Work Text:
Human tripod
♪ Shameless - Camilla Cabello
The plastic chair digs into my thighs on Friday evening. I'd been looking forward to some downtime this weekend, as promised by our superiors. Yet here I am, sitting in the briefing room and getting assigned night duty. Great. Just how I wanted to spend my time off. The others in the room seem to be thinking the same. Frustrated sighs and grumpy soldiers who all got their plans cancelled for the little downtime we get. There's always going to be someone that draws the short straw and gets assigned weekend duty. It just sucks when it's you.
There isn't much to do here besides work. Our base is located in the midst of Al Mazrah, which is boring to begin with. The city is destroyed, buildings bombed, gunfire constantly heard downtown. Most shops are raided, so there isn't much to buy either. The civilians run at the sight of uniforms. No fun.
We've been deployed here for a few months, and everyday it's the same. Most of us get sent out to pointless firefights, some get sent to infiltrate the enemy base - the common factor is casualties on both sides. I don't see the point, really, but I follow orders. That I'm good at. Extract what they want retrieved, destroy what's in their way, eliminate who they want gone. I'm a footsoldier, a pawn. It doesn't bother me as long as I get paid.
Which brings me back to my current shitshow - night patrol. It’s five P.M and I've been up since before dawn already. The shift starts at seven, so I can catch dinner and a nap before I need to trek back out into the streets. Night patrols are the most boring part of the job. Most of the time it is just waiting for something to happen. Waiting, waiting, waiting… and nothing ever does. I do the route, note any activity down and am back in the barracks before dawn. No use standing outside all night observing the unruly city.
“(callsign!) You will be assigned to post watch with König tonight.” Captain Nolan’s voice has me shift my gaze to him. I nod, confirming that I got the order. “Roger, sir,” I mutter, glancing over at the man who was designed to be my partner for the night. A 6’10” Austrian Colonel who is the grumpiest man on the earth. I get it, no one likes it here, but that man is a pain to be partnered with. He’ll brood, glare, grunt, just be in a pissy mood in general. He’s rather stuck up as well, a real rule follower. I doubt he’ll let me skip patrol. This'll be a fun night.
His body language doesn't reveal any hint to his reaction. This is one of those times where I wish I could see his face. König is damn hard to read, thanks to the sniper hood covering his face 24/7. I can't tell if he’s as frustrated as I am. Sensing my stare, his head suddenly turned in my direction, causing me to quickly look away. I'd rather not end in a staring contest with him, or any kind of contact. The man could crush my throat with one arm before I'd even known he was there. I'd be a fool not to be scared of him.
At 18:54 I'm waiting by the main entrance to the base, waiting for König. I'm wearing long sleeves with my tactical vest on, dressed in black head to toe. The sandstorms and winds pick up at dusk, so I tied a dark bandana around my face for protection, concealing everything under my eyes. My hair is braided back and tucked under my shawl; washing sand out of it is a pain. My boots are tightly laced and polished. I won’t give König any ammunition to correct me on uniform violations. I check my watch again. 18:57. My pulse spikes. Is this my lucky day? Is König actually late? I can't wait to rub it in his face when he finally shows up–
“Are you ready, Private?” I nearly jump out of my skin. König is standing right behind me. How long had he been standing there? He must've been lurking in the shadows, watching me wait for him like an idiot. “Ready when you are, sir,” I mutter under my breath and push off the wall I was leaning on.
I feel ridiculous standing next to König. He’s huge next to my 5’7, and I have to crane my neck so far that it hurts to look up at his face. His face that is once again covered. At least today I'm also concealing my face, so he'll be the one struggling to read me. “Do you have the equipment?” His German accent adds a gruff edge to his voice. “Yes, Colonel.” I lift the bag I'm carrying in emphasis. It is unwritten protocol for the inferior to bring the equipment needed for patrols or exercises.
