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The occasional noise of shifting fabric was the only thing accompanying gentle, caring strokes against your scalp. There you lay, head contently perched upon Medic's welcoming lap, any other remaining body parts lazily strewn across the common room's worn out sofa. Normally, the base would be bustling with nefarious activity and the occasional screeching coming from the outside court; most likely as a result of yet another one of Soldier's unorthodox drill calls.
Today however, presented you all with the rare luxury of free time.
The Administrator must have received the news of a lifetime so that she was prompted to actually leave you alone, you rudely deduced. Naturally, most of the men opted for being public menaces outside of the base, the much expected exception being Engineer who politely stated that plenty of projects still needed to be tended to.
And, of course, the man you were currently nestled upon as if he were the finest of royal pillows.
Medic's chest rose and fell steadily in a perfectly hypnotizing rhythm as his left arm that was securely draped over you akin to a makeshift blanket moved in the slightest so he could more effectively card his thick, rugged fingers through your hair. He was thoroughly immersed into the piece of literature he was holding inside his right palm that was barely bigger than the book's cover, fingers elegantly splayed out on it like a grim claw, so utterly and flawlessly at ease. It was an unsettlingly rare sight; a crude contrast to his day-to-day strained visage.
Your frame stirs within its contently tranquilized state and you hear the man grunt softly, trying his absolute hardest to accomodate your newfound position.
Contrary to the usual, he was in nothing but a plain white button down, no tie, no gloves, a pair of charcoal slacks and matching oxfords. However, the tiny, signature circle lenses he was so fond of were as polished as ever, sitting snugly atop the bridge of his aquiline nose. Occasionally, he'd briefly push them back with a singular index finger.
If you were to force yourself to actively focus on anything but the feeling of Medic's warmth, you could hear birds chirping outside and the faint, distant ticking of a wall clock. It was never supposed to be this quiet in Teufort, but you have also had the fortunate circumstances of not really experiencing the hazard-happy chaos that went down on a daily basis due to the base's uncontainable residents; rather, you were more prone to witnessing the aftermath of it all. Spending almost the entirety of your days roaming around Medic's quarters (a privilege in the truest sense of the term) has conditioned you to find mild ambiental noises such as the melodious coo of the mad doctor's many pet doves and the faint, electronic buzzing of machinery borderline therapeutical, as clinical as the context in which it was all happening in made it seem. Admittedly, you would much rather have this over any explosions going off next to you that were outside of the battlefield's infernal landscapes.
Medic's spectacles glint as he pinches a stray page between his thick fingers and turns it soundlessly.
He liked to challenge himself by picking up texts written solely in English after the team's giant had happily agreed to lend a hand due to being the proud owner of a still growing collection of universal literature. Your creeping smile is hidden into the fabric of Medic's slacks as you remember the 1831 copy of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein currently residing into his right hand. Typical, you thought fondly.
He had told you he already read it as a student but wanted to experience it again, this time in its original form. Well, as authentically as he could, giving that he still felt the need to rant about it not specifically being the 1818 edition. The memory of that urges you to smile once more.
"Did I happen to miss any of your lovely jokes?" The bizarre wording now has you stiffling a full on cackle.
Gentle, unabashed curiosity is presented to you from above, peering over blinding glass.
"I was just thinking about the way Heavy's face dropped when you went up to him the other day and complained that it wasn't the 1818 edition." You explain yourself, rolling onto your back completely so you could glance up at Medic.
Now you had his undivided attention, the book carefully set down on the sofa's arm.
"Dropped as in...?" Medic's scrunched up expression made you want to eat him up like he wasn't a dangerous criminal akin to the rest of the men here. He only ever did this face when his experiments were giving him a particularly rough time; or when it was Scout's turn.
"I'm assuming it has a negative connotation." He attempts, solemnly, both hands now absentmindedly braiding a mockery of a creation into your locks.
You could contain yourself no more. With a blatant chortle and a light smack to the flabbergasted man's large chest, you peer up only to notice his knitted eyebrows and the pout he only ever allowed himself to make around you.
"Fräu, please. Why do you enjoy tormenting me this much?" Hearing this from Medic, out of all people, now had your increasingly high-pitched giggles eerily resembling his own on the battlefield.
"Alright, you big dummy. Yes, you weren't wrong. We say that someone's face dropped when they're in shock. Like, they can't believe something just happened." Wiping a stray tear from the corner of your left eye, you gingerly grab one of his forearms and bring it to your chest like you would with a pillow before finally drifting off on sleepless nights.
