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After escaping the function, Konig makes his way to his office. He’s not only tired, but shit... It’s dark and silent here. Here he can think. He can be alone, without any distractions. Not that he doesn’t like the soldier that is leaving, hence the celebration. but it’s all too much sometimes. Especially with how much of a mess his head has been of late. He sits down on the chair, completely enveloped in the dark of night. He's quiet and unmoving, just trying to ground himself. Quite contrarily, his brain is firing off a thousand times a millisecond. His mind is stuck on-
The door opens, a sliver of blinking luminosity stretching along the wall as a figure stands to the entrance of the room where he sits, looking around for him. He can see the shadow. It interrupts his thoughts. The only sound heard, as the door then closes, is his heavy breathing. Though, his heart beats so hard he can surely hear it himself. He stays still, as statue. Maybe if he does not move, they will not spot him, they will not speak to him , they will not-
“Colonel…”
Inwardly, he groans. Of course it’s you. Of course, of all personnel, you would be the one to notice he was gone from the small get together. You were too aware, of course, as medical, it was your job to pay attention to the little limps and winces of pain, taught to identify things before others could identify it for themselves. It would be unnatural if you didn’t apply that attentiveness to the rest of your life outside of your job. He wasn’t very hard to miss, in truth, his stature and domineering a force to be reckoned with in all aspects of life on base… but nobody, that is, save for you, would ever notice he’d left.
“ Colonel… Are you alright? I saw you leave. I just wanted to check on you."
Of course you did.
His chest rises and falls, a heavy exhale expelling itself from his lungs through his nose. His eyes, normally blue, but darkened in the absence of proper light, continue to stare into your own. At first, he says nothing. He, truly, did not expect you to come here and seek him out so quickly after he’d left.
He stirs gently.
“I am fine. “ His tone is dry. “There is no need to check on me. I am not a child."
His words make you falter a little, taking a small step backwards. His eyes flick to the movement. You nod your head in understanding. His heart seizes.
“Of course Colonel… I didn’t mean to come off as patronizing." You step back, hand resting on the door handle.
“I’ll see you for training, tomorrow afternoon." You say quietly, and your head hangs forward as you move to leave. His tone squeezes at your heart.
“No." Your head whips up, turning to him. His firm, sharp command cuts through the dense, tension heavy air between you both. Your legs halt in their tracks, almost against your own wishes, and you turn back to him, leaving you standing in front of him once again. You lift your head, and even though he sits in a chair, he’s massive enough that he is face level with you. You stare back into his gaze with curiosity.
“Stay. Please." He speaks lowly, so lowly, as if the command comes from someone else hidden in the room. But it’s only you too. And it’s only him who speaks.
He lifts his head a bit more, and his dark gaze flickers with a glimpse of something. Something you know all too well. Desperation. He didn’t want you to leave, not yet.
“I thought-"
His deep voice cuts you off.
“Please.” He asks again, implores even. He doesn’t want you gone. His voice is softer this time.
His hands tremble. He wants… no, needs you to stay. He needed to hear your voice, the soft lilt in your words, the sound of your breathing, you. Konig needed to be close to you, always, and it truly didn’t even matter if it was just sitting in the same room as you. Even that would be enough.
“Stay.” He asks again, for the third time. He needs to hear you say it, just one word of affirmation.
You deliver.
“Okay.” You whisper simply, softly, nodding your head. You let go of the door, padding back over to him on soft, quiet feet. You sit on the chair next to his, legs scraping against the floor so you can better see him.
“I’ll stay.”
Konig sits back into his chair, leather and springs absolutely wheezing under his stature. He’s surprised it’s held up this long. His heart pounds, fast, and if it weren’t for you sitting inches away from him, he’d wonder what ailed him and send for a medic… It would be you of course, given you were his medic.
His heart pounds faster, than it ever has before, a deep lump resting at the very base of his throat. In nothing but a shirt and your scrub pants, the way you sit on the chair gives him a great view of your body, and it’s something that’ll remain etched into his brain forever.
“Thank you.” He states quietly, genuinely, blue gaze flicking across your body before they rest on your face once again.
It’s an almost daily occurrence. Beneath the cover of his mask, he eyes you carefully, studying your face; the way your nose slopes gently, the sun spots dotting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, the way your lashes flutter any time they fall close or open. He’d deny it as distraction though.
He wants to reach out to you, to touch you, to feel you under his large hands oh so badly, but he doesn’t dare. The feelings, of both wanting to holding back and wanting to gather you in his arms and touch, kiss, taste you, are both equally as strong, pulling him equally at both ends of his control. He craves your touch, your skin against him, outside of fretting over split lips or black and blues. Even if only once.
There’s an incredibly obvious bulge in the front of his pants. He shifts in the chair, trying to hide it as best as he can. He avoids your gaze. Your own eyes widen as they pan down to the large expanse of his thighs. He’s so large, in clearly every aspect, that it’s hard to look around the space of the office and not have him in your periphery.
“Sir.” You say, voice not more than a sultry whisper. Heat blossoms throughout you, spreading like the flames of a fire being fanned eagerly. The gears start turning in your head. You swing your legs to the front of the chair.
“Is that because of me?” You ask, genuinely. You could be mistaken, but of course, you just want to be sure. Working in the medical field has taught you all about the spontaneity of the human body. Your words may be innocent, but he knows, more certain than anything, that there’s a gleam in your eyes.
Konig’s jaw clenches at your question, biting back the words he so desperately wants to speak out. He feels pinned to his chair from the way you look at him. His eyes are wide, like a true deer caught in headlights, slightly nervous, but apprehensive mostly, and he still cannot bring himself to look at you directly.
He stutters gently, tongue tied from the non homogenous mix of his anxiety and true desires, like oil and water.
“No.” He lies.
The Colonel is not a man who can lie to you. The man has spent almost as much time in your office bent over your table being stitched up, as he has on the field. Through conversation (the both of you) and fretting (you), you’ve come to learn, once again due to your scathing attentiveness, what ticks and what booms, and how he lies and tells the truth.