“We’ll be taking post at the west tower,” König informs me. I nod, confirming that I'd heard him. We walk in silence out the main doors, out into the night. Al Mazrah is different at nighttime. Debris and sand cloud the air, making the stars blurry and invisible. The sky is bathed in orange and red hues, the ground is littered with rubble and wreckage. The tower we’re headed to is behind a village, so we'll have to move through it. Based on my previous interactions with the civilians here, König’s presence won't do us any favours. A big scary soldier like him is gonna attract unwanted attention, and the last thing we need is casualties tonight.
The street is filled with an eerie silence. The cobblestone clacks underneath my boots, mixing with the sound of my breathing. Yeah. My boots and my breathing. König has an uncanny way of moving around silently and going unnoticed. If he were behind me, I'd probably not even have known he was there. It's a strange skill considering his size. From what I've heard, König applied for the sniper position at first, but got rejected because of his height and massive build. It's only rumours, I don't know if it’s true, but it has me thinking he would make a rather nice sniper. König is definitely someone you'd want in your team. Despite being an ass, he's got skill.
Faint lights shine from a broken down mosque across the street. It is praying time. I glance at König. “Even in the midst of hell, they still have their faith.” My tone is somber. It’s been a long time since I’ve believed in anything.
König is quiet for a long time. His gaze darts off into the distance, as if he’s remembering something. Once again I’m curious as to what he’s thinking about. He stares off into the abyss for a few moments, until his answer comes out cold and lifeless. “Faith won’t save them.”
The wooden ladder creaks under my weight as I climb it. We’re finally at the tower, having moved silently through the village on the southern end of Al Mazrah. Navigating the civilians is always a challenge. Alerting civvies can alert enemies, and that’s the exact opposite of what night patrol does. A hand grabs mine when I reach the top of the ladder. König hauls me up, lifting me as if I were nothing more than a feather. My hand feels small in his, encased in his large one. The heat is radiating off of him, even through our gloves. It takes a second for me to get back in the moment, completely thrown off by how he manhandled me. “Thanks,” I mutter, receiving a grunt in response.
I kneel on the floor of the tower, setting my bag down and unloading it. Rifles, binoculars, thermal sight, heartbeat sensor, night vision goggles, night vision camera. Beside me, König starts setting everything up, loading his Dragunov with bullets. Just a precaution. Night patrol is usually filled with hours upon hours with waiting, but everything is possible in Al Mazrah I've learned.
He grabs the binoculars and scans the perimeter while I reload my trusty AK-47. This one is an assault rifle; one sniper is enough for patrol. “Movement?” I ask, glancing up at him from my position on the ground. König shakes his head, joining me on the floor. He crouches down and positions the barrel of his Dragunov between the bars of the wooden railing of the tower. The Austrian holds out his hand to me. I raise a brow in question. “Tripod?” He asks with a heavy sigh as if he’s already disappointed in me. Oh! Tripod! I almost forgot. I rummage through the bag again, searching for the damned three-legged support. Where is it?
I narrow my eyes at the bag. I could've sworn that I packed the tripod. No. You've got to be kidding me. I turn the bag upside down, dread filling me. This cannot be happening. I can’t have forgotten the fucking tripod in front of König.
To my absolute horror, the terrifying giant of a man turns around and sees me fumbling with the empty bag. His eyes turn murderous as his gaze zeroes in on me. It goes a whole fifteen seconds before he says anything. Fifteen seconds of pure dread on my part, fury on his. König’s voice comes out quiet and devoid of emotion. “You forgot the tripod.” It isn't a question. The temperature in the air seemingly drops ten degrees at the coldness in his voice. I swallow a whimper, biting my bottom lip to keep it from shaking. Luckily my face is covered by the bandana.
I don't say anything for a little while, seeing my life flashing before my eyes. How would König kill me? Choking, gun, knife; if he wanted to, he could snap my neck with one hand. How could I fuck up this badly in front of him, in front of a superior? All my twenty seven years of life pass by me, narrowed down to this moment that will most likely be my death.