"Kinda like when you barged into the library and screamed at Heavy that he gave you the wrong edition. I swear, it was like you could hear it from across the other side of the base." You cheekily add, barely stopping yourself from erupting into laughter again when you take notice of Medic's wide eyes. His hand had entirely stopped playing with your hair, instead resting on your scalp open palmed, giving you that nice, lightly-heavy, comforting feeling you adored so much. A man's touch you never failed to distinguish.
It took your entire willpower not to outrightly purr when he started to scratch at the back of your head, right where your hairline began.
"I do admit I was quite...agitated. Scout had a rather nasty injury I had to take care of before that. Self-inflicted, might I add. Resulted from one of his usual misbehaviors, of course. I wanted to relax by reading but got mad when I saw it wasn't the edition I prefered. My tone surely wasn't the most fitting, now that I think about it." In other words, he felt the slightest tinge of guilt. You knew Medic's workings like the open book sitting next to you right now.
"You owe him an apology. Poor guy was just trying to help." You sigh out, closing your eyes as you focus entirely on his breeze-like touch. "Seriously, doc. You have no idea how jarring it can be when you raise your voice."
Barely, you feel his abdomen twitch. This urges you to open your eyes, and you're met with the same, otherwise rare warmth gliding around freezing, glaciar lakes.
"Do you truly mean that, darling?" The hushed tone to his words has your modified heart speeding up as if ignited by an outside force, suddenly painfully aware that you were basically the sole person that Medic craved the opinion of.
Twisting in his loose grasp once more, you raise yourself on your elbows faster than you intended to, judging by the surprised grunt he lets out.
"No, I mean...it can be scary when it happens unexpectedly as any other thing you don't see coming in the moment. But hell, don't get me wrong. I love your voice, doc. Especially when you say nice things to me." You add the last part with unreasonable amounts of shyness as if it was the first time you two made any form of physical contact.
Immediately, you sense the slight tension evaporate from his large frame as he slightly slumps into his seat. That same big, warm hand, used to hacking through tendons and articulations, comes to stroke at your cheek now.
"You know I would hate to ever scare you off, right, darling?" Medic says, abnormally hesitant.
"Of course. And you could never do that, I've already told you many times. Don't ever worry about such things, Med." You turn your head slightly so you can plant a chaste kiss on the callus on the upper part of his palm, most likely a result of a lifetime of wielding sharp, forceful objects of varying sizes. He shivers.
"In fact, why don't you read to me?" The way you blurt it out spontaneously has him quirking one of his signature intrigued eyebrows at you, but he complies nonetheless. How could he ever truly deprive you of anything? He already had no qualms with maiming at your command.
Just like that seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and soon enough you found yourself in the midst of a complete limb tangle with the much bigger man.
As comfortable as the muscular cushion Medic liked to call his thigh was, as of now you were favoring pillowing his equally as impressive pectoral muscles through the thin material of his button down.
He did as asked, smoothly reading out each and every passage his orbs scrutinized from quite possibly one of his favorite works of literature, and you thoroughly cherished the moment. Each time he'd stumble over a certain word that he deemed as odd-looking or simply way too long to properly pronounce you couldn't help the Pavlovian smile that crawled its way on your features, and each time you corrected his inherent German lisp as gently and loving as possible.
But as time passed by, the tiny devil on your shoulder became increasingly aware of subtle details such as the heat radiating off of his body and that really, really pleasantly sounding rumbling undertone his voice gained whenever speaking serenely that extended all the way down to his sternum. Each time you caught it you subconsciously squeezed your ear tighter on his chest, alongside your thighs. Other times it would be the rough, foreign accent spurred from deep within his throat that he reflexively used to pronounce certain words that would get you shifting around his lap with a growing, damp uncomfortableness being birthed between your flexing legs.
Neither you or Medic were, obviously, unaware of eachother's appetites that you and him alike were certain at times bordered on hypersexuality. However, you truly did enjoy listening to him passionately read to you from Frankenstein like you were a mere child with the fond way he was cradling you, and you would have surely fallen into the dream realm soon enough if this were any other situation.
But it wasn't. It was Medic. And Medic had an uncanny abillity to trigger your hormones outside of an officially proclaimed experiment.
The man that you were shamelessly fantasizing about, who also happened to be holding you in his lap as you did so, suddenly ceased his reading and it was like a cold cord brutally snapping into your face, bringing you back to reality.
"Taube, are you alright? You seem restless." His general concern was certainly not helping your case right now.
Looking over your shoulder at him as innocently as possible, you put your much smaller hand over his left one that had its arm draped over your waist, holding you flush against his hot front.
