Take It Out On Me (Peter Strahm x Reader) - Part 1
THIS POST IS LONGGGGGGGGGGG OVERDUE OH MY GOD. this has been sitting in my docs (and on my ao3) for a couple weeks now because i was like worried to post it on here??? but since i've been working on the second part i thought maybe i should... just bite the bullet... and post it... LMFAOAOAO ok im sorry this might be the craziest thing i've posted on here
contains: 18+ content (minors dni), I DO NOT KNOW HOW INTERROGATIONS WORK, a freaky little power dynamic moment, spanking, manhandling, teasing, hair-pulling, exhibitionism, and perhaps... a gun... also reader is afab but no pronouns are used so that's entirely up to interpretation
word count: 5,082
“I'm not going to tell you again, shit is going to hit the fan. You have one job,” special agent Peter Strahm said through clenched teeth. His cuffed sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms. His jacket was resting on the table in front of you, tie as messed up as his once pristine hair. You were getting on his nerves. He slammed a fist down on the table. You jerked back. “Tell me what you know about John Kramer.”
“I told you, Special Agent,” you responded snarkily, dragging out your words like a cigarette. “I don't know shit!” You enunciated every syllable and he took it like a punch to the chest. Strahm wasn't buying it. You’d tried to insist that you were telling the truth but he wouldn’t listen. You’d met John once, outside of a Subway. You’d dropped a glob of mayonnaise on your shirt, whining under your breath about how you didn’t have a napkin and how embarrassing it would be walking back in covered in mayonnaise. He said some weird, ominous bullshit – you barely retained any of it – and gave you a napkin before slinking into the shadows. You had no idea who he was at the time. You only found out after his face was plastered on every TV and newspaper and magazine you could find. You weren’t sure how anyone found out about your little interaction, either. Especially not the FBI… Yet here you were, sitting on a hard chair in the middle of a cold interrogation room, being yelled at by an agent who was convinced you were involved, and who you were convinced was on coke.
“You wouldn’t have been brought here if that was the case.” He was practically growling. You were confused. You’d been going about your daily business before all of this. How the fuck could you be considered a suspect?
“What more do you want me to tell you?” You sneered at him. “I met the dude once. He said some weird shit and disappeared and that was that!”
Strahm’s eyebrows twitched. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his composure. You’d been saying the same thing over and over and over again. You were yet to crack and tell him exactly what John had said to you. To be fair, you still didn’t remember, but he didn’t care. Strahm was determined to keep you there until you “caved”.
“What? What did he say?”
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t remember for you to let me go home?”
Strahm pressed his thumbs against his temples. He’d been pacing the room in a state of disarray for god knew how long. You were still sitting in your chair, feet crossed between its legs, fingers tapping on the table. He took a deep breath before grabbing the chair across from you and forcing himself to sit down.
“Listen, I can do this all day.” His voice dropped to a whisper – an almost sultry one. His blue eyes stared into yours so deeply it felt like he was physically picking your brain apart. You shuddered. “Go through it one more time. And please, just try to think for once. Ok?”
You huffed.
“Fine.”
“Good. Start talking.”
“It was a few months ago, right?” You sighed, rehashing the story for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’d just got out of work-”
“And you worked where?”
“It was like, a shitty department store that closed a few years back. Probably a JCPenney’s but they all blend together.”
“Keep going.”
You weren’t sure what was going to happen first; you finally remembering or Strahm losing his shit. He’d already started. When you weren’t speaking, your mind was wandering to the woman you’d talked to before him. His partner, Perez. She was nice. She was polite. She didn’t put a gun to her mouth over your inability to remember what an old fart had said to you months ago.
“It was around 9:30 and I was hungry, so I decided to go to the Subway down the street. So I walked-”
“Why did you walk?”
You took a sharp breath. Was he seriously just going to keep interrupting you every five seconds?
“It was only a 10 minute walk from the store and it was like, 70 degrees out? I dunno, I just remember the weather being really nice and I wanted some fresh air.”