König tilts his head at me, fury radiating off of him. This is where I go. My Colonel is going to kill me. Going to kill me and then probably use my dead body as a fucking tripod–
That gives me an idea.
“What if- what if I was the tripod?” I suggest quickly. König crosses his arms and gives me an annoyed look. “You were the tripod?” he repeats, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief. This is a bad idea. A really bad idea and we both know it. A human tripod is… intimate, to say the least, and definitely inappropriate for a Colonel and his subordinate.
“Yes,” I draw the word out, watching closely for his reaction. While his face betrays nothing, his body language is tense. However, his eyes are filled with a hint of mirth.
“And what… position would you be in, pray tell?” König asks, taking a step towards me. From my position on the floor, I have to sit back on the palms of my hands to be able to look up at him.
I try to imagine it - me, bent over König's lap with his gun resting on my back - and suddenly there's a whole other picture in my head that is definitely not appropriate. “One that would give you proper support and make me regret this in the morning.” Sitting very still for hours upon end is something we're trained for, but not even KorTac can defy the physics of leg cramps.
If König was amused, he didn't give any indication of it. He seemed to mull it over for a few minutes before giving a slight inclination of his head, albeit reluctantly. “Alright.”
He sits down on the floor of the tower, parting his legs to make room for me. Damn, this is gonna be awkward. I hesitate, pondering how many professional boundaries we’re crossing right now. König gestures pointedly to the space between his legs, seemingly as awkward as I am. Oh, suck it up. This is my Colonel, there’s nothing inappropriate here. I'm the only one thinking anything different. König is definitely not feeling anything other than mild irritation at the thought of me being bent over his lap. Nothing special.
Scooting over to him, I shift into a kneeling position between his legs. “Uh, how do we do this?” I ask, staring down in my lap. Close like this, his scent envelopes me, flooding my nostrils. König smells like gunpowder and blood, even though his uniform is cleaned and pressed sharp. It’s the kind of smell that lingers, the one that stays no matter how much you wash your clothes. König must have killed a lot of people for the scent to root so deeply within him.
“Bend your back - like this.” Shivers break out down my spine when König places his hand between my shoulderblades, pushing me forwards. I couldn't even resist if I tried. I purposefully avoid his gaze as I’m bent over his lap, ass in the air, coming face to face with his crotch. My face flushes, and I have to turn my head to the side. “Is this good?” I ask once I feel the weight of the gun on my back.
König aims down his sight, checking the angle. “Not quite.” His voice is full of professional focus. I hold my breath as he grips my hips with his large hand, adjusting them to his liking. “There,” he mutters to himself, peering through his scope again. As the night drags on, König switches to his thermal sight and attaches the heartbeat sensor. My body is rigid, determined not to move even a muscle. This is too weird. My face is literally inches from his manhood. König hasn’t said anything about it, but the tension in his body betrays his discomfort. My neck is starting to hurt from being craned for so long, but there’s no way I'm laying my head in his lap.
“Contact - northwest.” König’s whisper is a welcome distraction. I hold my breath as I wait for the inevitable. The recoil from the shot hits my body hard, making me jerk forward, affectingly pushing my head down into his crotch. “Hold still,” König mutters through gritted teeth, and this time I don't react. While we’re trained to withstand the recoil, it’s different when the force is distributed on my spine rather than in my arms.
König leans forward, forcing me further into his lap. At this point, I have to lay my head on his thigh to prevent kissing his cock. A few more shots later, the gunfire stills. I don’t dare move, staring wide-eyed at the floor. “Target down,” König rasps. “How are you holding up?”
“My leg is cramping,” I reply, desperate to get out of this position. While my leg is indeed cramping from sitting in this position for so long, I cannot wait for my face not to be pressed into his intimate areas. König seems to share the sentiment. He’s quiet for a long time, and when I turn my head to the side to glance up at him, the answer is staring me in the face. Literally.