You feel the most subtle jump of his tendons under yours, as if he intended to dig it into your eager flesh but changed his mind just as fast.
"I was being serious earlier."
"What do you mean, love?" He definitely knew, the sharp devil, by the way his other hand came from behind you to cradle your chin. But he would make you say it outrightly, regardless. Unsurprisingly.
"I love your voice, doc. I fucking do." You pant without hesitation. He rewards you with a slight growl and a rough thumb suggestively rubbing against your bottom lip.
You don't have to be told twice; instinctively, you allow him in and moan at the hard texture agonizingly dragging over your tongue, suddenly wishing it was a whole other body part of his.
"Naughty, naughty girl. You just had to spur me on right now, didn't you?" He teasingly lets out flush against your ear as if he had anyone else to blame but himself for always making you act like an uncontrollably hormonal teenager; at times with mere presence alone.
Simply too caught up in lewdly swirling your tongue over the thumb in your mouth that was now threatening to go past your throat, you definitely do not expect the sudden hard grip on your hip.
"I asked you a question, love." Medic punctuates with a grind on your ass from below, and you knew if he wanted to he could lift you with his hips alone, going by that force of his you were very well acquainted with on many occasions.
"Fuck, yes. I had to. I couldn't resist, ok? Being this close to you for so long wasn't helping, either." Mumbling around his finger that was still poking around your mouth, you whine needily upon noticing the all too familiar contemplating look on his handsome face that only signaled unethicalness and trouble.
His thumb pops off and you're inclined to whine a second time before he turns your head to the side.
"Tell me, fräu. Are you going to be good for me?"
You had no choice but to agree yet again to his probing nature.
"I also find myself being particularly fond of your voice. Why don't we switch roles for a while?" You had a slight idea where this was going, but you couldn't let it show even if you wanted; it was as if he had you under full body anesthesia.
The slightly chapped cover of Frankenstein gets pushed into your uneasy hands, and Medic takes the liberty to crack a sly, satisfied smirk at your disoriented state. So early.
"Your turn, dear. Read to me. I'll advise you to be as coherent as possible, though." The blunt ends of Medic's nails ever so slightly dig into the sides of your cheeks before gliding his palm down your neck, fingers skillfully feeling your pulse.
That last part spiked your anxiety up tenfold; even as the promise of the imminent came along, Medic letting his hand tantalizingly descend all the way down where you needed him the most.
He started off slow, dipping his hand past your waistband and pressing hardened over fingertips over the thin layer of your panties. The movements he made, however, were nothing less of a joke; sluggish excuses of a circle right over your clothed mound that had your toes curling in biting frustration, rather than pleasure.
"The faster you get to work, the better it will feel, darling." Medic's hot breath fanned over your ear, grin all too present within his teasing tone.
So this is what it was all about; yet another one of his experimental mind games where he takes advantage of the ridiculous effect he has on you, blatantly toying with you, pushing, pulling, biting, grinding until it either ended with him getting thrown down or you begging until your voice gives out. Unmistakably, the omnipresent scientist residing within him was nothing short of eager to find out the result each time.
It seemed he left off at the part where the monster, heartbroken, vows revenge on Victor for abandoning the creation of his mate. You couldn't even begin to imagine how that must have felt for the wretched thing, and Medic's increasingly speedy movements against your crotch were making sure of it. If this were any other instance, you would have most likely spent hours reflecting on the how's and why's, probably dissecting the grotesque being's character and the imagery used in relation to it; no differently than Medic's own ways.
But giving the current situation, it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but Medic's talented fingers inching closer and closer to the edge of your panties, eventually diving past them as some sort of twisted reward after you had managed to utter out a rather long paragraph without your breath stuttering, because every single time the sly old dog took notice of it he'd purposefully halt his hand almost entirely, basking into the exasperated nature of your huffs.
It hits you instantly like iced water, the rough pads of his worked digits pinching and rubbing at your aching clit in such unbelievably orgasmic ways you swore you could have gone into brain death right in his arms, willfully letting yourself go in order to be brought back.
"Mhm- Oh, those are some exceptional noises you're making right there, dear." You hear who might as well could have been Satan himself whispering right into your ear, finishing with the lightest of nibbles on your sensitive shell. "Does it really feel so good that you can barely keep your pretty little eyes open? Hmm?"
You wanted to retaliate so bad, point out the blatant hardness currently residing between his thighs that was nudging your bottom needily, tell him anything and everything as a depressing attempt at saving whatever crumbs were left of your rapidly demolishing pride. Alas, Medic went out of his way, as always, to render you completely incapacitated.
