, prompting her to roll back over and cock her head. “And why would I do that?”
“As an opportunity to stretch your legs. Run wild, not feel so much like a prisoner.” It takes you less than two seconds to shoot him down. “No.”
“Are you sure? Think about it.” He prods. “I don’t need to. No.”
“Come outside with me. It’s too loud in here for a conversation.” You don’t necessarily want to continue this talk, you certainly don’t want to help him train in any way shape or form. He’s a terrorist, the literal direct enemy. But you can’t exactly refuse so you stand and follow him out of the kennel and into the afternoon light. He closes the door behind you and turns to you, clearly avid about making this happen somehow.
“Look, I’ll make a deal with you. All I want you to do is run for the hills, if you can escape me then you’ve earned your freedom, I won’t pursue you any longer.” And he leaves it hanging out in the open just like that.
“And get shocked again? No, not with this thing on my neck. I’ll pass.” He slips a hand into the pocket of his tac pants and pulls out a slim remote, with the singular press of a button the collar of your jumpsuit beeps. It’s hard to believe it’s really that simple. “Just like that?”
“Just like that, sweetheart.” You’re still not exactly comfortable with his little nicknames for you and you’re still wary of the whole thing.
“You want me to run away? Like to try to get away again?” He nods.
“I don’t think I really need to remind you where that got me last time, do I?”
“That was different.” Your brows furrow. “How?”
“You’re supervised this time.”
“Oh really? And what makes you think I’ll believe anything you say? I could get away and you’d probably still catch up to me and bring me back anyway. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
He leans back against the outer wall of the building, another one of the many moments he’s glad for the mask, because there’s a smug smirk resting on his lips as he knows he’s got you, he knows all you need now is a little push to your ego.
“Just to be clear you won’t escape, trust me on that but you can sure as hell try. Besides, have I ever gone back on my word before? I promised if you took that punishment like a good girl I’d find opportunities for you to stretch your legs. This is it, now do you want it or not?”
You consider your options for a moment, there aren’t many and you really don’t want to go back inside and sit on your ass for the rest of the day. “Just run?”
His smirk widens and you can hear it in his voice this time around. “Just run, sugar cane. I’ll give you a thirty second head start. You’ll need it.”
You take one last look over your shoulder towards the wood line before turning back to him. “When do we start?”
His answer is the count. “1.. 2.. 3..”
You can hardly believe what you’re doing as you do it but you take off for the woods, nary a look back over your shoulder once you do, you don’t really know where you’re going, the town was north and this is east but if you can just get away apparently it won’t really matter. You’re hesitant, you heard the beep in the collar of your jumpsuit but your nervous system still remembers the shock it suffered not all too long ago and isn't exactly eager for a second dose.
You drop off the other side of a big hill, zigzagging through brush and around the base of huge pines, your feet slipping through the pine duff at a hurried speed as the breeze pushes through your hair. It does feel good, you have to admit. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt freedom quite like this, the escape felt different somehow. Scared, rushed. Now you just feel a bit exalted.
You hear it and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prick up to points. The whooshing sound of displaced air, this time far easier to spot in the daytime than in the dead of night. His deathMARK. You want to bolt but your feet hold you back, you can only imagine you’re nearing that line. It’s then that he crests the hill behind you and instead of evading him you skid to a stop and so does he. You both stand opposite of each other, catching your breath.
“You’re not trying.” You can’t stand how he just seems to see everything so plainly. “Yes I am.” You lie.
“No. You’re not. Why?” It’s really no use, lying to him, he just sees right through it. “I wasn’t meaning not to. It’s just.. the line.” He’s impressed that after only encountering it once you could possibly know for certain where the line was buried. “I told you your collar is off. You had my word.”
You don’t drop his gaze, your eyes burning into the black panes of his mask, he sighs. “Come here.” He walks up to the line buried in the ground and steps past it before turning around and extending his hand to you. “It’s off, you have my word.” He says it again and the conviction in his voice is hard to not believe.
