Chapter Text
The sun was setting through the verdant green leaves of the trees, beams of light sparkling through them, casting light and shadow on the forest floor as you raced through the underbrush. You were bending your feet, sprinting in the way that he had taught you, nearly silent as you leapt across rotting boughs and piles of fallen leaves. Controlling your breathing, you found a tight pace - fast enough to escape, but restrained enough to withstand it for a generous duration. The air felt sharp in your throat.
Captain Price had taken you on as the newest recruit to the 141. Many recruits had come before you, and many had failed to pass muster. So, here you were, top of your class in Westpoint, but young and unblooded, trying to keep up with the most fearsome group of hunters in the modern world. Terrorists filled the world with fear, and John Price filled them with fear in turn. He was the monster’s monster, and you were desperate for him.
When you’d first laid eyes on him, you were intimidated by his sharp confidence. He was snappy, impatient, but level-headed. He had his power under such a tight-laced control that you would have given anything to watch him unleash it on someone. A dark part of you wanted that someone to be you. When you sparred, he was ruthless. Soap was fun to wrestle, even if he let you win. Gaz was a challenge, but a fair fight. Even Ghost had let you get the upper hand once or twice, but Price had shown no mercy. After the captain was finished with your body, you’d go back to your quarters battered, bruised, and sore for days. He’d even dislocated your shoulder once in order to break your hold, and then he’d had the audacity to shift into a caring medic, helping it back into its socket, bringing you ice and meds that night, checking on you before rounds in the morning. He was enigmatic.
You had gotten your hopes up, that was the problem.
One night, you were putting in a late workout at the gym, fists digging into the heavy bag, trying to improve on your power and speed. Trying to get him out of your head, more like. Your handsome commanding officer and his huge, hairy, muscular form had been haunting you for weeks in the night while you lay in your bed alone. The smell of his cigars was enough to send shivers through you at this point. So, you came to work off some steam. It didn’t help.
You had wanted to shower after your self-flagellation session with the punching bag, but when you went to the locker room, your heart froze. The water was already running. Since no one had been in the gym with you for hours, that wasn’t possible. You were facing the door the whole time…well, most of the time. But no one moved that quietly. You would have heard them.
Thinking someone had left it on, you moved to shut it off. A voice stopped your hand right on the edge of the cold handle. Low and growling, you heard your name come from behind the wall, floating out from the shower. Haunted and in a state of shock, you stood stock still, listening for it to happen again. You took a breath and pulled open the stall door to find Price’s broad, scarred back, hunched forward in what may (or may not, damnit) have been a contortion of ecstasy. He’d spun around to catch his intruder, but you had already turned back toward the gym door, sprinting for your life out of the bathroom. You went to bed sweaty and wet for more reasons than one.
It was his idea to drag you out here. The rest of the team had remained back at base, but Price had decided to take you on a solo helicopter flight out to a remote Hebridean island, uninhabited and cut off from the public, completely alone.
You had geared up for the weather, anticipating the slight cold front, but Price had added a level of challenge to your first field trip that made you concerned. He had only allowed you to bring one set of clothes. You’d be out for four days - if he didn’t find you before then. Four days was a long time to wear the same underwear and socks. Especially now, at the middle of day three, you were noticeably pungent. You’d also finished off your canteen this morning, so as you moved through the wooded hills, you mapped the path to the closest stream. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for evading Price for this long. You wanted to make it the full four days. Maybe he’d even consider giving you a more permanent position. You kept losing every single grappling match, but you scored high on your marksmanship testing, and your survival skills were top notch.
Rushing, bubbling water came into view as you headed into a small glen. There was a gorgeous waterfall waiting for you, and you couldn’t wait to bathe. It was a huge risk, but you were itchy enough to take it. You quickly shed all of your layers and scrubbed them in the clean, cold water with loose gravel, trying your best to rub as much grime out of them as you could. Then, you laid the clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun and slowly waded your way into the water. It was cold enough to burn, but you had to admit that even the frigid water felt nice on your skin. Quickly, you washed your face and body, keeping your braided hair out of it as much as you could, splashing your breasts and rubbing between your thighs for some relief on your most sensitive parts.
Satisfied, you returned to the shoreline. You blinked, stunned, finding the rocks bare and missing your garments. All of them. Your heart raced in your chest. Your hunting knife was stuck straight up on a nearby stump, placed there on purpose.