My eyes widen. A quiet little, “Oh,” falls from my lips. König is… hard. Like, fully erect right before my eyes.
König clears his throat. “Let’s change positions,” he suggests, as awkward as I am. I jump up faster than I think I ever have, turning away so he can’t see how hard I’m blushing. “Well, uhm… It’s okay– It’s natural,” I try to clear the air, but König shuts me up with a hard glare.
I give König a few minutes to gather himself, turning my back to him to give him privacy and stretching my body. I can already feel the ache in my muscles coming on. That kind of reaction is… well, it is natural. We were locked in a compromising situation, and he can’t help how his body reacts.
“You good?” I ask a few minutes later. He gives a confirming grunt in response, and only then do I dare turn back around to face him. König looks more composed now, and when I discreetly take a peek, there’s no boner in sight. I check the time. 23:46. Still a few hours left before the next patrol comes.
“Well, we’re not doing that again,” I say, trying to come up with a new way to still act as his support while not causing another problem. “I don't suppose you want to be tripod?” König snorts at the suggestion. It wouldn’t even work since he’s proportionally huge in relation to me, and I don't think I even want to see König in that position.
He thinks for a moment. “What if I’m prone?” he suggests. I picture it in my head: König laying prone, me in front of him, gun on my lower back. That would be easier than what we just did. “Yeah, that works,” I confirm. König lays down on his stomach, making room for me. I lower down on the floor, back to König, sitting on my knees. Bending forward, I rest my head on my arms. I hear König suck in a sharp breath. This is pretty comfortable. Ass up, face down. It is also my favorite position-
Woah. Don't think that.
The barrel lands on my back again. The minutes pass by with no more activity. I’m about to check the time for what feels like the hundredth time when König pulls away from me with a frustrated grunt. Huh? I glance over my shoulder, seeing him sitting up with his Dragunov in his lap. “What?” I ask. “We’ve still got an hour to go.”
König shakes his head, disassembling his night vision goggles. I sit up as well. What is his problem? We’ve got a job to do. I give him a pointed look. He snorts as if I've offended him, though not responding. “What is your problem?” I repeat.
“Your arse is in my face,” he groans in exasperation. I draw back. “What?”
“Your arse is in my face!” König repeats, jumping to his feet. His voice is rough and pained, as if he was being physically tortured. At his height, he towers over me where I sit on the floor. I scramble backwards when he advances towards me, attempting to put some distance between us. König is simmering with anger, and I do not like that anger is pointed towards me. What the hell? I know I forgot the tripod, but we still got the job done. Why is he so mad?
König crouches down to me, his enormous frame looming over me. My back is forced to the floor when he places his hands on either side of my face, caging me in. This is it. This is when König finally snaps and chokes me to death. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
“Look at me.” König’s growl is more animalistic than human. My eyelids fly up. His face is inches from mine. My heart feels like it’s gonna beat out of my chest, and I’m sure he can hear it. The look in his eyes is absolutely wild, pupils blown and only a thin stripe of icy blue visible. The sniper hood and his size, compared to the feral look in his eyes, makes him look like some sort of hound from hell, here to drag me with him deep beneath the earth to his home. To my surprise, König leans in and buries his face in my neck, breathing in my scent. A whimper falls from my lips. We shouldn’t be doing this. This shouldn’t feel so incredibly erotic, but it does and a sensation of liquid heat pools in my lower abdomen.
König shifts, and his leg ends up between mine, pinning me down. His knee presses between my thighs. I gasp. My hips move on their own, without my permission, rubbing against his thigh and seeking that delicious friction. From this angle, I can’t see him lift his mask, but seconds later I feel his teeth scraping against my pulse point. “König,” I whisper, tilting my head to the side to grant him better access. I should pull away. This is wrong, I shouldn’t want this. But when König grinds his hips into mine, letting me feel his pulsing erection, every rational train of thought goes out the window.