Strahm didn’t prompt you to continue. He just stared at you. His eyes felt like knives, sharp against your skin. You met them, looking almost defeated, but the look he gave you rekindled your spirit. It was weird. You’d been trying to avoid them as much as possible, but now that you were looking, they were beautiful. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in. You shook yourself out of your thoughts, swallowing hard before finding your words.
“There was nobody outside when I got there. The only car was a Honda civic that belonged to the chick working. I think her name was Francine or something like that. Since I was-”
“No sign of John? Just that one car?”
“Fuck, do you want me to tell you my order, too?” You let out an exasperated sigh. “No, there was no sign of anyone else besides me and the girl behind the counter.”
Strahm ran his tongue over his teeth.
“Francine was really nice, we made some small talk….” Your voice faded out. “Did you want me to tell you my order?”
“Is that essential information?”
“Maybe I summoned John when I ordered my BMT with mayonnaise?” You cracked a smile. You tried to cover your laugh but it was far too late. Strahm’s eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep breath in.
“Stand up.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft.
“Huh?”
“Stand. Up.” There was the brashness you’d come to expect in the past hour you’d spent with him. You listened, standing behind your chair and pushing it towards the table. Strahm rose – it was now that you realized how tall he actually was – and pushed his chair to the side. In an unpredictably fast movement, he threw the table to the side and backed you up against the wall, hands pinning your body to it. You looked up, lips parted.
“I’m getting tired of your fucking attitude,” he snarled.
A harsh wave of warmth rushed through your body like a dam breaking. You could feel a familiar wetness pooling in your underwear and you weren’t quite sure how far he was willing to go with this. You knew very well there could be people watching through the glass. Hell, there were cameras everywhere. It was a risky game that you’d started but you were determined to see it to the end.
“Oh, yeah?” You smirked, staring up at him with an intensity that rivaled his own. “Why don’t you… Oh, I dunno… do something about it?” Your finger met a button on his chest, slowly dragging it down until it caressed the hem of his dress pants. Strahm’s breath hitched.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.”
Your smirk faded but your eyes stayed glued on his. Your irritated glare faded into one of distinct, prominent neediness, and you were trying your hardest not to let it show. You wanted the upper hand; unfortunately for you, his whole job was picking people apart. Strahm moved one of his hands, hovering it over your waist. The tips of his fingers threatened your side but as you tried to lean into it, he ripped it away like a bandaid.
“Sit.”
You sighed, dipping under his other arm, intentionally brushing your body against him as you grabbed the chair you’d been sitting in. The table was on the other side of the room, sitting next to the two-way mirror. Your eyes traveled from Strahm to the table to the floor. A few long, silent minutes passed before you finally forced yourself to speak.
“Did you want me to continue?”
The response you received was… more silence. You bit the inside of your cheek waiting for something, anything. The last thing you expected was the cold metal of a gun pressed to your temple. Your eyes finally tore away from the floor, immediately finding Strahm’s. He dragged the gun down the side of your face. It scraped against your cheek before he pressed it to your lips.
“Open.”
Your lips parted, taking the barrel into your mouth.
“Suck it.”
You hesitated for a second, trying to figure out if he was being serious. You were met with a condescending nod. Slowly, you swirled your tongue around the barrel, forcing yourself into a rhythm. Your cheeks hollowed as you stared at the agent for approval but his face didn’t move a muscle. It stayed still with the same unshakable anger as before. He blinked, that was it. You tried to figure out what he was thinking but it was impossible. There were no giveaways. Your eyes trailed down his figure as you tried to get a glance at his crotch but before you could, Strahm’s cold fingers were forcing your chin upwards, putting your goal out of sight.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was calm and collected for the first time that day.
You let out a muffled noise of approval that you could only hope he understood.
“Good.”
He pulled the gun out of your mouth, careful not to hurt you. A string of saliva connected your lips to the barrel. You wiped it off, swallowing hard, trying to figure out where your eyes should go. The question was answered for you by the hand that grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. Your eyes found Strahm’s once again. You were starting to get used to them and his babydoll lashes. It was almost comforting.
