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“What are you going to do, put me on my knees and make me suck your strap?” Barker challenges.
Shooting her arm past him, she slams the door closed with an open palm before he can escape, Briggs snaps back without considering her words,
“Would it finally shut you up?”
Damn insufferable man. She doesn’t care he’s a drunk - everyone has their way of coping - but on the job? That she won’t tolerate, which is why she’d forced him into the empty breakroom to begin with. One of them has to show a sense of professionalism and she’d prefer her pilots not see her reduced to a screaming match with Barker-fucking-Taube of all people.
She’s pissed but the strap thing might be a little too far, so she’s prepared to be the bigger person and apologize until she sees the flush creeping up his neck and into his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he meekly looks away.
Oh?
The professional thing to do would be to let this go and return to their conversation. . . but the opportunity to fuck with Barker’s head? That’s too good to pass up.
Slowly retracting her arm, she looks him up and down, “Sit down, Barker. I’m not done with you.”
Is she imagining things or did he shiver?
Normally Barker would fight her, so when he immediately obeys, well that’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“On the couch,” she clarifies, leaning against the closed door and suppressing a smirk when he hesitantly moves from a metal dining chair to the sagging couch.
“You disappointed me today, Barker,” Briggs tells him, closely watching his reactions as she purposefully sits in the chair she’d ordered him to abandon.
“You put a lot of lives at risk for a sip of whiskey. Was it worth it?”
He has to lick his lips before croaking “no”.
“Look at me, Barker.”
His eyes flick up to meet hers.
Oh-hoh-hoh, this is dangerous.
He looks so cute right now; all flustered and wide-eyed as he tries to meet her gaze. Even from her position several feet away she can see his pupils are blown wide, nearly eclipsing his normally brown eyes.
“No what, Barker?”
“No, ma’am,” he practically whispers, red from the roots of his hair to the collar of his flightsuit. She’s willing to bet money the color extends down further.
Resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on the backs of her hands, she gives him a look of faux concern, a sly smirk threatening the corners of her mouth,
“You look you're overheating, Barker. Are you doing okay?”
“Yes,” he mumbles and looks away.
“Look at me, Barker. Yes what?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hmm,” she cocks her head with a patronizing smile, “I don’t think you are. Why don’t you unzip to help you cool down?”
He whines like he wants to protest but his hand is already moving to the zipper at the base of his throat.
“All the way,” she instructs when he stops only a few inches down. Seeing him hesitate, she drops the condescending tone for a moment, “Do you want to leave?”
“Huh?” his eyes, which had become fixed on his knees at some point flash back to her face and some of the fog clears like he’s realizing for the first time what he’s doing. He’s obviously half-hard already judging by the growing bump between his legs but she’s not in the position to burn bridges. For better or worse, the Militia needs Barker and his Elites.
“Do you want to leave?” she repeats, “We’ll pretend this never happened and carry on like normal.”
“I-,” his voice catches and he looks away again, his hand still on his zipper.
“Out loud, Barker. Do you want to stay?”
“Yes,” he says so quietly she almost misses it.
“Yes what, Barker?”
“Yes, I want to stay. Ma’am,” he adds.
“Good. Unzip, all the way.”
He does, pulling the zipper all the way down his torso and thigh until it stops just above his right knee.
“Shirt next.”
His white undershirt is quickly cast aside and he eagerly leans forward.
“Come here,” she crooks her finger for him, pleasantly surprised when he gets on his knees and crawls to her without further prompting, patiently kneeling in front of her to await her next command.
Patting her thigh, she gestures him up with a predatory smile, “Take a seat, Barker.”
He obeys without question, cautiously straddling her thigh only to groan when she grabs his hips and forces him to grind down on it.
“Are you hard already, Barker? Just from a few words?”
“Yes, ma’am” he wheezes.
“Good,” she grins up at him, her fingers flexing on his hips, “Do you want to get off?”
He nods jerkily, already rocking his groin against his thigh.
