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“How long do these things take?” König groans beside you, shifting so his shoulder bumps yours for the fourth time in the past five minutes.
“Eh, a few days, give or take.”
“A few…no, you’re fucking with me.”
You huff. “I’m convinced you didn’t even slightly research what being a sniper meant before you applied for it.”
“If I had known it would be this boring I never would have wanted it in the first place.” He groans, elbowing you in the gut as he wriggles in the tiny space below the bush. Well, not that tiny. It just felt tiny with a giant man who couldn’t sit still to save his life trapped in there with you.
A bone-deep sigh escapes you as you try to let it go. It’s not his fault your normal partner is out on medical leave right now. And it’s you who should have known better than to volunteer him as replacement. It feels stupid now, but you remembered thinking he would like getting to be a sniper for once. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?
He twitches again, managing to perfectly kick the bone in your ankle.
Thank god this isn’t his normal job.
“Hey, König?”
“Hmm?”
“I can watch the scope on my own. It’s probably going to be awhile. Do you have anything to do with your hands?”
He groans. “I left my whittling knife at base.”
“Here, use mine. It’s on my belt, can you reach?”
He nods, the fabric of his ghillie suit shuffling over yours as he reaches across you, fingers running over your waist as he reaches under the fabric to withdraw the tool.
You gulp at the unexpected contact. Hoping he didn’t notice, you turn your attention back to the field below. You don’t catch the swift glance he gives you, nor the way he shifts to bring his hips off the ground.
-
It takes König less than twenty minutes to demolish the piece of wood he brought. He doesn’t even carve anything, he just shaves it to shreds, narrowly missing his fingers countless times as you try not to watch.
He tucks the blade away, brushing the shavings aside.
You stifle another sigh, counting down in your head. Wait for it.
He wriggles, trying to scoot into a comfier position and banging the bones of his hip right into your side. You growl, pushing your gun forward and twisting to face him.
“How the hell do you get anything done?”
He scoffs. “Because I know how to do things quickly.”
“Yeah, because I’m sure ramming into things solves every problem.”
He snorts.
“What is it now?”
König leans over, mask nearly pressing against yours. “It’s solved your problems plenty of times.”
“You’re full of yourself, you know that?”
He chuckles, the soft sounds nearly disguising the way you know he’s smirking under that hood. “Yeah?” His voice drops to a whispering snarl. “Tell me you don’t like it.”
“I…ugh, I’m trying to focus here.”
He snickers, the sound spreading up your spine as he hooks a leg over your hips, pressing against your side. “How long did you say these things usually take?”
Your eyes widen. “They’re giving us…72 hours this time.”
“Well, I’d say that gives us…” he shuffles, checking his watch. “71 hours. I think we might…juust barely have time.”
“Psht. You couldn’t last that long if you tried.”
“Careful, little one,” he croons. “I thought you were trying to focus here.”
You grab a fistful of the fabric around his chest, yanking him impossibly closer. “Are you just gonna talk this entire time?”
“Now who’s impatient?”
You huff, opening your mouth to retort, but a calloused index finger presses on your lips through the suit.
“Shh,” he commands breathily, mouth hovering next to your ear. “Watch the scopes. And tell me…” he lifts himself up, maneuvering so he can press his entire body against your back, the hard length of him rubbing into your tailbone. “Which do you want first? My fingers…or my tongue?”
“Both,” you retort smugly.
He snorts. “Greedy little thing. Guess I’ll have to choose then.”
His hand slides down your side, fingers feeling through the leaves of the suit to find the seam. He pulls up your shirt, his hand dancing across your bare hip, the combination of skin and fabric sending a shiver over you before his fingers hook under your pants and underwear, yanking them down to expose you for him.
You inhale, covering your mouth with a palm as the cool air brushes over your bare skin.
He squeezes your flesh, a muffled squeal escaping your mouth. Your skin heats up at his self-satisfied hum, his warm hand sliding in between your thighs as his thumb just barely brushes over your slit.
You buck into him, needy and impatient, but he humors you this time, sliding his hand up so the length of his thumb presses against you, the rough tip rubbing into your clit. You gulp, squirming at the sudden pressure, only for him to push his thumb against you harder just as he drops more of his weight onto you.
You gasp as your shoulders give out, his forearm sliding under your head as he pins your torso to the ground. You bury your face in the fabric, swallowing a moan as he slides a finger into you.
“Are you watching?”
You bite your tongue, shakily raising your head to bring an eye to your scope. He adds another finger, lazily pumping them in and out, and your vision blurs as you focus on holding back a whimper.