You walk up to the edge, the point of no return and after a moment's hesitation, you cross it. Your body prepares for the debilitating shock but it never comes and you look up at him, a meek expression on your face, one he’d never seen. “You can trust me.” He doesn’t justify it with an explanation or embellish it, just states it and leaves it at that.
“Now go again, and try to give me a run for my money this time.” You smile, it’s transient, there and then gone. You can’t help it and you hoped he hadn’t caught it, but he did and it’s all he thinks about for the whole thirty seconds of your head start.
Free of all inhibitions you dash through the woods, taking off in a straight line as quickly as you can. It takes longer before you hear the whoosh of the drone this time around. You push yourself faster, arms pumping as you try to out run it. You jump over a fallen log and skirt a huge rock before you come upon fairly flat ground and chance a look over your shoulder. He’s there, trailing you about forty feet back and you feel a dagger of panic shoot through your heart.
You take off again, head down, eyes narrowed as you try to out run him but you can hear his footfalls against the forest floor and he’s gaining. You redirect, shifting directions quickly in an attempt to outmaneuver him.
You bolt around an ancient oak and weave your way between a cluster of young pines but just when you think you’ve got him you feel his arms encircle your waist as he brings you to the ground like a lion pouncing on a gazelle. You instinctively bring your arms up beneath you to cushion the fall as he lands on top of you, his body covering your legs.
You both lie there panting, he can feel your heartbeat through the palms of his gloves at the small of your back and this whole thing might’ve been a mistake because he can feel himself growing half hard just chasing you down.
“Fuck me, how are you so fast?” He just laughs, a hearty genuine sound that rumbles through you and makes a heat flare in your cheeks that’s got nothing to do with running. “Secrets, sugar cane. Gonna try again?”
“You bet your ass I’m trying again.” His response is to smack yours, savoring the little squeal of protest it produces from you as you scramble to get out from underneath him. He pushes up off of you, sitting back with his arms behind him as he looks up at you rise up from the dirt.
You turn and run and he watches after you as he begins the count anew. You have a plan this time, it’s clear there’s no outrunning him, he’s too quick but maybe you can hide. You keep count in your head, if he lets the drone loose before you found your spot then there was no point in hiding at all he’d just catch you again. About twenty seconds into the count in your head—and you hoped to god he kept his count by the Mississippi rule, you found what you were looking for.
A massive oak tree uprooted many, many, years ago, and taking a pit mound with it, had left a divot in the earth and some animal, a lone fox perhaps, had dug it out for a den. There was no time for debate, you expected to hear the whir of the drone at any moment so quickly you crawled into the dugout space and pressed yourself against the exposed roots of the tree.
If the drone had thermal capabilities the spot was useless but if not it’d more than likely fly right by without spotting you. The latter turned out to be true as moments later you heard it whiz by, its flight undisturbed as it scanned the forest further out, it wasn’t much later you began to hear him, following close behind.
This was your opportunity. You waited for him to pass and when you couldn’t hear him any longer you climbed out of the earth and headed north. You made great time, full on sprinting as you tore through the forest. There was no use in trying to sneak, he’d realize soon enough that something was up and change directions.
But soon you heard the distant whir of the blades again, faint but nearing. You had a decision to make, hide again or try and out run it. The forest before you was bare, the brush light and the trees still standing to your dismay. You thought about turning back for the compound, it’d be the last place he’d expect you to head for but before you could you heard the drone overhead. It had found you and without much choice you took off north once again.
You knew it was your last chance for freedom so you barreled forth on legs already tired and worn. You had just made it into a small clearing when he pounced on you, totally sideswiping your body and you tumbled into the circle of pine straw and fallen oak shed rolling over top of each other until you came to a stop straddling him.
You lay there, a mass of panting limbs and it’s not until he’s relatively caught his breath that he realizes you're above him. He’s wary, it’s the unfamiliar cat feeling all over again, except this time the feline has climbed into his lap and he’s not sure whether you’ll simply claw his eyes out or sit and make biscuits. He gets his answer when your hips roll down over him, just an innocent shift of position as you try to readjust that turns into an inadvertent grind against the firm plane of his abdomen. You let out a groan you can’t contain in sinful bliss at the movement and it makes his lips press thin behind his mask, a groan of his own just barely stifled in his throat.