“You know what to do,” she encourages, one hand drifting back to grab his ass, “Get yourself off.”
His movements start slow but he quickly establishes a rhythm, his hands gripping the back of the chair as he enthusiastically humps her thigh. Lazily running her hands across his bare torso, she experimentally flicks his right nipple and is delighted when he moans and tips his head back, baring his throat to her.
Cooing, she pinches first his right nipple, then the left, “Look at you. Someone trained you well, didn’t they? I barely have to do anything.”
He whines in response, dipping his head and looking away.
“Look at me,” she commands, “You asked if I want you to suck my strap. Is that something you want to do, Barker? Do you want to get on your knees and suck my strap until I tell you to stop? Maybe I’d do paperwork while you do, just to be mean.”
“Haaa,” he groans and picks up the pace.
“You like that idea? Being ignored while you humiliate yourself at my feet,” she twists his nipple just to hear him yelp, “Awfully sensitive here, aren’t you? Maybe I should get a pair of clamps and a chain I can yank on when you’re being bad. Huh? Or maybe I should put a vibrator up your ass and leave you handcuffed to my bunk while I do my work, maybe spank you if you make too much noise. If you’re being extra annoying I could even pull out the belt. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tied down and punished for running that big mouth of yours.”
“Oh, fuck,” he wheezes, his pace slowing somewhat, “Fuck, I’m close.”
“Don’t come until I tell you.” Grabbing his hips, she forces him to grind down on her leg, reveling in the way he mewls, “Listen to you. You sound like a bitch in heat, Barker. Is that what you are? Are you my bitch?
“Or maybe you want to be treated softly? You’d look so pretty in nothing but a pair of stockings. You could sit in my lap and fuck yourself while I do my paperwork. Then after I could lay you down and fuck you so sweetly you want to cry. Pet you and tell you what a good boy you are, so pretty and clever, my baby boy.” Moaning loudly, Barker pushes his face into her shoulder, curling around her as he ruts faster, grinding down on Briggs' leg with increased fervor as his end approaches.
“What’s it gonna be, hmm, Barker? Are you my bitch or my baby boy?”
He jolts and shudders against her and her grin spreads, “You like that, huh? You like the idea of being my baby boy?”
Unable to speak, he whimpers and nods. Briggs chuckles darkly in his ear.
“Stop.”
He does, pupils blown wide as he awaits her next order.
“Good boy,” she coos, “Open your mouth.”
He does.
She can ask him to do anything right now, she realizes as she presses her thumb against the flat of his tongue.
“Go.”
Curling back into her, he keens and increases his erratic pace, open-mouthed and desperate for release but clearly holding himself back.
“Such a good boy. So well trained,” she praises, wrapping an arm around his neck and pushing him down against her thigh to stop his movements, “Are you close?”
“Uh-huh,” he whines around her thumb.
“Do you deserve to come?” she teases as she strokes her thumb across his tongue.
She expects him to whine and protest but instead he looks at her with hazy eyes and whispers “please” against her thumb. Humming, she trails her tongue up his jaw to his ear,
“Come for me, baby boy.”
The effect is instantaneous.
Spitting out her finger, he burrows his face back into her neck and wraps himself around her in his desperation to finally get off. She knows the moment he does when his muscles tense to the point she worries he might hurt himself. He stays frozen like that for several heartbeats before finally gasping and loosening his vice-like grip on the back of her jacket, slumping forward into her with his full weight after making a few more aborted thrusts. Wheezing at the sudden pressure, Briggs shifts him by his hips into a more comfortable position and trails her lips across his temple while whispering praises.
“That was a long one. You needed that, huh?”
He doesn’t speak, just nods and whimpers into the hollow of her throat.
“Do you think you have another one in you?” she asks, trailing a hand down his side and over his hip to wedge it between her thigh and his softening groin. He moans in pained protest but obediently pushes against her open palm as she rubs the heel of her hand the damp spot he created in his briefs.
“So well trained,” she muses softly and palpates his balls just to see if he’ll pull away. He doesn’t but she can feel his eyelashes flutter against her skin.