Your willpower, however, is crumbling faster than you care to admit as his fingers work into you. The crisp stalks of grass waving in the sights slide into each other, morphing into subtly flowing waves, perfectly mimicking the pattern of tremors you feel tracing the edges of your bones, lapping up your spine and pulling your muscles into their undertow.
“K-König, I’m-”
“I know.” His head tucks into your neck as your face falls to his arm again, teeth tangling in the rough fabric of your own mask. Gunpowder and smoke and metal-sharp tangs explode across your tongue as your own body halts and stutters, trapped beneath him.
A wave of magma flows up your back, caged by the suit and his body above you so that it continues to crash against your skin, sending another tremulous whimper past your lips.
Finally you lift your head again, struggling to reach once again for the scope as your neck shakes. His arm shifts, a palm pressing into your jaw and lifting upwards as long fingers grasp easily along either side of your face. You relax, eyes half-closing as you let him take the weight of your head.
You breathe his name again as his fingers leave you, his entire suit rustling as he lifts himself up.
Searing heat licks at every corner of your being and still you tremble, back arching into the weight of him as he finally frees himself. He sighs, pulling back just enough, and then his velvety head is catching at your entrance, the shadowy edges of your vision closing in as he thrusts himself into you, stretching you until you feel you might burst at the seams, that perhaps the suit wrapped around you is the only tape holding you together.
Scraps of fabric brush against your bare skin as he sinks in deeper, tickling as they slide up you. Your fingers tighten into his arm, and it’s his turn to quiver as his own soft skin meets yours, his chest pressing into your back once again.
He’s buried in your neck now, hand tight against the crook between your jaw and throat, and you wonder if he can even breathe there, you’re barely breathing yourself, but he answers you with a great heaving inhale, as if he can pull you into his lungs and hold you there.
And then he lifts his head again, hips rolling against you. Once. Twice. Again. And with each motion a moan filters through his mask.
You want to hear him. You want him to be louder, to scream for you, to tell you how good you feel. Yes, that’s exactly what you want.
But not here. No, you can’t do that here.
“König, you have to be quiet.”
“I know, I know,” he pants. “It’s just…” he presses his face into your shoulder, burying another whimper in the shaggy fabric. “Stop clenching, stop or I’m never…I’m never gonna last.”
“And I…I thought you said…we’d be going for days.”
He hisses, hand clamping over your mouth as his hips ruck against you harder, your pitiful whine absorbed by his palm. He chuckles, a subtle shaking of his body you feel directly in your core. “And here you are telling me to be quiet.”
You make an angry sound, biting at his palm until he pulls back.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
As soon as you open your mouth he drives into you again, dragging roughly along every sensitive spot inside you. All that comes out of you is a choked gasp, hands scrabbling on the ground in front of you.
“Yeah,” he breathes, a huff of amusement bursting from his lips. “That’s what I thought.”
Then his hand is on the column of your throat once more, still holding you up, nearly taunting the way your gaze still hovers over your scope, all tendrils of clarity gone.
You screw your eyes shut, watching the sparks throw themselves against your eyelids until even they are blurred and everything draws itself up tight within you, impossibly tense and white-hot.
His hand is over your mouth now, just in time to halt the scream that reverberates along the thick sludge of your mind as flares of new heat overtake you.
He drags his other arm under you, gluing you to him as he settles as deep as he can go, a mess of staggered syllables shaking his jaw and curling over your ears as his warmth spreads within your own, burning and soothing all at once.
He settles against you, the pleasant heaviness of his form grounding you through the last aftershocks, holding you up as your own muscles remember how to do it themselves.
-
Your vision is focused now, eyes once again glued to your scope even though König still drapes himself over you. He’s long gone soft inside of you, his entire body languid and motionless.
He’s finally still. Maybe he’s asleep.
You giggle at that, and a muffled groan rattles his throat.
“What was that?”
He raises his head, leaning his face into your temple. “Whadiddi miss?”
You giggle again, reaching back to hold his head, but catch movement in your sight. An outline familiar from a dozen mission reports ignites every instinct within you, and your hands are already tilting your gun, eyes watching the way the grass waves. Left. Just slightly. You move your scope slightly to the right, raising it up to account for the distance.
The man turns, exposing his torso.
“König.”
“Yeah?”
“Stop breathing.”
“What-?”
“Hold your breath. Now.”
He inhales as you do, your crosshairs stilling as you feel your heartbeats, timing the pauses between them.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Bang.
Red sprays onto the ground below. The target stumbles backwards, glancing down, and with devastating realization, falls.
And inside of you, König hardens again.