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if looks could kill right now, stratt would be wanted for about two-hundred deaths. even despite her glaring, no guest seems to be taking a hint, and they all continue to try to talk to her about anything pertaining to the petrova taskforce. (“how's funding?” it's the reason for this headache. “you should probably—” no, that'd be a bad idea. “i could help with—” no, you'd have been recruited already. “what do you think of—” ask the crew, not stratt.)
you think she might actually snap at the glass she's drinking from in half, at this rate. you're tempted to chase them all off, but if stratt's not telling you to, you can remain quiet for just tonight and inconspicuously admire her.
instead of her regular turtlenecks and raincoats, she's wearing a navy dress with a high collar that goes down to her low heels. the fabric is matte and expensive-looking. you think it must've been tailored specifically to her; it follows her curves perfectly without over accentuating them. her hair is down, like always, with a hint of some shampoo that smells woody in it. it's her go-to for special occasions, you've noticed.
her jewelry is simple, made to match perfectly with her dress. some small golden earrings and a golden necklace, featuring a piece of lapis lazuli hanging from it, diamond shaped. that kiana, her stylist, did a perfect job. you'll be sure to send her some chocolates or something if you find the time. stratt looks incredible. she's always pretty, but you're having to be careful to not just ogle her right now.
you don't look bad yourself; a pristine white blouse with lace covering the fabric, and a blazer jacket that looks kind of like a bartender's, just a bit prettier. it ends at your shoulder, giving you enough movement options if there's an emergency. the tie is sitting below it, and you think it's covered in the same lace pattern as your blouse, just in black.
staring at stratt is much more enjoyable than staring at yourself, though, so you're not fully sure.
the dress pants, widening slightly at the hems of your feet, are made of the same material as the blazer. it all feels quite comfortable. the gloves that end at your wrists, too, but the middle and ring finger on your right hand are covered by some kind of metal talon or claw. your left index finger, too, for the sake of asymmetry. it's fancy, but doesn't impede your grip, so you leave it be.
to match stratt's necklace, there's a clip on your tie that connects, by chain, to the nameplate on your breast. it doesn't read your name, though, just ‘STRATT’ in a thin font.
it reminds you a bit of your collar, but since her other personnel have the same thing, it's not as meaningful. you still like it, though. it reaffirms that you're hers, but professionally, for now.
you hear ilyukhina's guard in your earpiece. ‘maybe that could be the last?’ followed by a quick ‘no way!’ from her. you look over to see her thoroughly enjoying the free drinks. she's got a boyish look, suiting her well. good for her. the mic is turned off, but you can still hear what the others are saying.
you look toward stratt again. she's somehow even more annoyed. hmm, that's a minister of foreign affairs, right? you can't remember what country he's from, but he speaks with an eastern european accent. “well, i'm looking forward to the finished product. to humanity!” he toasts. stratt just stares.
oh dear, you think. he clears his throat and leaves.
“madam,” you whisper. “let's take a break?”
she's usually polite enough to at least respond to politicians like that, but she's entirely silent. she just gives you a curt nod, and lets you lead the way to a private bathroom.
once inside, she sighs deeply and rubs at her temples. you take her drink and set it down on the counter. she lets her shoulders fall, eyes following, just trying to soothe herself. you make a mental note to keep to dark and quiet places for the rest of the week. you watch as she leans against the door, nearly sinking into it. these large events always take too much of her already low energy.
you look at your watch. 5.35. this get-together was set to end at 7, so it was still going to be a while before any real respite came. you think very hard about what to do next. you lock the door, and reach for the back of stratt's dress, holding her zipper.
you peer at her, voice low and hushed. “may i?”
she opens her eyes, hesitates, then sighs softly. “yes.” her hands reach out to hold your waist closer to her.
you pull down the zipper halfway, until it's somewhere in the middle. then, you gently tug down the navy dress, making sure it's sitting prettily below her chest. she's wearing a thin bra to not interfere with the shape of the dress. you draw a mental line of up to where her dress will cover the marks you want to leave. three-fourths of her neck, just about. plenty of space.
you know you can't make her as loud as you'd like to, so you focus on just buttering her up for now. licking at the side of her neck, tilting her head for better access, and kissing down towards her chest, sucking at her pulse point.
“it'll be alright, stratt,” you whisper. you hope the comfort helps, making your hand bring her body ever closer to yours. “i'd be happy to reward all of your efforts later.”
you run your hands along her chest, rubbing your fingers over her breasts while you suck hickies into her skin. she can't tell if you're trying to soothe or tease her, but she finds herself thinking that either option would be just fine. based on your words, though...
you kind of wish you had lipstick on, just to mark her a hit more. she's already yours, entirely, but when you see the deep pinks and purples you leave, you can't help but smile into them. you tilt a knee up between her legs, to make sure her trembling doesn't turn into anything more.
you move her hair out of the way, tucking it to her right side, and focus on colouring her left side. you can feel stratt's grip on you tightening over time, and hear her breathing get progressively more laboured. she's leaning on you now, her eyes falling closed again. her hands grab the back of your blazer, blouse, anything they can. she bites her mouth closed, knowing that old walls like these are never thick enough to hide any noise.
there's occasional conversations happening in your earpiece, which you tune out. this one, though, you really can't ignore. ‘hey, where's stratt? another politician really wants to talk, italian, i think?’
you raise your knee so it's just shy of grinding against stratt, and grin while you flick your microphone on. she catches on quickly, giving you a short glare before putting a hand over her mouth. cruelly, you keep moving your leg ever so slowly against her. “be there soon, bathroom break. were they called, who was it again, lucio? luciano, something like that.”
you just get an affirmative hum, and shut the microphone back off, continuing to kiss stratt wherever you could. eventually, you back off, still holding her. “should we get going, director?”
she takes a few minutes to calm down, but nods. you slowly tilt her body so she can lean on the counter, and you grab some paper towels. you carefully wipe them across stratt's skin to get rid of any leftover saliva. you tug her dress back into place, and zip it up. you tuck her hair back to where it was, too, brushing it out with your fingers for good measure.
she's a bit more accepting of questions in the last hour.