His heart beats faster, and his breathing statics laboriously. You keep looking at him. With those eyes that he gets lost in, with that gleam.
He can’t stand it anymore. His body reacts before his brain does. It’s not uncommon, but he’s protected by his size and strength on the field when he does so. Here, he’s bare, without protection, not immune, to you. His hand shoots out, gripping your smaller wrist tightly. The second his large, long fingers wrap around your delicate hand, a shiver races up his spine. It doesn’t go unrecognized, because one goes up yours as well.
You pout.
“That’s a pity.” You say softly, but you don’t move, letting your wrist stay still in his strong hold.
The skin of his palm burns where it comes in contact with yours, igniting every nerve ending inside his body. With a groan of the chair, he pulls you into him, close into his chest, and you scramble to sit on his lap. He’s so wide, truly, that your thighs scream with effort as they rest over his so that you can sit comfortably, facing him. Still, even with you on his lap, straddling him, he cannot bring himself to look you in the eye.
You take it upon yourself, to take the first bold step. Your colonel is a terrifyingly large, brawny man, that hides behind a hood and can snap men in two over his knee. But to you… he’s your friend, your patient in the med bay, and right now, you want him to be yours. Yours alone. You sit up on him, bracing it on his chest, and sit closer on his lap.
A growl inadvertently leaves his throat, the sound a low rumble as you crawl further into his lap, onto him. It leaves him almost speechless, almost all of his air rushing out of his body. He manages to get past the lump in his throat to speak to you.
“You.” He stutters lightly.
He can’t say anything else. The feeling of you sitting on his lap, the heat that rises from your body, your hand on his chest, everything. The sensations drive him insane, running up and around his body like an prey set loose.
“Go on, Colonel. Tell me.” You implore, in that soft toned voice of yours. He loves it, aching to hear it on a daily. It’s why he appears to trip and stumble on occasion during trainings or missions where you join him. So he can hear you fret in that lovely voice of yours as you flutter around his body, wiping his skin, stitching him as gently as you can, smoothing over his body if he has a knot. He can’t get enough of it.
A soft, shuddering exhale leaves his lips, and his hands move to your hips. He needs to feel you. They’re large, resting comfortably, albeit a little tight on your hips, keeping you pressed down weightily against him.
“What do you want me to say?” He asks gruffly. You tilt your head.
“What do you want to say? What have you been itching to tell me? To ask me?” You counter gently, and in another moment of boldness, shift your hips so that his bulge rests right beneath the crotch of your pants.
This shift, the movement, causes his brain to fizzle out. A shiver of pleasure rolls throughout his body like the beginning of a tidal wave. His tight grip is almost painful as he chokes back a grunt of surprise. He’s struggling, truly struggling, fighting against himself to focus, to keep his mind from blanking out and losing control to his desires. It wouldn’t be fair to you.
He tries to speak, to get out a comprehensible sentence, but all that escapes his lips is a soft moan.
“It’s alright Colonel. You can trust me.”
He groans. It’s something you say to him everytime he ends up there in your cramped medical office, bleeding all over your floor and non rule conforming pink scrubs (he’ll never tell you that he ordered the head of medical services to let you wear them, menacingly, because he liked the colour on your skin.)
“You can trust me.” You offer gently, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “I’m your medic.”
Hearing you declare yourself as his, in any true capacity, is enough to make his brain go haywire. The way you speak to him, look at him so sincerely, the way you fit perfectly on his large lap. He’s going mad.
He needs to touch you, with a want so unlike anything he’s ever been subjected to feeling before. When you put your hands on his shoulders, he inhales, sucking in air that burns his body like an inferno.
He tries, to his credit, to speak to you, to tell you, to voice what he wants, what he needs, but once again, in this space and situation where his brain is short circuiting and the feeling of you against him just drives him mad, he can’t bring himself to vocalize anything other than a soft groan. His hands slide from your hips to your thigh, gripping it tight enough for you to feel the indents in your skin. He’s desperate and hard, oh so hard, pants becoming painfully tight. His control was slipping. He’s losing the fight he’s not so sure he wants to win against his willpower.
“What do you need, Colonel?” You ask softly, letting his hand fall where they do.
He leans forward into your face, and finally, finally, speaks the words that you both yearn to hear.
“I need you.” He says lowly.
You nod, and his brows furrow as he sees your bright eyes blow out in sheer, unbridled lust.
“I’m going to take your hood of Colonel.” You say, giving him the chance to say no to you, should he want.
He clenches his strong jaw again, heart dam near leaping out of his chest in a mixture of nerves and excitement and anticipation that all jumble together.
“Yes.” He vocalizes breathlessly, just loud enough for your delicate ears to pick up on.
You divest him of his hood excitedly, placing it with are on the table behind him. You smile, bright, shining when you see his face. Being his medic, you’re no stranger to how the Colonel looks, being one of the only ones who have seen his face unmasked and uncovered. Everytime you do, you get excited. He truly is a beautiful man, with his sharp nose and soft blue eyes. His dark hair is sweated out and his pink lips tremble in anticipation.
The feeling it gives him, when you take off that hood and eye him hungrily, sets him off, sets his body on fire, ignites his very essential being. Konig stares up at you reverently, almost in awe, breathing through his mouth in an effort to try and ground himself.
His eyes are locked onto yours, blue, deep, intense.
“What do we do now, Colonel?” You ask earnestly, honestly wanting to know.
“What would you like me to do for you? How do you want me?” You finish gently, small hands cupping his strong jaw.
Your touch is damn near electric as your fingers caress his skin. He leans into your hand, eyes falling shut as he savours the feeling of your hands touching him.
“I want you.” He repeats, and although it’s simple, it’s not. It represents the multitude of his feelings for you, it travels back over the months and months he’s pined for you, wanted you. And you understand. Because you feel the same way.
You nod, understandingly. You lean forward, and press a teasing, soft kiss to his lips, before pulling back.
The feeling of your lips, even the slightest contact, makes his stomach flip and jump excitedly. He stares up at your face in a daze. Did you really just…?