The sensation is exquisite, having been left so abruptly wanting after your recapture and the subsequent consequences you can’t help yourself. But you stop when your brain catches up to your nerve endings and you realize what you’re doing. You go to rise up off of him, embarrassed and a bit appalled at yourself when his hands snap to your hips and you both freeze.
You’re at a standstill, unsure what comes next and he makes the first move, pulling you back by your hips until you’ve moved off of his stomach and yanked you down over his hips, the prominent bulge in his tac pants unmistakable as you slide over it, both of your breaths hitching at the delicious friction.
What comes next is an exchange, a silent pivotal moment communicated solely through subtle touches fueled by mutual desire. It’s hesitant but quick, meaningful but rushed and what it comes to is you rising up off of him to pry at your clothes. It takes him no time to free himself from his confines and when he looks up and you’re still struggling with the god forsaken jumpsuit he motions you back to him. “Let me help.”
You stoop down but as he pulls a wicked looking blade from its sheath on his belt you instinctively pull away only for him to hold you fast. “Stay still and trust.”
He waits as you calm and still for him before he expertly slices a slit in the crotch of your suit. You give him an exasperated look and it makes him chuckle. “It was taking too long, I’ll have them make you a new one.” With the deed done there’s no use in arguing with him so instead you mount him again, grinding against him once more. Your fingers find purchase against him as fists, one balling up in the fabric of his cape, the other looping around the strap of his vest as the skin to skin contact has you keening against him.
He’s had enough teasing and rifles the length of him through the slick lips of your sex, collecting your wetness on the tip and lining himself up before you can change your mind. You have no such second guesses as you drop down onto his length in fact there isn’t much thought going on at all, just primal need. You keep your grip on him as you begin to fuck yourself.
He lets you use him, it’s the first contact of any kind you’ve initiated and he’ll let it run its course, reaping the benefits. His hands never leave your hips as his head drops back, trading the view of where you’re joined for one concentrated on your face and all your varying expressions. Watching your mouth part slightly as you take what was so cruelly denied. You pick up speed, eyes squeezing shut as your vision blurs around the edges, your head tipping back skyward as you ride him for all he’s worth.
His hands explore you, reaching up to cup a supple breast and he wishes to god he’d either had the patience to let you strip or had just cut the whole damn thing off you because you’re still wearing too many god damn clothes for his liking. He wants nothing more than to plant his boots in the dirt and lift you up by the hips, drive into you from below until your eyes roll back but he knows you need this. If you’re to let go of your hesitancy it’s best to be done on your terms. That doesn't mean once you’ve had your fill it’d be over, but he’s a patient man.
The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees is joined in harmony by your soft pleasured sighs and he’s never heard a more beautiful song. Your eyes open and you know what you’re doing is wrong. You glance down, the mere sight of him beneath you makes the alarm bells ring in your head but it also makes you that much wetter, knowing it’s him you’re keening for. It’s wrong but that doesn’t ease the ecstasy of it from coursing through your veins, collecting in a pit of pleasure that pools deep in your belly.
The last of your resolve makes your hips momentarily falter. “Uh uh. Don’t you dare stop.” You go to turn your head from him when one gloved hand releases the grip on your hip to lift up and grab your chin so you’re unable. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Your cheeks heat but you obey, your eyes flitting to the dark lenses of his mask. “‘Atta girl. That’s it, just like that.” As the honeyed poison he speaks begins to ferment you, the simple instinct driven part of your brain takes over, melting at the praise of a proven superior.
You moan at his words and he feels their effects as you tighten around him. “Does it feel good, sugar cane? Hmm?” You’re beyond words, knowing if you tried to speak all the would come out would be unintelligible babbles so you just nod your head frantically, it’s the best you can do.
