Chapter Text
König and you have a habit of playing chess together practically daily when you're not on a mission. It is almost cathartic; the perfect way to wind down before you both head off to bed. So that night when you knock on his door, he is quick to let you in. He is dressed much more casually than when you see him around the base, but that doesn't phase you anymore. Not like there is a big difference anyways–the black sweatpants and long sleeve shirt he's wearing coupled with his ever-present hood not revealing much. Somehow his figure looks even more ominous when his tan pants are swapped for a full black look, but you're beyond being taken aback by his stature.
"Ready to lose again big guy?" you say as you take a seat on his bed. You've noticed that it is slightly bigger than the one you have in your room, probably in an attempt to accommodate his size. A quick look at him tells you that it's barely an improvement.
König, like often, takes the joke with a smile. Mostly because he simply doesn't know how to respond to banter, too afraid that he won't be able to match your sarcasm.
"How is your shoulder?" he asks, sitting across from you as you take the board out of your bag and hand him his chess pieces.
"Better. The medic said I could take the brace off tomorrow."
"Already?"
"You mean finally. It's been weeks since I dislocated my shoulder. Can't wait to get back into training."
"Be careful not to take it too far," he says, looking up from the board to you, as to emphasize that he means it. What aims to be a reprimand sounds more like actual concern–you have a history of not letting injuries heal properly because you're too eager to get back into the action.
Seeing that he's not looking away, you feel compelled to reassure him. "Promise I won't."
His eyes drop back down to the board, happy with your answer, finishing to set up his pieces.
You take your hoodie off your shoulders, the sling you're wearing not letting you wear it properly anyways. When König looks back at you, he is a bit surprised to find you only in your tank top. He immediately focuses his gaze on your face in an attempt to ignore it.
He clears his throat. "You go first."
You start playing, a bit impressed when König easily spots your tactics and counters them. Because of that, the game draws out–forced to take your opponent more seriously and give some thoughts to your moves. Not that you underestimated him before, the fact is that he used to be a complete beginner. Back when you started this ritual, you could have played three games in the time it took to complete this one. In the end though, you still end up winning.
"When did you get this good?"
"I- uh… danke, I don't really know. I learned from playing with you," he shrugs.
"Oh so I'm like your master." You miss the way König's eyes widen at the word. "Ruby the chess mentor. Sounds about right," you announce proudly.
"I'm glad you're still enjoying these games with me despite winning every time."
"All the fun is in winning, you should try it someday," you say, biting back a smile.
"Ouch."
"More seriously, it's great playing with you. I'm surprised you haven't gotten tired of it."
König almost admits that he'd never get tired of you. Instead he offers you a warm smile behind his mask.
"I'd love to play again but I'm exhausted," you say, dramatically slouching against the wall. "Besides, the sooner I sleep, the sooner tomorrow will come. And I can't wait to get this shit off of me."
You watch hazily as König gathers everything. You get up and he hands you your bag.
"Sleep tight big guy. I'll kick your ass tomorrow," you declare with a playful punch to his shoulder.
You get out of his room, the sound of the door closing followed by a deafening silence. König slumps against the bed, staring at his ceiling. He takes off his face cover for the night, setting it next to the bed. With his skin now exposed, he can feel something cold pressing against his neck. His hand reaches for the mysterious object and he pulls out your hoodie from between the pillows. The zipper is what's been poking him.
König gets up with the intention to give it back to you. His hand hovers above the handle of his door before he changes his mind and sits back down on the edge of the bed. You probably didn't notice you forgot it. If you really needed it you would have turned back. Perhaps you might already be in bed, who is he to trouble your sleep? He waits for you to come back, just in case. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
With a last glance at the clock, he lays down on his bed. He'll just give it back tomorrow.
König looks at the bunched up item of clothing in his hands. Like that it doesn't look like much. He unfolds it, holding it above his face to inspect it. It's just a grey zip-up hoodie. Nothing more, nothing less. Except for the fact that it's yours. König's thoughts start wandering. He drops it on his chest, thinking that not looking at it will help him stop picturing you in it. However, the way the fabric barely covers him truly gives him an idea of how small you are compared to him. König isn't big on physical contact, often shying away from the lightest touches–though what you don't know is that he's being cold to you for a whole different reason. And since you've never hugged, he can only imagine based on your hoodie how you'd look splayed out on him.
His face heats up at the idea. God what is he thinking. You're his friend. His only one at that. What if you were to find out about the thoughts he's been having about you? What would you think of him? He feels ashamed… but he can't help it.
König shifts his leg, the movement reminding him that something is happening. It's not right. He shouldn't be getting hard over the idea of keeping something that belongs to you to himself. When did his mind become so twisted? No normal person would even see it as special. But to him, it's an opportunity. This is the closest thing to you he can have that isn't… well, you.