“I think you have another one in you,” she decides cruelly, slipping her hand into his waistband and grabbing his deflating cock, “I think you need to be reminded of what you did today.”
“No, please, no,” Barker begs as her hand begins to move, using his cum as lubricant against his shaft, “I don’t want another one.”
Grabbing him by his hair, Briggs forces the squirming man to look at her, “What you want doesn’t matter, pretty boy. You get what I give you and you thank me for it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whimpers, swallowing thickly as she forces her to bare his neck to her, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Good boy.” Giving him one last firm stroke, she releases his swelling cock, “Get up and pull down your flightsuit.”
Removing his boots is more of a hassle than he has patience for, so once his flightsuit is around his ankles she instructs him to leave it and bend over the breakroom table. He’s such a pretty sight, bent over with his ass up; pity he’s still wearing his cum stained briefs.
“Have you ever taken it in the ass, Barker?” she mocks.
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” she muses, “Someone else’s strap? Or are you not picky?” She slaps his ass, “How many people have fucked this cute hole, Barker?”
“I dunno,” he moans into his arms.
“You don’t know?” Pulling down his briefs, she slaps his ass again, “Do you not remember? Or has it been so many you lost count?”
Whimpering, he shakes his head and wiggles his hips, “I dunno. Please, Sarah, please.”
“So fucking needy,” she mocking runs a hand over the red marks she’d left, trailing it over his hip to grab his oversensitive cock as she hisses filth into his ear, “I bet you let anyone fuck you, huh, pretty boy? Bend you over behind a bar and fuck you dry. Is that how you’re able to afford your habit? Can’t be cheap getting black-out drunk everyday and we both know you don’t get pension.” Running her other hand up his chest, she takes him by the throat and squeezes enough to cut blood flow to his brain, “Should I be worried about catching something, baby boy?”
“No,” he gasps as he rocks into the hand around his dick, “No, I’m clean, I promise. Please fuck me, Sarah.”
“Such a needy little boy,” she chuckles darkly and bites his earlobe, “Next time I’ll have my strap ready and fuck you ‘til you can’t breathe, hmm? This time my fingers will have to do.”
“God, yes,” he moans. Humming in his ear, she increases the pressure around his neck, holding him there until wheezes for air before letting go and pushing on his lower back to get him to arch his spine.
They don’t have any lube but he deserves a little pain today.
“Suck,” she commands, presenting him with two fingers while her other hand continues to work his cock. He eagerly accepts her digits into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around them until she’s satisfied. Adding her own spit for extra lubrication, she finally parts his cheeks to find his quivering hole.
“Such a pretty hole for a pretty boy,” she praises as she teasingly circles a finger around his rim before slowly pushing it past the first ring of muscle, “This is going to hurt, do you understand? You disappointed me today and little boys who disappoint me deserve to be punished.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he gasps, lifting his hips to give her a better angle, “Please hurt me, I deserve it.”
“Good boy,” she coos and pushes a second finger in before he’s ready, relishing in his pained groan. Crooking her fingers, she grins when he jumps and moans as she brushes over the bundle of nerves there. Between the fingers assaulting his prostate and her hand around his dick, it doesn’t take Barker long to come again with a pained wheeze, his spine curling in as his dick dribbles cum.
“Is that it?” she demands and forces a third finger into him. Realizing her assault hasn’t stopped, Barker immediately begins to wiggle and plead.
“No, please stop, I can’t do another one.”
“You can do whatever I tell you too,” she hisses, “You fucked up today, Barker. Do you have any idea how much work went into organizing that raid? How many hours and sleepless nights I spent planning every detail only for you to nearly ruin it?”
“It’s too much, it hur-ur-urts,” he gasps and wails beneath her.