“Got it out of your system?”
Had you? Hm…
“Not really,” you smiled. However, your voice was notably less witty.
“Too bad.” Strahm pulled his chair over, sitting it across from you. “Keep going.”
“Uhm, ok.” You gulped, licking your lips. “I ordered my sandwich and I was gonna walk it back to my car, but there was like, one of those parking bump things and the stars were out, so I sat on it and started to eat my sandwich.”
Strahm nodded. “And John?”
“I hadn’t noticed him yet. He also didn’t have a car because the parking lot was still mostly empty. I was too focused on the stars and my sandwich but I heard the door open behind me, I guess.” You squirmed in your seat, faltering against Strahm’s glare. How was he acting so casual after that? Fuck. You were getting lost. You had to reel in your train of thought.
“The door opened again after like, a few seconds, and I remember thinking that it was kinda weird. I didn’t really pay any attention to it, though. I think I found the Big Dipper or something in the sky but I dropped a fat glob of mayo on my new shirt cuz, y’know, Francine loaded up my sub with it.”
Strahm’s jaw cocked to the side. The room was painfully silent in between your speaking. You looked towards the glass, trying to see through it, but you knew you couldn’t. You stared back at yourself, watching as you opened your mouth to speak again.
“I was complaining about it and all of a sudden, this old grandpa lookin’ guy with a soul patch came up from behind me. I jumped a little bit and lost a crispy piece of bread crust.” You closed your eyes as you tried to remember what John had said to you. You only remembered bits and pieces – something about life – but it just wasn’t coming to you.
“Hello?” He snapped at you to get your attention. Strahm’s voice was raising again. It felt like hot steam against your flesh. “Anything going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
Your thighs clenched.
“I’m trying to remember, I swear. It was just so fucking weird and cryptic,” you huffed. “He said something about cherishing my life. That’s all I can remember.”
“You’re holding out on me.” Strahm stood up again, standing directly in front of you. His gun was back in his belt, still glistening with your saliva. “What motivation do you have to cover for him?”
“None! He just gave me a napkin.”
“Do you still have the napkin?”
“Why the fuck would I have the napkin?”
Silence, again.
“Ok, you know what? Stand up.”
Obediently, you did as he asked. The corner of his lips quirked up. That was all you needed, just a little bit of positive reinforcement! You stood next to your chair, hand gripping the back. The calmness of his voice was uncomfortable. You were nervous, more nervous than you’d been when you were dragged here. Embarrassingly, you were getting off on it. Strahm got closer and closer until his strong hands gripped your shoulders, turning your body towards the table.
“Walk.”
Your feet were moving before you even processed his words. You only stopped when your hips bumped into the table. Out of reflex, you leaned onto it, halted only by your hands and elbows planted on the surface. You felt exposed but you couldn’t help the way your heart rate quickened. You watched Strahm’s reflection as he stood behind you. He was so close to touching you that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You had half a mind to grind your ass into his crotch but you stayed still, laying in wait. The anticipation built from an anthill into a mountain as you closed your eyes. Your breath shook from your impatience. Goosebumps covered your skin as Strahm’s hands hovered over your body. He shuffled closer. It was the only noise you could hear besides your heart, beating faster than it ever had before. Without touching, Strahm leaned over your body, lips next to your ear.
“If there’s somebody out there, we’re both going to get in big trouble. Is that something you’re willing to risk?”
You couldn’t find the words. You let out a soft whine, eyelids fluttering open. The sight was vulgar, tastefully so. Sexually driven without a single article of clothing removed. You were sure there was going to be a stain on your underwear from the sheer gravity of arousal coursing through your veins like a drug.