I turn my head, gripping his shoulder and capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. König tastes like cold beer on a summer night, crisp and refreshing with a smooth hint of malt bitterness. It’s not a dance; it’s a war. A fight for dominance. Our tongues tangling creates a battlefield, a clash of teeth and lips. It’s intense; it’s blazing; it’s dirty. My nails dig into his shoulder, raking down his back. Even through his heavy layers of uniform, I feel him shudder.
I hike my leg over his hip, pressing our pelvises flush against each other. König groans into my mouth when I start grinding against him. He’s rock hard. Sparks dance across the skin of my stomach as his hand tugs at the hem of my tunic, slipping under it. He grips my bare waist, pulling me closer. My hand travels north, fumbling with his helmet. The damn thing is in the way. I want his mask off. I want to see his face and run my fingers through his hair and kiss him without this piece of cloth in the way.
I slip my hand under his hood, brushing short, soft locks. Damn. I’ve always wondered what he looks like. Actually feeling his hair gives me an idea of how long it is; like a grownout buzzcut.
König growls at my invasive touch, pulling away from me. He takes both my hands in one of his and pins me down to the floor, wrists above my head. “Don’t do that,” he rasps, voice as rough as gravel. The command is clear: I'm not allowed to touch him.
If you'd taken a picture of König right now and shown it to me last week, I’d say it was photoshopped. Right now, he’s quite a sight. Uniform askew, tent in his pants, mask up on his nose and a wild look in his eyes. I have officially ruffled his feathers, as he has ruffled mine. I can only imagine what I must look like right now. Lips swollen, cheeks red, legs spread.
König holds my gaze as he lets go of my hands, though his heated glare makes me keep them above my head. My eyes follow his hands as he drops them in his lap, unbuckling his belt and slipping it through the loops on his waistband. He leans over, gathering my wrists together and locking the belt around them. I let him. I let him tie me up like a slut, frozen in place. König asserts dominance in everything he does. The way he talks, walks, commands armies. As he cages me in with his enormous body looming over me, everything about him screams dom.
My heart skips a beat when he leans forward, hands gripping my waist. König peels up my shirt, peppering kisses along my stomach. I stifle a groan. What is he doing? I think as he opens the button on my pants. Are we really doing this, as he tugs down the zipper with his teeth. This is unprofessional, as he slips my pants down my legs, along with my underwear. Oh, fuck! when he buries his face between my legs.
I cry out when his tongue dwells between my thighs, parting my folds and exploring me. König licks a long stripe, from my entrance to my clit. He swirls his tongue around the nub, wringing out my pleasure. It doesn't take long before he learns what I like. What makes me gasp, which spot makes my legs tighten around his head. He hikes them over his shoulders, granting him better access.
This is obscene. I'm getting eaten out by my Colonel. I can’t lie and say that I’ve never thought about it. It’s been a while since I’ve had any action. There’s not much time for that while on deployment. Every once in a while, maybe I could hit up one of the locals here, but there’s no fun when they're scared and miserable. Besides, most of them don't even speak English. I learned Arabic for this position, but that’s for work-related communication, not dirty talk. I prefer to keep that in English. Until now anyways. König mutters filthy things in German, growling the most sinful things with his face buried in my cunt. I can’t understand a word, but it does it for me.
One flick of his tongue on my clit. Two fingers plunging deep inside me, curling against my inner walls. “Come for me, schatz,” rasped in a rugged voice.
My hands strain against the rough leather of the belt holding them in place as I scream. My climax ripples through me, causing my muscles to lock up and my thighs to tighten around his head. “Fuck!” I groan when he pulls away, both of us panting like we just ran a marathon. That was the best orgasm I’ve had in years. My legs feel like jelly, still propped up on his shoulders. When I open my eyes, the sight I’m met with almost causes me to come again on the spot. König’s chin and mouth are revealed, glistening with my juices. His pupils are blown wide, and the bulge in his pants looks painful. He’s palming himself with his right hand, the left one still gripping my thigh. I’m going to have hand-shaped bruises decorating my skin tomorrow.