“Do it again. Do that again.” He mumbles, eyes trained on you with an intensity unmatched by anyway he’s ever looked at you. He doesn’t want to miss not a second of what is happening, of what you are doing to him.
Ever the little minx, you take his chin, thumb slipping above it to pull his bottom lip down teasingly. A soft rumble leaves his throat at the action. Your eyes flick between his and his mouth, before you lean forward only a little, connecting your lips into a soul snatching, searing hot kiss. You tilt your head so you can kiss him even deeper.
A guttural moan sounds from deep within his throat, and it makes him sound desperate, needy. But all care and caution flies out the window when he feels you tilt your head to kiss him with more intent. Konig returns your kiss with intensity, hunger, passion, months of longing, wanting and lusting after you. His arms move to wrap around your body, holding you even tighter against him. He kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, pouring his every ounce of desire into your lips. It feels like he’s on fire. Your hands feel like heat as they travel his jaw and shoulders. It makes him dizzy with pleasure. His large hands roam across your body desperately, wanting to touch, hold and feel as much of you as he possibly can. A hand slips further up your thigh, gripping the flesh tightly.
You gasp against his lips, as his grip tightens. Your hands go to the back of his neck, and the other goes to his chest. He’s not wearing any gear, thank god, just a tight shirt, and you take it upon yourself to caress his pec before squeezing it gently. It leaves his breath hitching in his throat, the simple action driving him mad. He wants to feel more of you, everywhere. Konig grips you, devouring your mouth as he sucks life and pours it all back into you. His tongue doesn’t even seek permission, instead taking what he’s wanted, tasting and licking your pretty lips and your tongue.
A soft moan falls from your lips as his tongue tastes your mouth. His senses are in true overload, every single nerve ending in his body lit afire by your touch, your taste, you. He kisses you until he can’t anymore, until you’re both panting for air, breathing heavily. His eyes watch you, hazy and dark, as he stares at you with a semblance of ferocious intensity. He curses when you roll your hips into his, reveling in the whisper it draws from your lips.
You both breathe, catching your breath, and you stare at him. Your beautiful eyes, the same ones he loves to look into when speaking to you are blown wide by lust, irises almost inexistent. Your lips, pink and slick, both your saliva smeared across them. You’re a dream, a vision in his eyes.
“Colonel-“ He cuts you off. He wants you to call him by his name.
His eyes flutter close as he rests his forehead against yours. This whole situation, the sight of you sitting so quaintly on his lap, drives him mad beyond reason.It thrills him, truly, to be so close to you, to finally be touching you and yet, it’s not enough. He needs to taste you, to hear you, to feel you around him as his name rolls off your tongue in reverence. Like a prayer. Like he’s your deity and you a faithful follower. He’s dreamed about it, so many times that he can’t even recall if he’s ever had any other dreams. The very thought of you consumes him, body and soul, and he needs you. He digs his hands into your thighs again.
“Say my name.” He growls, and you gasp.
“Colonel-“ He tuts.
“Mein echter Name.” He whispers as he leans near your lips again. It’s not the first time he’s slipped back into his mother tongue, doing so during field missions or scolding a rookie- he’d even given you lessons on several occasions when you found yourselves waiting for an exile or orders. But never, ever has it sounded this good. The way it rolls off his tongue, curling around your ears and sinking into your body, it makes you moan.
“Konig.” You say softly, hand still caressing his chest.
It lowers down to where his shirt is tucked into his belt, and you tug it up slowly, revealing his muscular chest. His gaze follows as you do so, watching you toy with his utility belt and the bottom of his shirt. Your eyes sparkle mischievously. He’s got such a nice body, daresay perfect (from what you’ve seen), hardened by years of training and military exercise and exertion. He watches with a hungry look of his own, as you ogle him.
He grins, more like a grimace. He wants your hands on his skin. Konig sighs as he watches you practically undress him with your glittering eyes.
“Are you going to touch me, Schatz? Or are you going to ogle me like a piece of art in a museum?” He asks seriously and you hum. Your eyes rise from his large pectorals, hand hovering over the smattering of hair over them, itching to run your fingers against it.
“You could ask me nicely.” You say lowly, pouting, but you acquiesce his silent demand as your hands settle gently on his chest. He almost jumps out of the chair, damn near out of his skin. You were such a-
“Please, little one. Please touch me.” And you grin wickedly.
“Of course.” You say, with false properness, more of a seductive purr, and your fingers flex as they touch and squeeze. His pecs really are huge, just like the rest of him, and you squeeze them, dainty fingers trailing over his now hardened nipples. You pinch them, roll them between forefinger and thumb, and you roll your hips gently into his as you enjoy the honest moans that he gives you in return.
Every single pinch, touch, squeeze makes his body ring with pleasure. The feel of you groping his chest only further serves to get him rock hard under you. He loves how you care for him, caressing his skin with a softness like no other, and it leaves him breathless, moans falling from his lips. He is not a noisy man in bed, but like everything else, with you, it’s different. You have changed everything for him, in a way he can only hope for the better. He moans when you lean to press a kiss to his collarbone, gripping your hips in his humongous hands.
“Please don’t stop, sweet girl.”
You moan. Every name he calls you, every derivative of every cute nickname he can think of, does things for you. It swirls in your stomach as he praises you. You, relatively unexperienced, taking the lead on the man whose very essence is a leader.
“Never.” You absolutely whine, because as much as you feel pleasure blooming inside of you being in this very position and you want him to take you, you find yourself unable to take your hands off of him in this moment. Your hands trail down, tracing the deep lines of his abdomen. You rub your hands over his flank, enjoying the breathy moans and hitched gasps that it pulls from him. He’s so sensitive. You even go so far as to take your fingers and run them down his v line, before giving into your earlier wants and running a delicate, yet teasing finger down the trail of hair on his lower abs, that lead into his pants.
He hums, eyes fluttering shut as his head falls back into the chair. His grip on you, if it hasn’t already, is going to leave large finger sized bruises on your skin. But you don’t seem to mind. A hazy cloud of pleasure encompasses you both in this moment, to where you feel nothing but pleasure at every touch you bestow upon each other.