"You've been doing a great job so far. Such a good girl you are for me, isn't that right?" God, you wanted to strangle him, leave him lying cold.
Within a fraction of a second your brain registers a rather sizable intrusion rapidly making its way past your already dripping folds. The moan you let out is nothing short of scandalous, and if you had turned around in the slightest at that moment you would have witnessed the look of unadulterated satisfaction on Medic's malevolent face.
"Cherish it, liebe. Because I'll stop completely if you do not resume your work right now."
The nerve he had was absolutely mind-boggling, utterly flagrant. And yet you obliged near instantly with slight fear coursing through your system at his ominous promise, commendably so in a blatantly conditioned nature.
The cycle was simple: succesful performance was to be rewarded via the introduction of incentives; should you misbehave, the incentives were to be entirely removed, at times followed by punishment accordingly; should you halt, subtle warnings should get you back to being focused on the task at hand.
You hated how effective it was.
Medic's fingers were ridiculously long, but not scrawny in the slightest. Generously thick, with adequate amounts of pronounced joints and equally as protruding veins that spread throughout the back of his large hands, crawling up his thick wrists and forearms like twisted critters. Those same fingers that he gleefully used to pull muscle from bone were now tearing at your own insides in the most revoltingly intimate of ways possible.
The thought of what he meticulously used said hands for on a daily basis was easily worsening the raging wetness between your legs; it was absolutely perverse.
He fucked you slow, deep and steady with two of his fingers as your voice began trembling more and more, elevating in pitch at the end of each word your saltwater-filled eyes skimmed over. They were so deliciously thick, leaving you wanting for more and more and more with the way their jagged texture scraped all over your walls like the teeth of a saw agonizingly dragging over your breakable frame, purposefuly prolonging your suffering.
Each time you squirmed and yelped at the brutal way in which he hooked his fingers, the worked muscles within his thick forearm would jump in order to keep you in place on his thigh whilst he softly growed into your ear filthy words of praise to edge you on and the occasional, teasing warning to tone you down simultaneously.
"Medic, fuck- please. More, I need more!" You barely registered yourself shifting from the script.
"Ah-Ah, darling. I believe that wasn't written in the book now, was it?" You hear him muse and your heart might as well have dropped upon realizing that he had halted his ministrations inside you.
"What the fuck." The growl you let out is inherently animalistic, hazy eyes barely twisting to the side along with your head to look at the demon from hell that you so fondly called your boyfriend. You wanted so badly to point out the way his cock twitched beneath you at your choice of tone at that moment.
Your hand starts trembling on the book's cover as you feel the angle of his fingers ever so slightly shift against your poor g spot as if to spite you further.
"Focus, my darling. Eyes on the book, and I'll make sure you won't be able to walk for the rest of today and the entirety of tomorrow."
With his free hand now gingerly stroking your hardened-over features until they softened back into the submissiveness he so dearly cherished, it took him no less than a minute to tone down your anxieties. One certain thing you came to know about Medic was him being a man of his words, and you knew whatever the promise he may make he unmistakably will go through with it.
Recollecting your thoughts as best as you could while having someone quite literally assaulting the plush cushion of your deepest spots, you begin reading once again akin to a condemned prisoner. Letter by letter, from one dialogue to another, you could vaguely notice that the sun had already began setting with a quick, uncertain glance towards the nearby window. Through your droplet-embroidered lashes it looked more like a blazing spot of honeyed orange that one would see on a hastily thrown together painting made by an unassuming child.
Despite all of this you found yourself quickly getting rewarded by his ring finger being added to the two inside of you after flawlessly managing to read a full page. You scream when he spontaneously curls all three, beginning to dig exactly into the places where he knew you were the most sensitive like a famished predator with the uncanny accuracy of a knowledgeable physician.
Just like that, whatever focus you had fought so valiantly for earlier had easily crumbled like a worn structure hit by the waves of a seething earthquake the moment Medic increased his pace between your numb thighs.
"Tell me." You hear that same old intrigued tone full of wonder and what ifs murmur behind you. "Can you promise to control yourself if I were to try out something else? Can I trust that you'll keep being a good girl for me?" He says your name with such nectar dripping from his scheming voice that you can't even tell it's venom.
And you immediately figure, much to your horror and arousal, what he means by that the moment he slides out of his seat and carefully places you back on the sofa, taking your pants and underwear down in a swift motion as he kneels at your feet with shameless devotion befitting of a servant.