Price.
He’d seen you in the water. Why was that your first thought? You bolted in the opposite direction, not caring any longer to move silently. You thought you might be able to outrun him, but just as you were about to clear a fallen log, you were tackled to the ground, your breath knocked out of your chest. Instincts high, you fought for your life, kicking and clawing at your attacker. He was fully geared out, and his clothing made rough scrapes against your skin as he clutched your back to his chest, wrapping his hand around your throat and an arm around your waist.
“Fuck! No!” You shouted, unsure as to what you thought that might accomplish.
You heard a dark chuckle in return,
“Thought you got away from me, little bird? Hope that bath was worth it.”
He flipped you so that you were laying face-down on the ground, his heavy body pinning you, squeezing the air out of your lungs that you had fought to recover.
“Give up, Sparrow. You’re caught,” he growled, fighting with your writhing form.
“No! No…I was so close,” you stilled, finally giving in, disappointed in your failure, laying your forehead in the sticky leaves.
“Yes,” his voice had an eerie, sultry quality to it, and that surprised you. Your body responded, melting into him, trying to determine his intentions. He spoke into your ear softly, “You did so well. But, I knew you’d need water, and all I had to do was wait. I didn’t expect you to reward me quite as well as you did, but that was a bloody nice surprise.”
He punctuated that last sentence with a buck of his hips and then you felt it. You had thought it was his holstered gun that was digging into the crack of your asscheeks, spreading them uncomfortably wide. It was too rigid to have been any part of his anatomy, surely. But, you were wrong. The heavy, solid pipe that was rutting against your ass was Price’s impossibly fat cock.
You gasped, involuntarily.
“Mm,” he was smiling; you could hear it, “Hard as a stone, innit? All your fault, birdie. You out there in that fuckin’ stream, grabbing your tits for me in the water, running from me so I can watch this gorgeous arse jiggle. Tha’s like teasin’ a hound with a bone, sweetheart. My cock’s aching for ya.”
“Captain, we can’t…we - ”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he snarled, shouting. The sudden increase in volume made your blood run cold, and your pussy clenched down tight, traitor that it was. He started to grope your asscheek roughly, talking to you the whole time, “You’re caught, and if I was the enemy, you’d be watching Peter look your name up in his big book right about now. So, I feel like your punishment should fit the situation.”
You couldn’t help but shiver. He was right, you were out here all by yourselves. There were no comms, and the seaplane wouldn’t dock back here for another day. If Price wanted to hurt you, he had all the time in the world, and you were in no position to fight him off.
“Yes, sir,” you muttered, listening to your own shaky whisper with shame.
You heard a buckle and a zipper, and then you felt a tell-tale warmth against your skin. He was rubbing his length across your body, hungry and dripping with precome. You breathed in through your nose, trying to hold back your shock.
“Say no, little bird. Tell me to stop. Say that you surrender, and I’ll take you back to the camp and warm you up. I’ll put you on that plane and send you back to New York with a letter of recommendation in hand. You have my word. Or…”
He paused for a long time, waiting for you to take it. You should. It was no small accomplishment to get a letter of recommendation from a man as infamous as Captain John Price. But, something in you wanted a punishment more than a reward.
“Or?” You asked, your voice sounded so small.
It was his turn to draw in a trembling breath. You felt the whiskers of his mustache brush the side of your neck as he tasted your skin there, sucking hot kisses and sending chills across your back.
“Or…” he replied, “I will fuck you right here into the goddamn dirt, and every night, when I get hungry for you, no matter where our task force goes, you’ll take my fucking cock how I want, whenever I want, no questions asked.”
You let his threat sink in. How could he expect such a heinous, feral thing? Did he want you on the task force? A thousand questions flooded through your mind, but you heard yourself saying,
“Okay.”
A warm, fleshy head prodded at the entrance of your cunt, slipping through your folds and spearing you, almost painfully, with his difficult girth. His cock was so fat that you could feel your walls expand to fit him, panicking at this new level of intrusion and flooding you to try and mitigate the situation. He let out a ragged sigh,
“Oh, fuck, that’s so good. Tight, so bloody fuckin’ tight,” he laughed quietly, a tone of disbelief on his lips, “Welcome to the team, little bird.”