He’s hard, he’s been hard, but he becomes incredibly harder with every single touch of your little hands. Those hands that have patched him up when he’s gotten a serious bruise or cut. The same hands that stifled the blood pouring from him after a raid gone wrong. Those same hands, that he looks at every single time you’re near him, wondering what they would look and feel like, wrapped around his length. He’d dreamt of it on many occasions, going so far as to use his own hands and try to imagine yours. But it was never right.
Konig leans forward, with the intent of kissing you again, head falling into the crook of your neck instead as you scratch at his abs gently. He moans brokenly.
You tut.
“Not yet.” You pout. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for ages.” You say seductively, lowly, as your lashes flutter.
He can’t help but groan again. It’s all that seems to be falling from his lips at this time. The thought of you having wanted to touch him, just like he’s wanted you, for ages, makes a shiver run through him.
“Ages, little one? How long have you wanted to have me like this?” He speaks in a rough, needy rumble.
You moan.
“So long Konig. So long. But that doesn’t matter now. I have you here.” You moan out prettily, leaving his cock to jump in his pants.
Your hands fly down impatiently to undo the belt altogether, unzipping his pants. You reach into them to wrap your hand around his length. To nobody’s surprise, even though you cannot see it well, you know it barely wraps around it in its entirety. Konig moans. If you continue like this-
“I won’t be able to control myself.” He vocalizes the rest of that thought, blunt fingernails digging into the skin of your waist now. Your own shirt has risen up and he touches the sliver of soft skin that your choice of clothing has ever so graciously provided him.
“But I don’t want you to control yourself.” You say hotly, pulling his length out fully.
You can’t see it in its entirety from where you are positioned, his head tucked into your neck as his body leans against yours, but just as you imagined, he feels big. Hot and heavy, it absolutely weeps in your hand, precome leaking from it in steady drops. Your other hand foes up to caress the back of his head, almost placatingly, lovingly. It grips his hair, pulling his head back gently so you can speak into his awaiting ear.
“I’ve wanted you for so long Konig. The first time I was assigned as your medic, and I saw your body when you had your check up” You moan gently as your hand starts to move up and down his length, “ I knew I had to have you. To myself. I wanted, I want you so bad.” You whisper your soft words into his ear as you jack him off gently.
“You’re driving me mad, sweet girl.” He moans. You stutter out a moan, hand moving more earnestly. You grip him tighter, moving your fist with purpose.
“Do I make you feel good, Konig? Is this how you dreamed of me?” You ask, eyes dark behind your lidded gaze. Your smaller hand caresses the back of Konig’s head as you pleasure him.
“How long have you wanted me? How did you dream of me?”
“Always.” He answers without missing a beat- between your soft touch on his head, and your tight grip on his cock, he’s being reduced to an absolute mess.
He continues to grip you tightly, hands never leaving you, holding you as close to him as possible. The more you touch him, the more he feels his control slipping. His eyes borderline roll into his head as your touch sets him on fire. You feel good, so good. He vocalizes it.
A moan drops out of your own lips. Your hand, empowered by his borderline hedonistic reactions, moves faster, sweeping up and down his length fully. There’s a wet sound made by his pre, and it sounds absolutely filthy alongside both of your shared moans in the now stuffy office air. You pull his back gently- he could handle being manhandled, but despite how you crave the idea of seeing him dominated, you feel soft and melt into him. So you treat him nicely. You kiss at his exposed jaw, and cheeks and chin, admiring how his baby blues roll under his fluttering lashes, before finally connecting your lips. He keens. He loves the feeling of your swollen lips against his, and it pushes him to get back to feeling all of you. His hands roam over your body possessively, a silent claim that you’re his to touch. He gains enough self control to pull away from your lips, before trailing his own down your skin. A fierce possessiveness tears through him and he absolutely sinks his teeth, canines and all into the taut skin of your neck. You damn near yell in surprise, but before anything can be said, his jaw unlatches and soothes the sting of his bite with his tongue. You sob and cry as he marks you up. Oh, if you weren’t his before, with his fingers leaving bruises on your skin, you were now. The mark blooms deep and purple between your trap and neck and it pulsates angrily as he detaches from it. Your hand, the one pumping his length, grips him tighter when he does.
Your cry of both pain and pleasure sends a jolt of pleasure down his spine. It leaves him moaning into your skin as he worries the skin more with his eager lips. Though, as you grip him harder, he whimpers. A soft, almost delicate noise coming from the large mountain of a man you were currently humping into, the sound carries through your ears.
“Please don’t stop sweet thing. I need you- to keep touching me.” He murmurs. “Please.”
You nod in understanding, but in truth you feel like you’re losing your mind. The coil of heat rolls itself tight, deep beneath your belly. You bet you could come like this, rubbing yourself into your Colonel’s lap as you jack him off, the both of you moaning like whores. There’s a raised seam on his heavy duty pants that catches your clit through your panties and the thin, shitty material of your scrubs and it makes your head spin in a daze. You could come like this. You want more, you need more. You need it.
You let go, not missing his heady whine, before dropping to the floor on your knees. Konig damn near loses all sense. You look up at him from your position, your face in his crotch, and his cock, flushed and angry, bobs over your face. You get a good look at it now. Your stomach drops, but desire brings it back up so you can smile at him lasciviously.
“ Would you like me to put my mouth on it, Konig?” You ask sweetly, in a saccharine voice that makes his cheeks hot like he’s running a fever.
He curses. He’s a large, very large man, and would rather fight through a battlefield of hundreds of men on his own than to hurt you. But by god, yes, he wants your pretty lips on his cock. He has this almost false sense of deja-vu. He’s seen you like this on your knees dozens of times before, asking so pretty, so nicely, just as you did, to put your mouth on it. He’s seen it, he swears, in his dreams when he sleeps in his bed. It’s swum before his eyes during many, any times of the day, a lost look on his face as he imagines you sucking and moaning around him like the pretty fucking thing you are. He must have it. He’s been so close to it, but never this close.