He keeps a grip on your chin, keeping you trained on him as his other hand palms the swell of your hip, guiding you back into a steady rhythm, one that has you squeezing down around him and a low moan bubbling up in your chest and it’s clear you’re not going to last very long. Your fists tighten into white knuckled grips as your hips cant against his, speeding up as your climax draws near. He can feel you getting closer, his own hips bucking up to greet yours as you slam down onto him with each thrust.
“Come on sugar cane. Let me feel you come for me. Take what you need.” Your pleasure reaches a head, your walls spasming around him as you cry out your pleasure to the canopies above. Your face at this moment is a portrait of desire and he burns the image of it into his mind's eye, committing it to memory as you ride it out above him.
Just as you stop shaking, not even giving you time to recover he pulls out and deftly flips you, pushing you down on your stomach and pushing your knees up beneath you. With your ass raised up high and the length of your right forearm the only thing keeping your cheek from pressing into the dirt he resheaths himself inside you. You howl at the intensity of it, barely sliding off from the hill of your orgasm before he begins the hurried ascent to the next one.
“Deimos!” He growls above you, the sound of his name on your lips only spurring him on. He pulls your hips back into his, relishing his gain of control and chasing the pull of his own release. Your hands clench and unclench against the earth, scratching through the duff and leaves until the rich topsoil cakes under your nails. It’s the last thing on your mind as he fucks you senseless in the midst of the forest.
He knows he’s close, can feel his balls beginning to tighten as they slap against your clit with each thrust. He can tell you’re faring about as well as you push back into him, mewls reaching a heightened pitch as you barrel towards your second release and your lips begin to loosen as you careen towards the edge.
“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please!” You begging him for release is all it takes, his last few thrusts quick and sloppy as he feels you clench around him for a second time as he empties himself inside of you. His hips jut up against yours, pushing in as far as he can go and stilling against you there. Both of you breathing in heavy tandem.
After several moments he pulls out of you unceremoniously and puts himself away before standing. You look up to see him, hand outstretched to help you up off the ground. You take it, and now that the heated pleasure has subsided the wake of regret rises to take its place and you find it hard to look him in the face. He must have trouble finding the right words to say, keenly aware that you’re a bit fragile at the moment and worried that the wrong words could have destructive results so the walk back towards base is a quiet one.
He leads you back to the compound and shuttles you into the kennel while he goes and finds you a change of clothes. Before he leaves he finds it in him to speak. “While I’m gone will you do me a favor?” It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting him to say but it felt like a better option than discussing things between you. “Sure, what is it?”
“Can you feed them for me? There’s a bin at the back with their food and a scoop, the bowls are on a little table next to it. Two scoops for each.” You look towards the back and spot the bin before turning back to him.
“Yeah, sure.” He nods and leaves and you make your way through the aisle and toward the back of the building. Everything is as he said and after separating the bowls out and dishing two scoops of food into each you start at the back and work towards the front. The dogs are well trained and back away from the door while you enter. Sitting patiently as their tails give away their true excitement, thumping against the green AstroTurf floor in an unmeasured staccato.
You set the bowls down and step away before each dog rises and goes to eat. Careful to latch each door shut behind you, you make quick work of it and soon enough you’re setting the last bowl down in Clover’s pin. Unlike the other dogs she noses around your legs while you place her bowl on the floor and goes right to eating as soon as it’s lowered enough for her snout to reach. You can’t help but rub her sides while she digs in and you don’t even notice his return until he clears his throat outside her door.
“All done.” You say as you step through and latch it tight behind you. He hands you your clothes, another old set of fatigues instead of a new jumpsuit and points you in the direction of the bathroom so you can change. You can’t shake the feeling there’s been some kind of shift between you and this is only proven further as you head for the bathroom and he doesn’t follow after you. You shut the door and turn on the tap, splashing water up on your face and staring up at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t know what this means, afraid to think about what kind of line you’ve crossed without even really knowing it but something is different.
When you’d washed up and changed you found him again and you both left the kennel, completely different people than when you’d entered.