Now that the lower part of his face is visible, I spot a faint scar slashing his upper lip and disappearing under his mask on his left cheek. I wonder what kind of horror that brought it. Accident? Deliberate? Fight? It looks old. That has me thinking. How long has he been wearing his mask? I’ve never seen him without it, and we’ve worked together for around five years. He must’ve had a life before he became König. A name. A family. Does he have any relatives? Siblings, parents, kids… spouse. König doesn't wear a wedding band, but that doesn't mean that he’s not married. My gaze flickers down to his de-gloved hand, the one that was just inside me and is currently rubbing his crotch, before looking back up again at his face.
It was a mistake to look. To learn, to watch, to explore, to see the man behind the mask. König must’ve caught me looking because he quickly fixes his mask, hiding himself from me. “I wasn’t looking-” I insist, but it’s too late. “Shut up,” he cuts me off. The little fragment of vulnerability König allowed me to see is gone, replaced by his usual look of a guarded predator. Before I know what is happening, König is changing positions. He grabs me by the shoulders, flipping me over on my stomach. He’s not gonna let me face him. He’s shutting me out. Whatever. It’s not like we’re friends or even acquaintances. We’re colleagues, nothing more. Colleagues with sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, and are now acting on it. There’s always been the underlying factor of our attraction. Never has either one of us mentioned it, but it’s always been there, the lingering looks, the beat that my heart skips when I get paired with him. Whether it was from infatuation or fear. Furthermore there’s no reason to expect any kind of emotional relationship to bloom from this. I don’t know what this is yet, but it’s anything but romantic.
Still. Getting fucked from behind because they don't want to see your face stings.
My hands are bound in front of me, König’s belt tightly secured around my wrists. I sit up on my elbows rather than lying flat, lifting my hips and up on my knees. This is very much like the second position that we tried earlier. Is this what König was thinking about then? Fucking doggy? I hear rustling of clothing from behind me, indicating that König is undressing.
I want to look. I want to glance over my shoulder and get an eyeful of his body, his face, his soul. However, I know that if I do, this will be over. This fun moment of breaking the rules and letting go for a little while will stop and we’ll return to our duties as normal and never speak of this again.
König leans over me, getting into position. His weight at my back is oddly comforting. There’s just something about being close to someone much larger than yourself. He lowers his forehead on my shoulder, breathing me in. I must smell amazing with no perfume or deodorant and that poor excuse of a waxlump that we call soap out here.
I wait for him to push in, to fuck me. When nothing happens, I carefully call out to him. Did he change his mind? “König?”
He’s quiet for a long time. “I don’t have a condom,” comes his reply at last. Oh. He sounds surprisingly apologetic, and I can’t help but wonder if it is from the lack of protection or the fact that we’re about to have sex.
Sex. With my Colonel. I could be fired for this. If what we’re doing got out, it would end my career. I can’t trust that König wouldn’t say anything. While he doesn't seem like the type to go around bragging or gossiping, there’s a possibility that he won’t want to see me again after this and will kick me off the team. Fuck. It would destroy my life.
But when König bites down on the back of my shoulder, every priority in me narrows down to him.
“It’s okay, I have an IUD,” I inform him. I have no plans of having kids in the nearest future - and probably not the farthest one either. Having the UID was the most practical form of birth control for me, and not getting my period is a plus as well. There's nothing worse than being deployed at war except being deployed at war while you're menstruating.
König considers. Apparently that is good enough for him, because he splays his hand flat between my shoulderblades, pushing me down so my chest connects with the wooden floor. I gasp. He grips my hips tightly in his large hands. My eyes open wide when König lines himself up with my entrance.