“Please sweet girl- I’ve dreamt of you down there on your knees. Taking my big fat dick down your throat until you choke on it. So many times, sweet thing.” He grits out, hands finding purchase on the arms of his chair. You feel yourself drip at his words. You too, have dreamt of him, dreamt of yourself looking up at him from such a submissive position, letting him guide your head in hands so big they cover the width of your head, to his length. Your panties, without any doubt, are ruined.
A hand, covers his own on the armchair, and he moans at the gentle touch. Konig shifts in his seat, opening his massive thighs to accommodate you and never do his eyes leave your face. He’s quiet, watching intently as you position yourself between his legs. You’re nervous, he can tell, because you’re new to this. But he doesn’t say anything- you’ve taken reign and charge of him since you first entered this room, and something (if his dreams are any solid reference to go by) tells him that you’ve got this. After all, you had always been praised for your incredibly rapid adapting.
He’s shaken from his thoughts when you lean forward to kiss at his dick, gently, from his thick base surrounded by neat curls of dark hair, up his shaft that pulsates in need, to his weeping tip, where he curses when you lick his arousal. You’re so gentle and sweet in everything you do, in how you held him, how you spoke to him, how you got him off. He sighs through his nose. You are no ordinary woman. He knows, after tonight, he cannot go back to the way things were. He refuses to do so without you. You bring forth in him things he’s never felt for anyone before.
His hands fly to your hair as you try your best to take all of him. He’s so hot, hips tensing under you as you suckle and move your mouth earnestly, wanting him to feel what he’s dreamt of. What you’ve both dreamt of. It’s hard, he’s very big, but you’re enthusiastic and the shy clumsiness with which you suck him off makes him fall even harder for you.
“Oh you sweet girl. Look at you, taking my dick in that pretty mouth of yours. Oh how I’ve dreamt of this.” He looks down at you, moans and praises of your name falling from his lips. They come low and deep, his voice rumbling as you match his desperation.
Spit falls from the sides of your mouth where it’s stretched around what truly is an impressive length, but you moan and hum around him enthusiastically, like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. His smell, his taste, the feel of him heavy on your tongue and sliding down your throat, is nothing short of addictive. It renders you excited, your body thrumming with need for more; more of his praises, more of his dick, more of him.
Every nerve of his is on liquid fire, running over his body as he curses when you suck particularly hard. His hands grip your locks, not harshly, just to keep you in place. A throaty groan falls from him as your eyes meet his. They’re teary and heavy, but that same gleam, the one that drew him to you in the first place is still there. He truly loves how fucking cute and tiny you are compared to him, trying to take his fat cock down your eager throat. You’re cute, truly beautiful, and you’re his. He’s doomed to all hells because of you. He’d do anything for you.
You gasp and moan, eager sounds falling from your lips. You can barely sit still. Your hips shift as you feel your arousal deep inside you. It flares up, revving like a hot and ready engine, every time the man above you makes any noise. You bring your hands to grip it, moving along with your mouth to cover the rest of his length that you haven’t taken. Which to his surprise, is a lot. You’ve got most of him down your throat and he shivers as he sees the way it moves down your throat; skin taught every time it slides in. He moans. You move your hands to his meaty thighs, determined to get him to come with your mouth alone. He tenses up at that; a renewed, vigorous attempt to get him to come in your pretty throat. You pull off him, finally for much needed air, smiling at him almost dopily, before leaning back down to suck him back into your mouth. It’s filthy and fuck, he loves it. You’re making an absolute mess of him and the coil rounds itself tighter inside of him. His head falls back and as much as he wants to keep his eyes on your form under him, he’s losing the battle between his self control and himself. His hand pets your hair gently, moving with your head as you take him down your mouth.
“Du bist so gut darin, hübsches Mädchen.” He winces out, breathing into the hot air of the room. He’s so close, he knows it and-
You swallow, as best you can around his length.
He absolutely yells your name, as his release takes him by surprise. He comes, heavy and thick down your throat, one of his hands keeping you locked onto his dick as he comes hard, harder than he’s ever done before. The other finds the arm of his chair, gripping it so tightly that the wood shrieks and splinters under his grip. Stars fly past his open eyes, vision hazy as his release is pulled from him like a wave pulls back from the shore. His legs twitch under your grasp, hips jumping as you suckle the last of his come from his dick. He slumps back into the chair, completely overwhelmed and truthfully, shocked. He’s never come like that before. He tries his best to come back to reality, for his sake, for your sake, because he’s nowhere near done. He’s barely started.
Konig’s eyes widen as they look down onto you. You are a picture. You look utterly debauched, hair messy and wild from how he grabbed it, and his release drips from your lips. You swallow and his cock jumps. Your cheeks are red and your eyes are glossy as you look up at him, breathing heavily. In such a state, you nearly break him all over again. He sits up, a trembling hand cupping your pretty face as he swipes a thumb across your lips. He collects his release and sticks it back into your mouth. You’re so perfect, so pretty, even after having done such a filthy thing to him. He tries his best to regulate his breathing, wanting nothing more than to pull you up into his lap and take you there.
“Did I do good?” You ask shyly.
And god are you so sweet. You seek his confirmation that you’ve done a good job, as though he were not slumped back into his chair in front of you, sweating profusely. His heady gaze roams over your appearance. You look so fucking adorable.
“You,” He breathes out, trying to collect himself, “did so fucking good süßes Mädchen. Fuck, you have no idea how much I need you.” He grits out.
You smile gently, before pushing up to kiss him. He groans when he tastes himself on your tongue. It’s dirty, almost filthy even, but he wants it. He kisses you deeply, slick tongue entangling with yours, chasing the taste of his release and your lips. Possessiveness courses through him like bloodlust as he holds you tightly.
You whisper his name.
He can barely think straight, head swimming in your scent, your presence, you. He groans in response.
“I want… I want you please.” Where was your bold demeanor from before? You seem so small, so shy, like a little mouse his arms now.
“Want you to…” You trail off, cheeks burning as you try to verbalize what it is that you want him to do to you.
He can’t take his eyes off of you. Your burning cheeks, your fluttering lashes as you clearly struggle to say your very desires. He grins.
