▪️Gif drabbles day 1 (18+, ~700 words)
“What the hell are you doing, rookie?” Conrad’s voice startled you to death, a hasty hand slamming his laptop shut. You had no idea for how long the captain who was assigned your watchdog on this nerve-wracking expedition had watched you. You were new in the special forces however, your presence has been a delight to Conrad’s usually so well under control body.
Broad, muscled shoulders formed the apex of his defined biceps and sinfully exposed forearms as he leaned against the wall so casually. The stubble of his lately shaved beard played around the sharp jawline like a weapon. The steel blue of his slightly narrowed eyes pierced you like of the hooks the camp doctor used to stitch wounds.
“Captain, I’m sorry but… I-“ your voice lost it's usual strength as the handsome man easily nudged himself off the wall, long legs striding towards you until the ex soldier towered right in front of your anxious self. God, he could be intimidating, no wonder they literally begged him to join this mission. Amusement in between hues of chiding strictness emitted from his eyes like deadly radiation. Deadly to your panties.
“Were you spying on me, rookie?” He rasped, strong arms parting and caging your heavily rising chest between the backrest of your chair and the table. “You're aware that this won’t be a peaceful promenade through the local park, hm? Why then wasting your time on spying on your captain, y/l/n?” Conrad's baritone voice mused bringing his right arm up to this sweet mouth you've secretly been dying to kiss. The bulging biceps strained the lash fabric of his dark blue shirt like a threat to everyone who laid eyes on them, now leading to his rosy lips.
…how they would feel sinfully tugging and nudging your most sensitive parts while low hums made them vibrate, the rosy skin powerless against the sound of seething masculinity. How he would lick lazy trails across your cleavage while you mounted his thick thighs. How your body would bounce of the sheer force of his experienced and deadly muscles; many well tuned soldiers assembling if their captain called to sate his need. Would he be rough with those raspy fingers which could rest on the trigger of an M16 completely motionless but always ready to kill? Or would he prefer to fuck you slow, sensual thrusts massaging your body into his mattress while he groaned like a starved man?
“Now we’re daydreaming. Sweet” Conrad chided with this playful smirk on his lips he always put on when watching you train in the base-camp. 'Idiot' you internally damned his cheeky words, blinking a few times to make sure your improper brain truly had returned to reality. “I was just thinking about-“ you began feigning self-confidence to veil the throbbing lust that coated your breath like morning fog in the rainforest you were trapped in. But the swift uncrossing of displayed forearms cut you off.
A flawless string of white teeth was revealed, artistically reflecting the dimmed tube light like a painting. Conrad’s sharp bone structure was underlined by hollowed cheeks as the soldier ripped the small clasp of his watch open. With his teeth. There was something savage about him, almost primal layered in his sceptical nature you just couldn’t get over.
With a dull thud the leather band of his watch was tossed on the table, the silver case sliding across the wooden surface and stopping right in front of your chest. Without even brushing your skin he pulled his arms crossed again turning one boot in the dirty, squeaky tiles. He was about to leave, thank god.
“Come to my tent in exactly ten minutes. I suppose we shall find a solution to your little distraction-problem, rookie” he snickered, something dark flashing in his blue orbs like a whizzing by shooting star. Your legs clenched in excitement and the lump in your throat grew tighter as if you were strangled by the fact that both Captain Conrad and you knew what he really meant. A smirk adorned his unique face like jewelry before he left the room.
Devouring every passed second like a sugary treat you waited impatiently to go off and find the tall framed man in his private tent. To enter the shank tank and bury the professional relationship you kept to your captain six feet under. To hell with all those rules and circumstances. If it was true was they told about the status of the cartography process you wouldn’t be here for too long anyway…
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