“You deserve this, remember?” Grabbing him by his hair again, she lifts his head and smiles with teeth when she sees tears forming in his eyes, “You’re lucky I don’t have my strap, baby boy, or I’d keep fucking you ‘til your eyes roll back and you pass out. I might even continue then. Wake you up with the most painful orgasm you’ve ever experienced and you’d beg me for more.” He yowls when she inserts a fourth finger, stretching his unprepared hole even further. “I bet I could find something in the kitchenette over there, baby boy. Shove it up your ass and make you ride it while you hump my foot and cry for mercy. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you eat me out but I don’t know if you’ve earned the privilege.”
Barker chokes at the thought, wheezing and wailing as she increases her speed.
“You like that, baby boy? You like the thought of eating me out while I humiliate you? You know anyone could walk through that door, right? It’s not locked. Anyone could walk in right now to see you bent over with my fingers up your ass and my hand around your cock. What will they think of you then, huh?”
Barker comes screaming in a puddle of tears, sweat, and snot, his balls unable to produce anything as he jerks wildly trying to escape. Removing her fingers from his ass, Briggs wraps an arm around his neck and forces him upright, still pumping his cock mercilessly.
“Please, stop stop stop,” he sobs, weakly gripping the arm around his neck as he begs, “Ple-e-ease.”
“You’re lucky I have a debrief to get to,” she snarls in his ear, “So fucking lucky, Barker. If I ever catch you drinking on the job again, if I even suspect you’re so much as tipsy, I’ll do everything I said and more. You won’t be able to sit for days, you won’t even be able to walk. Understood?”
“Ye–yes, yes, ma’am! Ple’se, Sarah, ple’se stop stop sto-o-oh fuck!”
Content with his penance, she kisses the underside of his jaw,
“Good boy.”
Releasing him, she lets Barker crash to the floor in a weeping mess, his flightsuit bunched around his ankles and briefs around his knees.
“You made a mess on the table,” she comments dispassionately, wiping his cum up with her hand and presenting it to Barker, “Clean it up.”
Unable to lift his head, he opens his mouth for her and weakly cleans her individual fingers. Once satisfied, Briggs allows him to collapse back into himself and forces herself to relax as well. She’s still pissed but not enough to leave him like this. Plus, she’s exhausted as well.
Retrieving a roll of paper towels from the kitchenette, she wets a few and returns to Barker’s side, gently lifting his head to wipe the mess on his face and neck.
“You did so good, baby boy. You were so good for me.”
Unable to respond, he watches weakly through half-lidded eyes as she pulls his dead weight into her lap and cradles his head against her chest, gently carding her fingers through his sweat-slicked hair as she continues to praise him until the shaking stops.
“Can you stand, sweet boy?”
His only response is a punched-out wheeze so painful she winces in sympathy.
“We can’t stay here. I’m going to help you up.”
Barker may be underweight from years of not taking care of himself but it’s still a battle to get him off her lap and to his feet. Getting his clothes back on is even harder as he keeps slumming forward into her, nearly knocking them both to the ground. Unfortunately, there’s nothing she can do about how clearly fucked up he is other than hope no one sees them. Her quarters are closer than his, so she drags him through the halls, the few pilots they encounter politely pretending not to notice.
“W’er’ we?” he mumbles as she types in her passcode and pulls him through her door.
“My room.”
Helping him onto her bunk, she allows him to lay boneless as she strips him out of his sweat-soaked flightsuit and cum-crusted briefs and sets them aside for later. Next she wets a washrag in the sink and gently wipes him down the best she can without forcing him into a shower. He’s so lost in subspace he’d probably drown.
“C’n you st’y?” he whispers when she tosses the rag into the pile of clothing.
“For a few minutes,” she assures, climbing into the bunk and pulling him into her chest before tucking the blankets over them, “Go to sleep, Barker. I’ll be back before you wake up.”
He falls asleep almost instantly, face buried between her breasts as he sighs happily and nuzzles into her warmth. Once she’s sure he’s out, she fishes her phone from her pocket and types a quick message letting everyone know they’ll debrief in twenty minutes.
For now she’ll comfort her impromptu partner and revel in the fact she finally has a way to shut the man up.