I uh. Really love Big Boss just FYI but it’s been forever since I wrote anything for him so I hope this scratches the itch. Extremely spicy below the cut.
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The air in Zanzibar is thick. Heavy, like a damp blanket. You imagine that somewhere above the morning fog there's a greenhouse roof, trapping and magnifying all the sunlight until you can feel the humidity settle on your skin even in your quarters.
It's your off day, and the only thing you want to do is drink. You know it won't help with the heat or the suffocating air, but it takes your mind off everything else. Paperwork. Training. The influx of Diamond Dogs defectors and the looming absorption of all their assets. It's overwhelming and you can almost feel a bottle of frigid tequila calling your name.
The kitchen is empty save Snake, who seems to have the same idea as you. He's pouring himself a lowball of whiskey and sighing, leaned on the high kitchen counter with a half-burned cigar perched between his lips. The smell of his cigar smoke is familiar and sweet; your stomach flutters when you catch his eye.
"Panther," he says, nodding to you. He waits to make sure you aren't followed before he drops his formalities. "How'd you sleep?"
"Well," you answer. "It's nice knowing I can ignore reveille for once."
"Figured you could use a day off. You've had your nose buried in ledgers for weeks."
"You're gonna make someone jealous."
He smirks, taking a long drag off his cigar before snuffing it in a left over beer can.
"Let them be jealous," he mumbles. He pats the countertop beside him. "If anyone worked half as hard as you, they'd get a day off, too."
You wander around to his side of the counter, leaning back against it just close enough to hope he picks up on the cue. He slides you his glass and lets his fingers hover around the rim until you're forced to brush against them to grab it.
"You should consider your company a privilege," he adds.
"Why?"
"You're different. Smarter. Cunning."
"I've never heard 'cunning' used in a positive light."
"You've never hung around the right crowd. One should feel...honored."
You giggle, sipping at your whiskey. "That's a lot coming from the Legendary Soldier," you murmur, fighting a smile that would blow your cover. But maybe, you think, you should let it be blown. "Boss--"
He pushes back from the counter suddenly, tossing back a shot straight from the bottle.
"I'm bad at this," he growls. He slams the bottle behind you, stepping into your body with his full weight until you're pinned against the cabinets. "Never been good at the small talk."
You barely have time to lose your glass before he's dipping down to kiss you, his lips crashing into yours so hard that you wonder if his teeth broke skin. His kisses are harsh, greedy, his fingers rough against your face and the taste of cigars and whiskey flooding your senses. Your skin burns and not from the liquor; need flashes over you like wildfire and you whine against his mouth, desperate.
Some part of you wonders how long the two of you have been waiting for a moment alone. Weeks, months maybe. The way his hands paw at your fatigues implies longer even though you know you've only been in Zanzibar for a short amount of time. Your own fingers find their way beneath his black t-shirt just in time to hear the kitchen door rattle.
Panic rushes over both of you. Your first instinct is to duck -- it's not like there's any time to run -- and Snake has to go along with it. He leans over you against the top of the counter and greets someone you can't quite hear, fishing in his pocket for another cigar.
"I just had a couple of questions," the soldier asks. "You had something on today's training I don't understand."
"Yeah?"
It's more of a grunt than an acknowledgement. You can't help but notice the way his fatigues are strained, his cock pressing against the thin fabric with the intent to break through just inches from your face. He shifts, obviously uncomfortable, and you run your hands up the insides of his thighs slow enough that there's no noise.
The soldier prattles on, giving you enough time to work your fingers through the button-fly front of his fatigues. Snake leans into your touch unconsciously, shuffling a little more forward as he listens to whoever is on the other side of your counter. He covers his own sharp inhale with a drag from his cigar as you slip his cock free of the rough fabric.
You marvel for a moment as it bumps against your cheek, thick and harder than granite.
It jolts when you brush your lips along his shaft, twitching up in anticipation as you kiss the head lightly. You swallow it soundlessly, unable to take all of him but determined to try, feeling his thighs tense beneath your hands as he struggles to keep quiet.
"Where's your platoon leader?" he asks, straightening a little until he can push into your mouth.
"I am the platoon leader."
"I-...forget about it for the day. It's Sunday."
"But sir--"
"Go on to the next segment and I'll take over later."
As soon as the door shuts behind him, Snake's hand is in your hair. He pushes your head back against the cabinets, rocking his hips against your face even as you try to take even more. Your moan encourages a growl from him that makes you writhe on the cold floor.
"I knew I liked you," he says lowly, guiding your head until you're bobbing along his cock at a steady rhythm.
He knows when your jaw begins to ache. He can tell by the way you try to angle your head a different way, your body arching away from the cabinets with effort.
You know he's strong, but the way he hefts you up from the floor still surprises you. You know there'll be bruises beneath your arms from the grip he has beneath your arms but you don't care; you're more concerned with the way he struggles with your own fatigues, his fingers stumbling over the buttons until you nearly rip them trying to open them. He snatches them over your hips before he whirls you around, leveraging you against the counter until he can align himself.
When his cock presses against your entrance, your mind blanks. Just the pressure of it against you is enough to make you whine in anticipation and you try to drive your hips back into him, urging him to take you until the first few inches make you regret your eagerness. He quiets you, leaning over you to curl his hand over your mouth.
It takes quite some time for him to ease into you, making shallow thrusts until you're limp bent over the top of the counter. When he bottoms out you see stars.
"Quiet," he says again, barely moving his hips until he knows you've adjusted.
"It's your own base," you remind him. "What are they gonna do? Fire you?"
"Mutiny when they find out I really do play favorites."
You never imagined Big Boss to be a gentle man and you are correct. His pace is as rough as you dreamed, skin slapping against skin as you arch back toward him in ecstasy. His hands are everywhere, pulling at your uniform, snatching at your hair as the thrill of it all sets in. The thought of being caught makes him frantic and the added layer of adrenaline feels downright feral.
It's enough to push you to an early climax. He presses his fingers past your lips as you crest to keep you silent and they taste of whiskey just like his mouth, making you keen even louder as the pleasure washes over you in violent waves. You shudder beneath him, the release more intense than you know how to handle, and his own orgasm hits without warning.
He traps you against the counter as he comes, his fingers clawing at the smooth countertop for any sort of control or grip. Each aftershock drives him deeper and deeper, twitching inside you at just the right angle to make you grind back into him for more.
The mess that slides down your thighs is the least of your concerns. You want him again and your scheming is already consuming you.
"Briefing at 23:00," he says, breathless, reaching down to pull your fatigues back up despite the ribbons of cum painting your legs. "My quarters."
"Yes, Boss," you manage.
He straightens himself up quickly, making a break for the kitchen door, but not before he grabs one last gratuitous handful of your ass.
if u want to watch me attempt to start and finish my essay before 11:59pm gmt +10 tonight OR want to know what to avoid when in a similar situation head over to my fuckin twitter