“What do you want, sweet girl? You have to tell me. I want to hear you say it for me, so I can give you everything that you want.”
You burn bright under his gaze. You want to tug at your collar, the very presence of your clothing on your almost suffocates you as you straddle him.
“Don’t be shy, süße Sache. Tell your Colonel want you want.” He grins toothily, like a shark interrogating its prey. “Tell me what you want. What you need.” He presses.
You squeal, and shake your head. What is this man doing to you? You hide into his chest, hiding away from his heated gaze. He can’t help but chuckle affectionately. Your sounds make you sound so cute, and he wants to hold you and never let go. He pulls your face up by your chin, lips brushing yours.
“Such a shy little thing.” He coos, mocking you, not unkindly though. “Why do you hide from me? I promise I won’t bite.”
His eyes fall upon the deep bruise on your shoulder, one that is sure to ache for days to come. He grins. Now that he’s regained his senses, he’s gone back to his teasing, commandeering, cocky self. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would find it overbearing but for him, and only him, it suits him well. You lean into him, breathing in his scent, still incredibly shy to ask for what you want. It’s not your fault… You’re not the most experienced in these things. He knows that. There’s a sense of pride that befalls him in knowing he’s the first one to touch you in this way, and he’ll make it his mission to be the last. The only.
He coaxes you, soft whiskery kisses along your jaw and cheeks, teasingly brushing over your lips with no connection. He wants to hear you say it. There’s something about verbalizing, professing your wants and desires for him that will just do it for him. He needs the confirmation that you want him to touch you, to take you.
“Come now, little one.” He downright purrs into your ear, and you swear you become human putty. “Don’t be embarrassed sweet girl. I cannot give you what it is that you want if you don't tell me.” He murmurs and you gasp. His accented words fall heavy over your body, strumming the growing heat even more.
“I’m nervous.” You say softly, honestly, and he can’t help but coo again. You’re so sweet. It’s driving him crazy.
“Nervous of me, pretty girl?” He asks and you shake your head. “I won’t tell you no. You can trust me.”
He rubs large comforting circles into the skin of your hips and back, soothing you and your clearly frazzled nerves as best he can. He can feel the need stemming off of you.
You whisper lowly into his ear, eyes teary with hazy pleasure. “Want you to… eat me out, Konig.” You say softly, quietly, like it’s a secret between you two, for only his ears to hear. His lips bare his teeth in an almost maniacal smile, one that you can feel against the skin of your neck.
“Is that all, sweet girl? Is that what rendered you so shy, so quiet?” He whispers, voice rough.
You nod, placing your head on his shoulder. He’s speechless for a moment. He knows you are unexperienced, but this just brings an even sweeter side to it. You’re ripe fruit, and he is ready to take, bite, taste. He feels excitement building up within him. God, he was going to ruin you. He wraps his arms around you tightly, forcing your chin up to meet his gaze.
“Sweet, sweet thing.” He says, possessive eyes locking with yours. “You’re so perfect. I’ll give you what you want. What you need. Always and forever sweet girl.” He promises, and you melt into him. You hum contently, lips kissing down his strong, thick neck.
“I only want you Konig.” You say. You shift in his lap, out of pure anticipation. You’re so wet, you’re surprised he cannot feel you. He laughs. He’d call you impatient, but he wants you just as bad, and you were so good for him earlier on. You’re so needy. You pout. He grins.
“On the couch sweet girl. Let me give you what you want.” He orders you, leaving you to jump up eagerly to do his bidding.
Your body trembles with excitement, shuffling over to the couch on the other side of his office. It’s large, it has to be, after all it has to fit a man his size, and you sink into the material as you eye his form. Your mouth goes dry as he saunters up to you, heavy cock swinging between his legs as he makes his way over to the couch. He’s so large, everywhere, tall and domineering and my god if you weren’t excited before, you absolutely were now. You wiggle your hips gently, in anticipation.
“Such a needy little thing.” Konig says, grinning that smile that shows his sharp teeth. “You want me that bad sweet girl? You want my mouth on that pretty pussy of yours?” He asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.
Two large hands tug gently at the shirt you wear, pulling it up and off your body. A low, appreciative rumble flows from his parted lips. There’s no hiding the effect that seeing your body has on him. He puts one large knee on the couch beside you, looming over you as you gaze up at him.
“You’re so beautiful. So perfect for me, such a sweet girl. You’re so eager for it too… I am going to have so much fun with you.” He murmurs to himself and you clench around nothing at the sound.
“You think so?” You ask shyly, almost coyly and he grins.
“I know so.”
He can tell your boldness from earlier is gone, and yet it doesn’t faze him, not one bit. You blush softly as your hands reach up for him. He lowers himself to you, allowing you to slide your fingers over the large, thick expanse of his muscular back. He shivers as your nails scrape the skin there. His face is inches from yours as he speaks lowly, trapping your body beneath him.
“I like you like this, you know? Blushing like butter wouldn’t melt in that pretty, talented mouth of yours. My shy, sweet girl.” He murmurs appreciatively.
He can’t help but tease you, would it be any fun if he didn’t?
“Everything about you drives me just mad.” He speaks again, a large hand cupping your breast through your bra.
His head dips into the crook of your shoulder to suckle and nip at the unmarked skin there. You gasp, back arching almost instinctively, pushing your breast into his touch. You feel so naughty, lying here under him, waiting for him to drop to his knees and devour you. He loves the feeling of you under him like this.
You moan out breathily.
“I’m going to give you what you want little one. I always will.” He promises into your skin, as he moves and kisses down your soft body. His hands grab the waist of your scrub pants and tug them down and away, tossing them who knows where. He lifts his head, gazing up into your eyes with a smirk. Your eyes widen as he descends, face hovering above your dripping cunt. He inhales, and you almost squeal at such an erotic sight. Kong growls.
“I’ve been wanting to taste this sweet pussy of yours forever, und du wirst mich lassen.” He finishes in German, kissing the inside of your thigh.