Oh, my God.
König is a big man. That is obvious. He’s 6’10” and packing muscle, broad in every direction. It would be a given that he would be “packing” in other areas as well. My brain, however, had not made that connection. Neither my cunt, for that matter. The cock that is pressing against me right now is bigger than I've ever had before.
Will it even fit? My entire body locks up. König notices, because he pauses, giving me a chance to change my mind. “Tell me no,” he rasps in my ear. His voice is low and husky, pronounced by his accent. König won’t make a move without my consent. It’s up to me now.
The train of doubt left the station a long time ago. There’s no way we’re not doing this now. I'm aching, clenching on air. My nipples have hardened into sharp points that are scratching against the floor through the fabric of my uniform. I’m so turned on, I need some release now. “Yes, König,” I murmur, the words edged with impatience. "Yes–”
My consent is barely out of my mouth before König is pushing in, slowly stretching me out. Fuck, he’s big. My earlier release helps a lot, but it still stings. König goes slowly, letting me take him gradually. “Shh, schatz,” he whispers in my ear, sounding uncharacteristically tender.
Just when I don't think he can go any further, his hips buck, sinking into the hilt. “König!” I whimper, my mouth falling open in a soundless scream. He stills, letting me adjust to his size. I breathe deeply, and ever so slowly, the burning turns into pleasure. Unfathomable pleasure when König starts moving with slow roughness. I gasp. “Oh, God!”
The sound that escapes him is inhuman. It’s a growl that comes from deep in his chest, sounding almost primal. Once he gets the confirmation that I’m enjoying this, König unleashes himself on me. His thrusts intensify and his pace quickens. I can’t do anything but hang on for the ride. König has surrendered me to a panting and shaking mess, tears glistening in the corners of my eyes. He moves in and out, hitting spots inside me that make sparks of pleasure shoot up my spine and through my entire body. My second orgasm rushes through me, so intense that I almost black out. “König!” I yell, seeing stars behind my closed eyelids.
His answering groan is down right feral. König braces his hands on the floor beside my head, pounding into me from behind. His pace is brutal, fucking me with an intensity that leaves me a moaning heap of pleasure on the floor. He doesn’t stop, just keeps going until I no longer know where one orgasm starts and another ends.
König is close. He’s grinding his hips into mine, frantic and sloppy. His rhythm is erratic, driven on pure instinct. “Schatz!” he groans. “I’m gonna- come.” With one final deep thrust, he bottoms out and releases inside me. Hot spurts fill me up, creating a delightful sensation because I’m still sensitive.
We lay tangled on the floor, sweaty and panting. Not a word is exchanged. Both of us are trying to catch our breaths. Blissed out, reeling in our ecstasy. The air is filled with satisfaction, relief and disbelief. Did we actually just do this? Yes. We just had sex on patrol. I’m going to regret this later, but right now, I’m content to just enjoy the moment.
A few moments later, I feel König pull out and get dressed. His cum drips down my thighs. I hear him groan behind me at the sight. “That bad, huh?” I ask, already dreading cleaning myself up. I doubt he brought wetwipes. Ugh, am I gonna have to walk all the way back to base with drenched underwear?
“That good,” König corrects me, leaning over me to free my wrists from the belt holding them together. Then he rubs his thumb over the sore skin and helps me sit up. “Fuck,” I groan, rotating my shoulders. My muscles are sore from sitting still in an uncomfortable position for a few hours.
“Are you okay?” König surprises me by asking, producing some spare cloth from his bag. He helps me clean up, being more caring than I’d expect. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” I murmur back. I get dressed, but don’t get up from the floor. I have no faith in my legs to support me at the moment. König sits down beside me, both of us staring up at the stars shining bright above us, caught in the post-sex blurry haze.
“Well,” I huff. “I guess I can’t complain about night patrol anymore.”