He tells you not to dare peek or touch lest he'll stop entirely as he takes his time sliding those large, lukewarm palms all over your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He warns you a second time to behave, more nicely, with a short kiss to the juncture where your thigh bone meets your hip, before he strikes you once, then twice with his snake-like tongue as if tentatively dipping the tips of his feet into unwelcoming water. You tremble but keep your head high, literally, as you struggle to utter out coherent sentences without panting like you ran marathons, and every time that cunning muscle of his meets your clit it's as if he's actively trying to sabotage your progress.
Contrary to how he started off when fingering you, this time he was relentless. Medic was known as a man of infinite talents, and from your experience oral sex was definitely one of his fortes.
He made you verbally promise you'll be good just so he could derive sick joy from playing with his prey before inevitably and mercilessly devouring it whole. Whenever full minutes went by without you stuttering or stumbling once, he'd quicken the flicks his tongue delivered to your clit. Other times he'd flatten it whole over your slit, painfully dragging it up and splitting your folds in the process with a crooked grin that you could feel before ending with an excruciatingly slow suck to your engorged pearl.
He knew just the right ways in which to alternate his methods of delivering unbridled pleasure to your aching nerves, and you were growing more and more sick of it. Rather, you were fed up with all the conditions and wanted clear cut release.
Medic was hyper aware of it too being the observant beast he was which merely spurred him on to continue your torture. As severe of an effect as the moans escaping you mid-sentence and the way your thighs jumped against his steel grasp that firmly set them apart were having on him, Medic did his absolute best in pushing you closer and closer to your impending limit.
Each time he'd suckle on your abused clit he'd make sure to exaggerate the noises his lips made when pulling away from your hot flesh, suggestively moaning and praising the taste like it was heavenly honey, or he simply did that thing he knew you loved the most where he bobbed his head and hollowed out his already sunken in cheeks whilst keeping a vice-like grip on your bundle of nerves with his greedy mouth.
Without fail, that made your whole body shake each time, and a sick grin stretched all over your pussy at the thought that you weren't even allowed to look down and admire his debaucherously pornographic displays.
To enchance your misery, he lets a glob of spit generously drip down onto your pussy whilst separating your folds with curious hands as if he was unraveling a new specimen.
"Just a little more, my love. Fuck, you're so obedient for me, aren't you?" His thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. "It's alright. You can touch me now, angel. You've earned it."
Like Pavlov's dog you comply, hand descending haphazardly to entangle unsteady fingers into Medic's neatly styled salt and pepper hair, and you feel like you could meet God himself when glancing for the first time into darkened over cerulean threatening to fully roll back at any moment. You thank said hypothetical God once he allows you to freely wrap your thighs around his unworthy head, and even while being aware he's undeserving, he thinks this would be the only way he would ever want to go out and be met with his own, personally delayed inevitable.
You nearly disregard the text in front of you entirely, suddenly much more entertained by the blatant way in which your hips were now jumping and grinding against Medic's unforgiving tongue. Everytime it darted out to shove itself and twist inside you or to abuse your clit more, you made sure your hand was further pushing his head forward in tandem with your lower body jumping against his touch, and it did unspeakable things to the pathetic man groaning at your feet. It was downright disgusting, the imagery you both were currently displaying; spit dribbling down your ass and his chin, tousled hair and sweaty skin, rolled eyes, handprints on legs and the obscene sounds Medic made each time he sucked on your pussy like a permanent reminder.
"Not so cocky now, are we?" You venomously hiss through your teeth at a particularly harsh lick he gives as if wanting to shut you up faster; a clear and uncharacteristic desperate measure.
"Eyes back on the book, love." And with that he dips three whole fingers inside of you again, only to resume his swollen lips around your pulsing clit.
It takes you aback, and you nearly drop the book with a loud yell as he borderline hunches his body over your pussy like you were intending to go anywhere.
"Don't you fucking dare cum." You hear him half-assedly detach himself from your clit for a fraction of a second before going back to causing you unmatched agony.
"Fuck off." You reply with just as much contempt but resume your reading nonetheless. This time, however, you made sure you're weren't the only one using underhanded tactics.
Without mistake, whenever you felt Medic's fingers and tongue slowing their movements you would either tug on his hair so that he'd groan against your pussy and roll his eyes pitifully, or you straight up forced him back to work by squeezing him inbetween your legs like a deadly Anaconda, basking within his alarmed huffs and masochistic moans. Two could play this game, and if he was so determined to psychologically break you, then you would do all in your power to shatter his resolve and get him to shove his cock in you as fast as possible.