You smell heavenly, whatever body wash you like to douse yourself in flooding his senses with a scent that just screams you. You stutter out a moan as he pulls down your panties, stuffing them in his back pocket. He doesn’t even need to spread your legs, not when you’re so eager; they fall open for him immediately, and his heart almost stops beating. His gaze zeroes in, brain trying to catch up with what he sees below him. A tiny glint of metal bounces off your clit in the low light of the room. He’s fixated, and he tries to think of what to say. What can he even say?
He moans instead.
“You are going to kill me.” He says wrecked, resolutely. You breathe in harshly.
“Do you like it, Konig?” You whisper, a small hand traveling down your body to touch it. It’s halted mid thigh by one of his own, and he holds your hand to the couch.
He can’t even take his eyes off of it. He’s rock hard, again, at the sight of your most intimate parts pierced and decorated. Fuck, you were going to kill him. And what a way to go.
He finally looks back up at you, and his eyes are blackened with possessive lust.
“I don’t like it, sweet girl. I love it. You’re so- Diese hübsche Fotze wird noch mein Tod sein!” He hisses between his teeth, and he cannot hold himself back anymore.
The hand that doesn’t hold yours reaches up to play with it gently, so as to not startle, nor hurt you. He rolls it, flicks it, tugs on it and your arousal grows with every movement. He watches in what can only be described as unadulterated awe as your slick drips from your weeping cunt, falling from it to wet his couch below. He cannot even bring himself to give a fuck.
“Do you like that, sweet girl? I can see you dripping when I play with this pussy.” He speaks lowly, excitedly. You nod.
“Feels so good. Feels good when you play with me.” You whisper back, biting your lip gently.
You rock your hips against his hand, stuttering a moan as his thumb brushes your clit. Your soft words send a shiver of absolute need down his spine; and he cannot wait.
“Come here, and let me taste this cunt.” He orders gruffly, gripping your hips and sliding his mouth against your folds.
Konig lets out a low, rough moan as he smells, feels you against his lips. His tongue darts out to taste you, to get a taste of what he’s been craving from you for so long. Your delicate taste makes his mind spin deliriously, eyes fluttering shut as he moans against your slick, heated flesh.
“This pussy tastes so good, sweet girl. So perfect, just like how I dreamed.” He mutters into you, lips and tongue sucking and kissing in tandem, mixing with your slick as he eats you out like a true man starved.
“Oh god. So good!” You whimper. Never, have you ever felt like this. No man has ever done to you what this man is doing to you know, licking expert stripes up your pussy and sucking your clit, as you bump and grind your hips against his face. He’s making out with it, kissing it and tasting it like his life depends on it. And, if the moans are anything to go by, he’s enjoying it, almost, if not more than you are.
König groans against your slick cunt as he hears you whimper, long tongue licking around your opening and fucking into you as you squeal. He absolutely loves the way you react to him, to his every movement and touch. He loves that he’s pleasing you.
“I could spend all night like this, sweet girl. Eating this pretty pussy, making you moan, tasting how delicious you are.” He just might. He’s not sure where the rest of the night will lead, but right now, his focus is zeroed in on feasting on you. His eyes open as you curse, roaming hungrily over your taut body.
“Fuck, König!”
Tears fall down your face as you cry. Legs hooked over his shoulders, teary eyed, the noises sounding from deep in his throat and sounding up from your dripping pussy, you’re sure you must be a sight. He can feel how much you’ve wanted, no needed this, in the way you desperately grab his auburn locks and push him into your cunt. His mouth moves against you with renewed vigor; the way you clench around his tongue tells him you’re close, so close, and he feels himself stir. He might come just like this, from feeling you come on his mouth.
You gasp and shudder, heat building up inside you at an embarrassingly fast pace. You’re close, so close and your back arches as your mouth falls open in a silent scream, when he sucks particularly hard at your clit, before rolling the piercing with his tongue. He growls.
“Are you close, sweet thing? Are you going to give me what I want?” He asks, large hand squeezing your ass tightly. You gasp loudly.
“Yes, Ko!” You whimper out, sobbing, tears streaming down your face as pleasure begins to wind up in you so tight, you can barely breathe. He moans again. You’re on the brink, so close- and right when you start gushing around him, he slides two large fingers deep into your cunt, curling his fingers just right, to where you see stars.
“Oh!” You absolutely wail into the air, head falling to the back of the couch as you come, hard.
Your eyes flutter shut as he pulls and coaxes your orgasm from you, body shaking and trembling. It’s everywhere, dripping down his chin, onto the couch but he doesn’t even care. You cry his name in a choked sob as he eases you, soothes you through the fireworks with the expert pull of his tongue and his two fingers crooking up against that spot. You look so fucking beautiful like this, body gyrating and trembling above him as you come down. He watches in awe, you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He’s finally getting you as he wants, all to himself, in every way. He pulls back when you whimper from overstimulation, and in truth, he’s not sure if it’s from how hard you came, or the deep rooted want, need of you, but he rushes to sit up and kiss you, hands moving up your body to wrap around your waist. His tongue caresses yours as you regain your senses, hand coming to cup his jaw. You both moan as you taste your release on his lips, and you slump into him, practically boneless.
“My god.” You whisper incredulously.
He pulls back to grin, pulling at your lips with his teeth.
“Not quite, sweet girl.” He jokes and you huff a smile.
You both take a moment to just savor the feeling of each other. You’re warm, and so soft, and he loves how well it fits against him. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. You hum in response, eyes dropping down to see how hard he is. Your hand reaches out and strokes him gently.
“Mmm.. Sweet girl, you cannot contain yourself. Already wanting more?” He murmurs and you nod expectantly. He grits his teeth.
Konig stands up to his full height, before yanking down and kicking off his pants impatiently. He’s finally all naked, and his dick hangs hot, heavy and ready between his massive thighs. You purr in appreciation. He doesn’t wait, before kneeling over you once more, his intentions not far off from before. You watch hungrily as every move he makes, and every breath he takes rolls through his body, sinewy muscle shifting with every moment. This is a man that could crush you with his bare hands and yet he holds you like you’re the finest of all chinas. His eyes fixate on yours, searching them for any ounce of uncertainty or hesitation. He’ll be no easy man to take.