—
“i expect you'll deliver on your promise, puppy?”
you can't help the grin on your face. stratt's leaning back on her bed, legs hanging off of the edge. you're kneeling, of course, imaginary tail swinging around happily. “i wouldn't dare lie to you, madam.”
she nods. “yes, i know, you're always so happy to do anything for me, hm?” she pulls herself forward. she doesn't need to reach far for the collar; everything she needs is already lying on her bed. she motions for you to come closer so you crawl until you reach the edge of her bed. she pats you on the head, then fastens the collar around your neck carefully.
she thinks about what to do next. hums, relaxed. “take off my jewelry for me, darling.”
you nod reaching up to undo her left earring. her right follows, a little quicker. you put them down on her bedside table and dig into the cabinet for her jewelry box. you place the two earrings inside carefully. she's attentively watching, smiling when she sees you handle them with so much care.
you unclasp her necklace and set it into its own little box. you put the case back into the nightstand, “all done.” you sweetly announce, hands back in your lap.
“yes, very good. now, give me that tie of yours. it's not meant for a dumb little pet like you, is it?”
it's embarrassing how quickly you shake your head. “n—nope, not for dumb pups like me.” you agree. you loosen it, handing it over without hesitation. she pats the space on the bed next to her, keeping your tie in her hands.
“may i come up, pretty please?”
she nods at you. “so, you still have some smarts. good, you remember all your rules.”
you feel a bit of pride blooming. you mutter a quick “wouldn't forget” and kneel down, now next to stratt on her bed. she comes behind you, easily restraining your arms with your tie. you test it, and she gives you a look. you just hum, “yeah, 's fine.” easy enough to get out of, should you want to.
she pats your back comfortingly, sitting up against the headboard calmly. “well then... i wonder what a good puppy would be doing, right about now.”
you position yourself to be properly between her legs. “can i make you cum, madam? want to make you feel good, can i? i'll be good, i promise. so please, may i?”
she decides to be a little mean, just for a second. “hmm, i don't know.” she shrugs. you hope your immediate puppy eyes convince her. she laughs, speaking in a mocking tone, “oh, are you that desperate? well, if you insist, sweetheart. make me proud, will you? be so good for me.”
thank god. unlike earlier, you don't waste time. you lift up her dress by biting it gently, letting it pool at her hips. her underwear is easy to pull off with just your teeth, too, and you dive into her, needing nothing more than to make her feel good.
she's letting herself make noise, you note. she's probably too tired to bother with hiding it. you can hear panting and occasional low moans when you're eating her out. you aim for as many moans as possible, poking and prodding for what her most sensitive parts are.
you're leaving kisses between her thighs while enacting the little experiment, knowing she's particularly fond of them. something about you just being so cute, you recall. the memory serves to motivate you further, and you can hear that stratt's close. just a little bit more, a little longer.
when she finishes, she lets out a deep sigh. “gott,” she bites out, “yes, good puppy,” she doesn't pull you away, so you keep making a mess of her. “keep being so good.”
well, who are you to refuse a direct order?
she just tastes too good to let go. it's for her sake that you can't use your arms; they'd be holding her down until she couldn't cum anymore. the thought makes you smile; would she let you, if you begged sweetly enough? or would she take it as a challenge, instead holding you down?
for today, you'd really like the first one. there's some vague arousal building in you, but you're wholly focused on stratt. it doesn't really occur to you to try and get off, too. you'd just like her to use you for as long as she wants, then coo praises at you after, like she always does. you hum pleasantly at the thought, and she shivers. cute.
her thighs are wrapped around you, occasionally squeezing when you hit a certain spot. her hands are still buried in the sheets, trying to keep herself upright. you have a feeling she won't last long, anymore.
“g—gutt, hondje, good.” she stutters out, mixing her german, dutch and english together rather prettily. she can barely go a second without making some kind of attractive noise, now. you slowly undo your hands from their binds, driving stratt to her orgasm again. “af.” she quickly commands, which you remember as meaning off or away. you oblige, sitting up, and pressing her into you when she inevitably got too tired to hold herself up.
you soothe her trembling form, gently kissing her all over. her face, neck, forehead, hands. she recognises them as just that, kisses, without expectations for more or the idea that you're enticing her into another round. two is all she can take today, and that's all you'll give her.
eventually, she calms down, still with heavy breaths. she returns some of your kisses slowly. she says something in german that you don't quite catch. you keep up the affection, and when she can, she verbalizes hers. “i love you, sweet thing, good, you're always so good to me, thank you,” just to name a few.
you spend the night tangled up. the morning, too, but with room service.