You thought you finally had him, but you find yourself squeaking in both surprise and unimaginable arousal once Medic tightens his well-built arms in a deadlock around your legs, akin to how you did to his head earlier, with a shocking mixture between a moan and a growl. Without hesitation, he lifts you on his shoulders as he rises from his kneeling position only to sit back down on the couch, and all you can do in the meantime is submit to his overwhelming force whilst gripping on his now thoroughly disheveled hair because you knew you couldn't break free even if you wanted to.
He just as casually maneuvers you the other way around as he removes your pussy from his face, placing you back down on his lap and furthering your confusion.
"What...?" Is all you can manage to let out, trying to squirm in his arms only to have your back squeezed on his wildly heaving chest once more with a single arm of his.
His cock was harder than ever underneath you. Borderline painful, you noted. You felt a sick sense of pride at the growing wet spot where his tip resided underneath the crinkled material. Just to be an even bigger annoyance, you do your best to grind and gyrate your hips against his hardness, struggling and squirming with unmatched might against his death grip until you heard him growling under his breath again like an awakened beast.
"You were getting too full of yourself earlier." He mutters, as an accusation, and when you turn around you nearly moan yourself at his wildly crimson-tinted cheeks and swollen lips, completely out of breath and glaring poison-dipped daggers.
"Oh please, you were loving every second." You roll your eyes, but just as you're about to attempt demeaning him more, you see his free hand sliding down with a frustrated huff.
Medic fiddles with his belt, and all of your senses flare up in a conditioned manner once again. He speedily unbuckles it with a single hand of his like a master would, and the clinking of metal has your pussy squeezing over nothing in anticipation. How you adored that sound and its array of implications.
It gets thrown onto the dusty carpet below with a soft thud, and you look down with lascivious interest to see him, at last, freeing his raging erection. You're certain you feel him throw his head back with a near inaudible, relieved "fuck", but as of now you were simply too immersed into what was happening down there and how it was so close to touching your navel. Your mouth watered.
Like he would do to a living subject, he kills all of your hopes when he nudges the book into your grasp again.
"I'm going to need you to chirp for me again, darling. But if you so much as move, you're finishing yourself off tonight." The demonic bastard sung into your ear. You knew damn well he was lying through his pearly white teeth, if going by the painful erection he had a newfound interest in, smacking your inner thigh with it.
"I fucking hate you." You find yourself fully erupting, craning your neck so you could watch that enragingly handsome face twist into what could only be described as a manic grin.
"Aw, I love you too, my angel." He displays unseen before levels of maturity as he restrains your agitated frame.
"You fucking...crazy bastard. You're mad." Your words get caught in your throat as if choked by a spirit once the hot tip of his cock prods at your eager entrance.
"I prefer creative. And I'd advise you to watch that pretty mouth of yours, fräulein." He lightly runs the tip of his dick in an up and down motion against your slit, intrigued to no end by the pathetic noises and helpless thrashing he was pulling from you.
You whimper upon feeling the head of his length ever so slightly push past your folds. His arm constricts your midsection like rope.
"I'm the crazy bastard who will make you cum harder than you ever did before in your life, so I'd advise you to correct your attitude. And focus." He leers, grabbing the base of his cock and finally pushing inside of you.
The moan you both let out once he's fully fit within your walls betrays each and any façades upheld until then. It takes you no less than exactly two seconds to register that Medic was, indeed, not done with his barbaric session.
Your entire, sweaty body tenses against its meaty restraints as you try desperately moving your hips only to be held back down in place by your stubborn captor. Each time you do so a frustrated moan escapes you, making your situation significantly worse by the subtle angle shifts resulted from your futile squirming that just weren't nearly enough. It was like showing a starving dog meat, only to yank it away from its face everytime it tried biting into it; an eternally dangling, hypothetical promise.
"Fucking move, what are you doing?!" Your nails dig into Medic's forearm and he hisses in what you could only assume is pure, masochistic pleasure. You knew he loved when you put up a fight.
"If you could manage this long then surely you'll be just fine now. You can handle a bit more, can you? For me, love?" The telltale hotness of his treacherous breathing hits the back of your neck cheekily. "You'll get what you want in due time. I promise." Medic never stated anything he wasn't entirely intending on carrying out.
However, he was making it really difficult to function; this time worse than ever. Having his full cock inside you, hot and hard and pulsing, simply begging to be milked dry, only to be forced to stay still like a statue. All while that swollen tip, oh so tempting, constantly pressed against your g spot like an unsavory reminder.
Fuck, you think to yourself bitterly. He really won't let you slither your way out of this one, will he?