You answer his unspoken question.
“I’m ready Konig.” You speak his name softly, with a cute tilt to your head.
He slides his hands up and over your body, just feeling you. A large one rests on your hip, and the other one leaves your body, almost regretfully, but not for long. He pumps his length in his hand, before leading it to your entrance. He presses forward, inching against your dripping pussy. The head slips in and you let out a breath of air you didn’t even realize you were holding. Konig leans forward to capture your lips in a hot and heady kiss. Your eyes roll back into your head, a pained gasp leaving your mouth as he pumps his hips forward and backwards, each thrust slicking his dick up with your arousal and allowing him to go in further. You feel undeniably stuffed, full, stretched to a limit you didn’t even know you had. He shushes you.
“It’s alright sweet girl, relax for me.”
You groan, looking up at him with teary eyes.
“It’s so big.” You whimper and he bites your lip before smiling softly.
“ I know it is, mein süßes Mädchen. It’s so big, isn’t it? But you take it so well.” He coos, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck.
Your lidded eyes are trained on him as the pain gives into pleasure, surrounding and consuming you like the brightest light of an undying flame. Konig watches with intent as he bottoms out in you, your hips jerking at the sensation of his fat length so deep inside you. He loves how your lashes flutter, and the way your spit slick lips open to moan his name. He can barely think, all of his senses consumed by you. He takes it as a sign to start moving.
You purr and squeal as he fucks into you, a solid pace. His hips snap forward and drag backwards with expert precision and he’s so big inside you that it doesn’t matter when, you constantly feel him, dragging his length across your every intimate spot. He cannot get enough of the noises you make, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow as he fucks you earnestly. You’re tight and hot around him, and he finds himself unraveling quicker than he expected to. Heat licks up his spine and he curses loudly as you clench around him. A ring of your shared arousal coats his cock.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” He bites out, head falling forward to suck a nipple into his mouth.
You moan whorishly, gripping the couch for purchase so you can knock your hips back into his. It does the job… all too well. You squeal as he reaches inside you, deeper than before, cock nudging its way so deep your poor pussy can’t help but grip it like a lifeline.
“ Du wirst mich noch umbringen, du Verführerin.” He says, more like whines, eyes falling shut as he feels your slick cunt around him.
You smile breathlessly. Oh, you didn’t even know how much of a temptress you were. Folded under him as he slings your thighs over his broad shoulders, pussy drooling around his dick as he fucks you with abandon, tits bouncing with every hard thrust, cheeks burning and eyes full of desire. Fuck, you’re a dream. You’re more than just a dream, you’re actually his now and he’d fight gods to keep it that way.
You realize that you’re making a mess. Every thrust leaves you dripping more and more arousal onto his dick, dripping down off the both of you and onto his couch. It’ll be annoying to clean, but honestly, who even gives a fuck? Not him, not when his pelvis is tucked against yours so closely, when he feels your slick cunt grip his dick every time he slides out. You whisper and moan breathless pleas and gasps of his name against his skin. That’s all he cares about.
His grip on your body becomes tighter. Desire pools deep in his abdomen as he starts to fuck you harder, and the couch, starts to moan and creak itself. The sheer power in which he jackhammers himself into you is almost unbearable, leaving you wailing and crying as you cream all over his dick, but it feels to good to ask him to stop. Not when he’s so good to you, lost in the sensation of the prettiest girl he can finally call his. You shudder and groan. Konig growls choppy obscenities through his clenched teeth, movements only spurred on by how you look up at him through those teary eyes.
“Look at those pretty tits bounce, sweet girl.”
“Your pussy is so tight, süßes Mädchen!”
“Look at this mess your pretty pussy is making.”
His words only serve to make you hotter, wetter, and you can barely speak. Your head falls back.
“So good!” You slur out, body weak and trembling as it clings to him tightly.
He loves your touch. He wants to feel you everywhere. He wants you, your scent, your taste, your very essence to stain him, deep under his skin like the ink of a tattoo. He wants you in ways that words can’t even begin to describe. But when he looks down at you, he realizes he doesn’t need to speak right now.
You tense up, eyes widening as a rapid wave of pleasure begins to rear back in your body. “K-Konig, I-“
He hushes you, pressing pecks to your pretty lips.
“I know sweet thing, I can feel you clenching around my fat dick pretty girl.” He speaks against your lips breathlessly.
And he’s close too, the very sight of you sending him into overdrive, combined with the feeling of you hot and slick and squeezing around him- he’s not going to last long either. He brings a big thumb to your clit, tugging on your naughty piercing, before rubbing at you harshly. You arch your back, eyes rolling into your head.
“Come for me, pretty girl. Come on my dick. Come on my dick while I fuck you.” He grits out and you can only whimper.
Your release washes over you as you come undone, shaking and trembling in his arms. It’s the most incredible feeling, and he tightens his hold on you as he comes hard. It fills you up with every thrust of his hips, so much so that it begins to spill from around where your pussy swallows him, and down onto the couch. Konig lets out a sinful groan at the feeling, thrusting once, twice, before sinking back into you deeply. You fall limp in his arms, trying to catch your breath as you come down from your explosive high.
He looks at you, admiration and appreciation for you as he rakes over your tired body in his arms. You took him so well. He presses a kiss to your forehead. In an easy move, he sits on the couch, ignoring the feeling of your slick beneath him, and still inside you, positions you to lay on his chest. You’re tired, body drooping all the same as your eyes, and you hum contently.
“You took me so well, my sweet girl.” He praises softly, large hand running through your hair. “Let us stay like this for a moment. Let me savor this.” He speaks to no one in particular. A sense of contentment washes over him as you hide into his chest, body relaxing.
You feel like you’re floating on a cloud of ecstasy, serenity and a multitude of other things, but relief is at the forefront. How you’d pined and lusted over the big man beneath you, and here he was, after having fucked you swell, claiming you. There could be no better thing.
You smile sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to his chest as you doze off comfortably in his hold.