Strahm looked like he was hesitating at the premise of slapping your ass. His hand, like the rest of his body, hovered over it. You weren’t sure what kind of game he was trying to get at. Were you so far under his skin that he didn’t feel the need to touch you? Your body ached for it. Every inch of your flesh was screaming for his embrace. Part of you wanted to chock it up to how cold the interrogation room was but you knew deep down that wasn’t it. Before, you’d thought about throwing on his jacket once his back was turned, but that wouldn’t be an issue now. As though he’d finally caved to his own will, Strahm grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling it back and forcing you to look at him.
“Use your words.”
“What do you want me to say?” You stuttered. Pathetic.
“We can do this one of two ways, capiche?” His grip tightened and you let out a whine through your teeth. “Either you tell me what John said, or I fuck it out of you.”
“Is that even allowed?”
“You and that fucking mouth,” he scowled, releasing his grip on your hair. “Give me an answer.”
Finally, Strahm leaned into you, body flush against yours. You could feel the outline of his cock against your ass. His arms were pinned next to your head, front of his thighs against the backs of yours. The sight was erotic on its own but the feeling was too much. You were deprived. You were hungry. You needed this.
“Fuck me.”
“Finally something I can use.”
Strahm made quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and letting them drop around your ankles. His fingertips weren’t as cold as you remembered. His grip, however, was punishing. One hand dug into the fat of your thigh, the other pressed so horribly lightly against your clit you’d rather him not touch it at all. The layer of fabric between his slender fingers and your swollen sex was cruel on its own but this was a whole new degree of mean. Your legs shook and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You stared at yourself like you were a painting on a wall. It was an admirable sight, that you’d agree, but unfortunately, this was real life, and Strahm was an unmovable object.
“You’re going to be good for me, right?”
“Uh huh.” You swallowed.
“The only words I want to hear out of that pretty mouth is a confession.”
“Uh huh.”
Strahm lowered himself towards your ear once more. This time, his lips brushed against it before he whispered.
“You say stop, I stop. Got it?”
You nodded.
“Words. I need to hear them.”
“Yes sir.”
“Good.”
He stood back up. You stared at his reflection, awestruck as his fingers worked hastily at his belt. It hung down enough to stay out of the way. He paused for a moment before pulling out his gun and putting it on the table. Your gaze shifted towards it. It stared at you, a constant reminded of how much power he had over you. Beneath him, you were stuck, defenseless and on display to anyone who decided to check how your interrogation was going. The thought alone was enough to fuel your carnal desires. Your eyes found Strahm in the mirror again, hardened cock finally out of his boxers. He pumped it slowly, eyes closed, as if he was trying to hold himself back. It was kind of cute how desperate he was. His breaths were quick and one of his hands was gripping so hard onto the side of the table it was turning white. As much as you wanted to stop and enjoy the view, your cunt was aching with desperation and Strahm taking his sweet ass time was a little frustrating. You cleared your throat to get his attention.
“Be patient,” he scowled. You wondered if he’d ever known a moment of happiness in his life. You, on the other hand, were over the moon. Strahm’s cock pressed against the wet spot on your underwear, hips slowly jerking back. He was playing some kind of game with you, you were sure of it. Or maybe he was questioning his decision to take things this far? You were hoping he wasn’t going to change his mind. In that minute, you didn’t care about your own dignity; you cared about getting fucked. And as if he were reading your mind, he finally made a move.
Strahm let go of the table and pulled your underwear down. They stopped around your knees and neither of you could care about pulling them further. He lined himself up with your entrance and stilled again. Was he trying to tease you? Or was he trying to tease himself? You were getting more desperate by the second but you resisted the urge to whine about it, even if the thought of him being mean to you turned you on even more. His fingers slipped back towards your clit, rubbing slow, meticulous circles against it. It was a strange contrast to how aggressive he’d been with you. When his tip finally entered you, he hissed through his teeth. You shuddered in anticipation, fingertips dragging against the table.
“Remember what I said,” he whispered, voice gravelly. “Not a peep unless it’s a confession.”
“Yes sir.”