And you utter, through deceiving teeth, that you'll keep your promise and obey his unorthodox demands. All while his hips kept ever so slightly jerking underneath you from time to time as to throw off your rhythm whenever you were performing a bit too well. He hypocritically instructed you not to move all while doing it himself occasionally, abusing the fact that you couldn't easily twist around within his constricting grasp and see that ever-present Glasgow smile.
It was music to Medic's malevolent ears, the way you struggled and stumbled over otherwise mediocre syllables whenever he'd so much as stir his cock inside you.
His favorite was, by far, when you were putting your whole heart and the entirety of your soul into reciting a piece of Victor's dialogue, when he decided to ruin your little artistic display by unexpectedly digging his cock up into your g spot.
The angle made it laughably easy, so much so that your body jolted upwards, partially by the unbridled force of his hips, but also by the visceral, high-pitched moan that broke through your unfortunate sentence.
An albeit loud noise rings throughout the silent room, signaling the book's collision with the ground, reverberating like a cracking whip; along with it came shattering down your rapidly thinning, glass-paper patience.
Like a lion seizing its opportunity, you take advantage of Medic getting distracted by the sudden sound so you can force your way around his forearm. You barely register the delightful shock into his translucent eyes, much too occupied with planting both of your hands onto his wide shoulders like you were intending to yank his clavicle out.
"Old fucking bastard." You spat, your pussy sucking his cock in again and again as your hips brutally slammed down onto his. "Your reflexes are getting slower, did you know that?"
Medic quickly forces himself to snap out of his short-lived trance, knees parting for better leverage as he now met your thrusts with newly-discovered determination. Large palms come to bruisingly grip your ass, smacking once, then twice, enjoying to no extent the noises of surprise and ache breaking your composure.
"Couldn't fucking wait any longer, could you?" You hear his downright pathetic attempt at demeaning you, already out of breath as he struggled to keep up with your insane pace.
"Fucking please. You were the one dragging it on for far too long." You bite back twice as hard, nails almost drawing blood into his shoulders once he gives you another harsh smack over your already reddened ass that had your pussy borderline suffocating his cock. "At this point you were just mindlessly delaying the inevitable. If you truly didn't wanna fuck me then you could've just walked out as you said you would, you know?"
Your word warps as your back hits cushion. A large weight you soon register to be Medic's front sandwiches you between its overwhelming mass and the sofa below you. Spitefully, you hook your legs over his hips as to grasp onto whatever control you could, glaring at the significantly bothered man above you. He looked so much better like this; glasses askew, high cheekbones flushed, wet strands of hair falling over his lined forehead, maddeningly spiraling glare and focused eyebrows.
"You're forgetting I'm the one that let you do that to me in the first place, silly girl." He menacingly states, matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't quite literally sweating his ass off in forcibly pinning you down and pounding into you like you weren't made out of frail, breakable matter.
"Oh doctor, you're sooo scary. You're totally giving me the creeps right now! Help, somebody save me!" You squeak out deliriously, mockery combining with ecstasy in a dizzying concoction as the man above you growled from deep within his throat; finally signaling that he was, indeed, reaching his limit.
You're ready to tell him again just how not intimidated you are by him, when a large force clasps itself around your throat. Medic chokes you mercilessly, boring those neverending pallid pools into your own orbs until you were certain your head was going to develop symmetrical holes. His other hand aggressively finds purchase into the back of your head, pulling a fistful of it so he could bring your head higher, foreheads electrifyingly touching eachother.
"Silence, you needy little slut. All of this time you did everything in your power to throw me off like the hormonal whore you are, and think you have a right to complain? Is that how desperate you are for some dick? Couldn't even fucking wait until I would have-" Your chapped lips cause Medic's rant to cease in an instant, and you cockily smirk into the poor excuse of a kiss upon taking notice that he immediately reciprocates. All bark no bite, this old hound of yours.
The hand previously pressing onto the sides of your neck descends as to fix a damning grip onto one of your wildly bouncing breasts and you moan, unrestrained, into the kiss. He takes the occasion to shove his tongue into your mouth, further fondling your tormented nipple with his rough palm, neither of you even bothering with the fact that spit was most likely getting past your chins. Everything was grotesquely graphic, violent and shocking in its raw nature, and you have never felt more better.
"Shut up. Shut the fuck up and just fuck me, doc. Give it to me." You order, breaking free from the mindless tongue-tangle so you could focus your attention on his neck. You knew damn well he wouldn't even try to hide the blossoming petals you had just painted all over the chiseled column of his throat, and the mere thought had your pussy spasming all over his length.
"You've got some fucking nerve, fräulein. Oh fuck, you do." This time it's your turn to grin maliciously at the way his strained voice jumps in pitch and cracks at the end. You knew you finally had him.