He brings the hoodie up to his face shamefully, as if he might get caught if he moves too fast. Your scent makes his head spin. He knows what you smell like but you've never gotten close enough for it to be this intense. If he'd been asked to describe it before, he'd say your smell is warm and welcoming, but now he can actually put his finger on why that is. The first note that sticks out to him is vanilla, sweet and rich, followed by something a bit more… sensual–jasmine. On the one hand, the scent is soothing, on the other, it is intoxicating.
König moves his hand down to his crotch, too ashamed to look and witness his own arousal. As expected, his cock is hard under his palm, trapped between his thigh and his underwear. König takes a deep breath, trying to reason with himself, but in doing so, he inhales even more of you.
He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, throat going dry. There's no way he can ignore the throbbing length between his legs.
König pushes his shirt up slightly, his skin feeling hot under his fingers. He pictures your hand instead of his. He takes his time with it, doing it how he imagines you would. A single finger circles around his navel before traveling down, goosebumps rising at the touch. The air hitting his stomach is cold but his whole body feels like it's been lit on fire. He feels feverish, already too carried away to think.
His hand pauses as his fingers slip under the band of his underwear. God he's disgusting. He imagines you catching him in his current state, holding onto your hoodie like a gift fallen from heaven, touching himself to the thought of you because he'll never have the real thing, repeating those words to him. König curses. Why isn't that dissuading him? Why does mentioning his perversion make him want to act even more depraved?
As if it has a mind of its own, his hand progresses further until he finally takes a hold of himself. A forced exhale leaves him at the sudden contact. König takes his hand out of his boxers, only to push them and his sweatpants down in one quick motion. His freed cock heavily hits his stomach, his fingers quickly back around it. He shudders as he gives it a first a first stroke, his fingers coming up covered in precum.
König finally takes a look. The fluid is somehow more visible in the dim light of the room, glistening onto his skin. The tip of his dick is connected to his stomach by a string of precum, pink and neglected. He groans at the sight, letting his head fall back against the pillows. How did he get here? When did it get that bad?
When König came back from his recent mission, he thought it'd be easy to keep himself in check. He never let himself get distracted by thoughts of you on the job – despite everything he is a professional. That fooled him. He stupidly thought he could have that same level of self control with you right in front of him. Instead of giving in to his urges, he just let the fantasies pile up in his mind, telling himself that they'd go away on their own. Here he was now, utterly frustrated, arousal at an all time high. He'd basically been edging himself for days, refusing to commit the 'irreparable sin' that'd be jerking off to thoughts of you. So much for self control.
König can't take it any longer. He needs it now and he needs it quick. He starts pumping himself, fast and hard. If it wasn't for the precum coating his skin, the friction would be painful. His hand is rough and calloused, big and strong. Just like all of him. He's a brute, not even capable of being kind to himself. But you… you're gentle, small, fragile even. König tends to forget that you're a soldier–a fierce one at that. Compared to him, you're an angel. He knows there's blood on your hands but all he sees is how soft they are… soft, delicate hands. He'd love to hold them, hide them away between his palms to be the only one that ever gets to experience your touch. How much he wished it was your hand stroking him right now. He'd watch you struggle to hold him, your hand barely closing around his girth.
König is now basically fucking his hand, his noises thankfully muffled by your hoodie. He's never been really good at keeping quiet, mostly because he waits until he's needy and desperate to do something about it. He's not one to tease himself and create build up–at least not on purpose–but judging by how sensitive his dick is, it wouldn't be hard to find other spots that'd have him moaning like a bitch.
You like to poke fun at him, tease him, push your luck because he fucking lets you. Are you the same when it comes to sex? Just like you have a specific set of jokes you always make around him, you'd probably find the thing that drives him crazy and abuse it. A broken moan escapes his throat. If it feels that good just thinking about it, he's pretty sure his body will shut off if it happens in real life. If it happens…
His entire body is covered in a light layer of sweat, clothes clinging to his sticky and tense muscles. Your scent mixed with the smell of sex in the room is dizzying. His arm is getting tired from the relentless pace he's set but he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to. Though, judging by the way his thighs are starting to shake, he won't have to keep going for much longer.
His orgasm is close–the tingling sensation starts in his spine and he can feel it spread to every nerve ending in his body. His breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling quickly with each shallow gasp. A glimpse of clarity makes him pull his shirt up, exposing his torso. He pumps himself a few more times before his body goes tense like a wire, back arching off the bed as his hips give one last desperate thrust, cum spilling onto his stomach with a strangled moan.
König can barely move for a bit, still seeing stars behind closed eyelids. Only when his hand starts cramping does he realize how hard he's been holding onto your hoodie. He pulls the fabric off his face, fresh air hitting the heat of his cheeks. What did he just do?
He's never experienced an orgasm this intense but he wonders if it was worth the deep feeling of shame that immediately follows.
He lets go of himself and reaches for a tissue to clean up the mess he's made on his stomach. He doesn't want to soil the hand that's touching your hoodie. A pretty superficial boundary considering he just jerked off to it.