Strahm bottomed out in you and you had to hold your breath to keep quiet. He filled you perfectly. You watched through the mirror as his head rolled back. He was trying to keep his composure; you wanted him to take his anger out on you. He gave you a moment to adjust before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back inside. A soft hum came from your mouth but shockingly, he didn’t say anything about it. He did, however, take it as a sign to continue, and you were happy he did. He started out slow, just as he had before, but the longer he took it, the more desperate you both got. Within seconds, his pace had stabilized at one that was brutally fast and hard enough to cause the table to squeak beneath you. You’d done such a good job at keeping quiet until that point. The pleasure was building up inside of you and it was getting too hard to contain.
“Oh, fuck,” you finally choked out. You hadn’t even realized you said anything until Strahm’s body stilled, tip buried as deep inside of you as it could fit. His face got dangerously close to yours, coffee-scented breath warm against your cheek.
“What did I tell you about speaking?”
“I’m sorry,” you whined, steadying your breathing. “It feels too good, I can’t-”
“Aww, you can’t? Can’t what?”
Your eyes found his, pathetically half-lidded.
“Cat got your tongue? You were so vocal, what happened?” He smirked. Part of you wanted to wipe the cocky look off of his face, but the other part of you was fixated on how beautiful he was. You wanted so badly to cum around his cock that your brain felt fried. It was a mixture of expletives and none of them formed real sentences. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to feel his lips moving against yours. You wanted him to pin your hands behind your back and keep you underneath him like an object. You wanted him to tear you apart.
“I can’t be quiet.” You were finally able to form a sentence that made sense. Strahm looked almost proud.
“You have to try.” His voice was softer, warmer than before, but it still had an edge to it. It was punishing. It was delicious. But it wasn’t nearly as delicious as the hand that pulled back, landing on your asscheek in a slap so loud it echoed throughout the interrogation room. You whimpered as the pain reverberated through your body in waves.
“That was better. You’re gonna do better for me, yeah? Gonna keep your mouth shut?”
You nodded your head with a vigor. He assumed you’d learned your lesson; you were plotting for another opportunity to get him to spank you. He finally continued his assault on your insides, pulling his hips back and pulling your ass to meet them.
You tried to wrack your brain for the night you met John – it was the least you could do. For as sexy as Strahm was when he was angry, you really didn’t want him to yell at you again. With a hand clamped over your mouth and your eyes closed tightly, you thought back to the night, fixating on the words that came out of his mouth. Not that you wanted to think about that guy when you were actively getting the best dick of your life… But you had to.
Cherish your life, he said. You could hear his voice echoing in your brain. You watched him hand you the napkin, and you watched yourself look down and wipe the mayonnaise off your shirt. Minor setbacks can lead people to do violent things. Are you a violent person?
It clicked.
You weren’t sure fucking how, but you finally remembered what he’d said to you. Your hand left your mouth, moving immediately to grip the edge of the table. Strahm’s hands tightly around your waist and as your eyes cracked open, you were once again face-to-face with the barrel of his handgun.
“Strahm,” you whined, breathless. His nails dug into your skin like a warning. “Cherish your life.”
His pace slowed as he processed your words but it didn’t stay like that for long. He was quick to return to the brutal pace he’d set before. You realized that he wasn’t going to make this easy for you at all.
“Keep going, come on, we don’t have all day.”
“He said that– oh, fuck– that minor setbacks can lead people to do violent things.” Your eyes closed again as the gears turned in your head. “He asked me if I was a violent person.”
“Are you?” Strahm’s voice reverberated in your head, pushing you closer to the edge.
“No, I’m–” You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that was threatening to leave it. “I’m not.”
“There’s more in there. I can feel it,” he said, urging you to continue. One hand left your hips, finding purchase in your hair. His fingers tightened but he didn’t pull it; it was merely a threat, just another thing that showed how powerless you truly were beneath him. You forced your eyes open, staring at yourself in the mirror. Face squished against the table, hands and elbows still pinned, the gun still facing you, and Strahm relentlessly pounding into you from the back.