"And you haven't seen the most of it." Tightening your thighs around his hips, you once again take advantage of his immersed state to flip the both of you over.
"God fucking damn it, what the..." You hear Medic's disoriented grunting below you as you ruthlessly bounce on top of him, fingers meticulously opening up the uneven material of his button down so you could rake your nails all over his impressive chest.
"Oh, you're so close. I can feel you twitching inside me. Oh, you're so fucking close. Yes you are, doc." You taunt relentlessly as if you weren't on the brink of the deepest infernal pits yourself.
"Make me cum, make me fucking cum, angel. Fuck, that's it. That's fucking it, just like that." He starts rambling absentmindedly, a hand that effortlessly envelopes the entirety of your throat shakily wrapping itself around it as to give him the illusion of control one last time.
You welcome the gesture, throwing your head back with a loud howl as you held onto his flexing forearm, letting his long index finger pop into your mouth with a deranged mewl oddly resembling his stained title. Medic instantly rolls his eyes so graphically it nearly triggers your orgasm; seeing such a well-composed man so utterly and unabashedly wrecked was one of the rarest of possible sights, and you easily figured you weren't the sole subject of his earlier denial.
"Right fucking there. Don't stop." He hisses before erupting into foreign blabbering, and you were all too familiar with the telltale signs.
"Yeah? Cum for me, doc. Make a fucking mess of my insides." And he curses one last time as you greedily lick over his finger, jerking his hips so strongly below you that you think he could have kept you lifted into the air like that if he tried hard enough.
His grip on your throat progressively shifts from metal-like to dust-light alongside the waves of his climax as he writhes underneath you a little too intensely for a man his size, whimpering unknown words to your ears that you knew would simply be downright repulsive if they were to be said in English.
You don't stop. The broken whine he lets out has you moaning his actual name, and he's so far gone he can barely hold onto your tits anymore, once strong hands now falling from grace by your unstoppable hips.
"What...no, too fucking- no, I'm too sensitive, fräu...?" But that doesn't stop you at all, and judging by the way he keeps crying out and weakly meeting your harsh movements, he doesn't even want you to.
"You can take a bit more, right old man? For me, pretty please?" You unabashedly use his own underhanded tactics on him, and he immediately figures which is exactly why he willingly lets himself be toyed with.
Medic's face is uncharacteristic in its nature, so unrestrained and expressive you think you could truly go insane within your sex-induced delirium. He looked, for lack of a better word, destroyed from the base down; such a glaring contradiction to his normally domineering persona, it was making your head spin. That's why he was so fun, so unpredictable all of the time. He never let things go stale.
"So good for me, doc. All for me, isn't that right?" You were aware of how malleable he was post-orgasm. "Gonna cum so fucking hard, just a bit more, love. I promise, ok? Think you can hold on for me a little longer?"
"Yes- fuck. Give it to me, angel. Cum all over my cock, please, oh God." He futilely called out to a being that would never answer him.
And you do, you do exactly as he orders you to as you always do, convulsing all over his spent frame with the most inhumane sounds you've ever heard yourself produce. Within your frenzy, you were almost certain you felt Medic's cock twitch as he spilled himself a second time with the most depressing of moans as you were riding out your long-awaited high.
In imperfect tandem, you both go boneless against eachother, chests heaving and limbs frantically searching purchase within eachother like severed tendrils.
"Give me a moment." Medic huffs below you, cock still inside of you and gradually softening as he slowly ran an uneven hand through your tangled hair.
You stay like this for what feels like an eternity, simply focusing on the hard heaving of Medic's chest underneath you. Alas, you had to force yourself up soon enough as you remembered his habit of clocking out after particularly intense sessions, which you assumed was also partially due to his unholy sleep schedule. It was a no brainer that it didn't take long to completely tire his old, overworked bones out.
"Come here, little devil." Strong, homely arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you back down like a shark submerging its meal.
"Medic." You whine as he presses a tight kiss to your damp hairline. "We have to tidy up, the others should be back by now."
"I know. But right now I care more about letting you know just how much I love you. Oh, how I love you, my darling." Defeated, you let yourself be smothered into the madman's adoringly dead-lock, hopelessly smiling into the crook of his neck as you whispered things you've never uttered to anyone before.
As you continued clinging onto the big man as if your life depended on it even outside of the battlefield, you had yet to take notice of the now shut down cameras inside the room. Unbeknownst to the both of you, you had effectively forced the sole remaining person in the base to take an unexpectedly early break from work.