Small, quiet moans left your mouth as you forced yourself back into your brain. Your focus was dwindling. Strahm gave your hair the slightest tug. His blue eyes stared at you with a feeling you couldn’t place.
“I told him–” You swallowed hard. “I said thank you, and he said that there I didn’t have to thank him– shit– yet.”
“That’s it. Keep going,” he coaxed. He was gentler this time and it surprised you but you couldn’t react.
“I asked him what he meant and–”
“Yeah?”
“He couldn’t tell me. He told me to– oh my god.” Your eyes pinched shut as his cock hit your sweet spot. Your brain went blank for a second. Your senses were overwhelmed and upon opening your eyes, you remembered how vulnerable you were. A shiver went down your spine and straight to your throbbing cunt.
“He told me not to take my life for granted because at any moment, it can all be over,” you groaned. “And I said– I said thank you to him for the napkin and the sentiment and he nodded and disappeared.”
“See? How hard was that?” Strahm released his grip on your hair, dragging his hand down your back. He didn’t let up but the room grew silent aside from the sound of skin against skin. Fluids were dripping down your legs and you weren’t sure whose they were. Strahm broke the silence, his voice warm and sweet. “I knew you could be good for me.” He rubbed his palm against your ass, admiring the bright red handprint he’d made earlier. The same hand slipped between your legs and soon enough, two fingers found your swollen clit, finally giving you the friction you’d been yearning for.
“Oh, fuck,” you hummed. It felt like a burst of electricity through your body and it was bubbling inside of your core quicker than you wanted it to. You wanted to savor every moment of it; the way his fingers felt against you, the way his nails dug into skin, the sound of his voice ringing in your ears. You’d capture it in the back of your head like a camera and save it for later. The fear of the risk had long dissipated and you were fully embracing the idea of someone walking in. It felt too good for you to care anymore. You’d all but melted into a puddle of whines and whimpers as Strahm used your body for his pleasure.
Strahm was also in his own world. You’d been pulling him from the beginning. You didn’t cower at the way he handled you; you played into it. You copped an attitude. You took the bad cop schtick and used it against him and he was fascinated. And now you were underneath him, so pretty, so pathetic, taking him so perfectly. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t going to his ego. He’d have to do some finagling to get this part of the camera feed clipped and in his back pocket but he’d figure that out later.
“I’m–” You pulled Strahm’s attention back to you, stuttering as you spoke. “I’m gonna cum.”
“Yeah? You think you deserve it?” There was a faint smirk on his face as he heard you whine out a string of yeses.
“Then cum for me.”
You were coming undone in seconds, hips jerking forward, craving more friction on your clit. Surprisingly attentive, Strahm adjusted his movements and helped you ride out your orgasm. You were far past the point of being quiet. The sound of your moans, blissful and loud, echoed through the room. You clutched onto the table as best you could. Strahm followed closely behind you, pulling out and cumming on the same asscheek that was still marked with his handprint. If you weren’t listening close enough, you would’ve missed the groan that left his mouth as he came on you, fingers working against your clit until your arms gave out and you collapsed against the table.
Strahm gave you a moment to calm yourself down, rubbing a soothing circle into your back. You focused on steadying your breathing as best you could as you came down. You wiped the drool off of your parted lips and he tucked himself back into his pants before finally speaking.
“You still remember what he said, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” you said, clearing your throat.
“Good. I’m gonna get you cleaned up, and you’re going to say it all over again. Got it?”
“Uh huh,” you sighed. You smiled softly; barely enough to see but certainly enough to feel. Strahm combed his fingers through your hair, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of your head.
“Perfect.”
Strahm helped you clean up enough to look like you hadn’t gotten dicked down on camera. You restated John’s words again and he wrote them down, finally excusing you, but not before slipping you a piece of paper. You waited until you were outside to read it. You fished around in your pocket for it; it was folded neatly in quarters. Running a hand through your hair, you read the scribbles in the dwindling sunlight.
