Chapter 1: Menial Work
“Rook, move your tight ass.”
He grunted as he shifted the large silver table on its tiny wheels, nodding as he was chastised.
“Present.” Rook confirmed, looking down at the huge flat case rested on its surface, a little confused. Usually he would just be given a smaller tray in hand to assist with. He wasn’t given things of value or importance. Of course not, he was just a rookie. The reason for the name.
That and he was a nosy little cunt, always poking his ‘beak’ into things.
“Well? Go.” The head spoke, marking down on his clipboard as he waved him down the corridor as others went to and from their jobs. It was so busy, everyone being marked down for their completed tasks manually by the scrawny technician head. His tag with the name ‘Fiver’ written across it. Certainly not his real name.
“Where to? And where is my-” Rook turned about. “Where’s Andrews?”
“Oh.” Rook swallowed. “But I was his understudy—I've only jus-”
“Well good luck, you just got promoted to his job. How nice for you.” The snide man said as he pulled a tag out his pocket which was obviously full of them and reached across, clipping it to Rooks mask, like he was flicking the ear tag of a sow. Demeaning.
How many years in university dissecting animals and making chemical bonds had been spent to get here again? Umbrella was supposed to be the absolute cutting edge of science and technology in the world, and yet everyone was weighed down by ego and apathy.
“Sir- I don’t even know what’s in this case or where to go.” Rook admitted, holding back rude comments of his own as he pulled the tag off his mask and properly clipped it onto the front of his lab gear. They had to be dressed to the teeth. The entire suit was designed not just to resist against blunt force trauma and slashing wounds, but against contaminants. A heavy gasmask, helm and neck ties hid his features and any looks of scepticism that Rook had. And any humanity too. No wonder everyone here was treated like cogs in a machine.
“Fucks sake.” The head of the department shoved his clipboard under his arm then grabbed the front of Rooks trolly, dragging it roughly along the corridor as others also filed in and out of the rooms. One man coming out was nursing a long scratch across his chest that leaked thin trails of red, boding well for what Rook was getting himself into now.
The lab door opened with a loud chime, Fiver pulling into it and then slamming his clipboard down, making Rooks shoulders jump an inch.
“T-Series, limiters- put them on in order from left to right.” Fiver opened the large case on top of the silver table, revealing a huge selection of black material and silver fittings.
“Check the list- note down any damage and anything you—ROOK.” Fiver reached over and thumped his shoulder. Rook dragged his attention back to him after staring down the huge set of containment chambers in front of him. Only one was on, full of dark liquid. They were like big glass vials, and he was reminded of mixing minerals with formulas in his early chemistry lessons.
“Yes, note down any irregularities. And if anything has spikes or teeth that shouldn’t- get my ass out. I know that bit.”
“Not completely useless.” Fiver said. “What you work with before?”
“Not this, and I never had to dress any Tyrant models or... any subje--”
“You dress yourself this morning?” Fiver snapped as he whipped up his clipboard.
“Then you’ll be fine.”
The man turned to the door, plugging in a few numbers at the control panel. “Or it will crush your head like a duck egg. Try keep your brain matter over the tiled floor panels so it's easier for my clean-up crew to deal with.” Fiver let the door shut behind him, locking Rook in who growled to himself.
He wasn’t sure that was a joke or not.
“Right, ok, ok...” Rook went to the case, finding the paper work and entry codes he needed, going to the huge glass container and carefully punching in the numbers with his gloved hand.
“1-3-3-6" He said out loud to himself, shifting awkwardly on the spot as he watched the fluid inside immediately start draining loudly. The swirl running down and creating a nice pattern of glistening silver bubbles as the subject inside was revealed... Like a prize on a game show.
“Ok” Rook adjusted his mask, the red tinted glass over his eyes making him squint. “3-1-7-3" He then prodded in, which had the clear front of the tube slide upwards, still dripping as the liquid continued to drain. Steam rising up out of it as Rook took a few steps back, looking over the next part of the document as he expected his job to walk on out.
His eyes to the paper work, quickly reading it over. Usually he would just do as Andrews told him, help him with tools, with sedating things... This was different. A much more menial task. Like a check-up and then... Rook sighed. Dressing? He really had to stand there fiddling with all these belts and buckles for ages? Well at least he had a few hours to get it all done.
The thud of feet brought his eyes up, looking at what he had to deal with. It was enormous. Far bigger than anything else he had to deal with. But, at least, less sharp toothed and angry. And he didn’t have to feed it pig guts and blood. There were worse jobs than having to dress one of the most stable of Umbrellas little projects.
Rook stared over the paper, seeing just how big it was.
How big he was.
Clearly a HE.
Rook rolled his eyes up and away quickly as the Tyrant stood to the silver gurney unit and then turned to face him. It knew this procedure, knew what was going to happen, even if he... it... THAT... didn't know the guy doing it this time. What did it matter? Rook looked like every single other worker here with this lab uniform. Rook glanced over to the station cupboard on the far wall, more kit and equipment exactly the same as his line up. He was replaceable and unoriginal. Not like the very expensive Tyrant here, an important piece of equipment.
With its own huge equipme —No, let's not make jokes and finger guns.
Rook hurried to the task at hand grabbing up the pants and huge boots out the case, trying to hurry over but feeling the intense weight of it all. It felt and looked like clean, well-made black leather, but the weight betrayed its real value. Limiters, designed to keep the T-series in check, putting a halt to any unsavoury and undesired side effects while also looking as inconspicuous as possible.
Rook huffed to himself as he quickly went up behind the Tyrant. How inconspicuous could it possibly look. Well, better this than say, a red cocktail dress, he guessed. Rook had gone around the back, assuming it would be so much easier (and less likely to lose an eye) to dress it from here. Instead he just hesitated seeing its ass. Very muscular, very well-toned. Nicely balanced. Had to be. Had to power those huge legs steering this freight train of a creature around. Just... Rook didn’t expect it to have that sort of ass.
The Tyrant turned his head a little to look down at him, as if noticing the long pause. Maybe it was concerned with its own status, thinking Rook had found damage, mutation... or...
“ Hnrhh ” Rook stifled a rude chuckle to himself as he reached out and pressed his hand to one cheek without thinking. It was so automatic. Maybe it was a coping mechanism for how awkward he felt, or wanting to mock something else after being made to feel worthless by the head technician? Whatever the case, it made him feel better as he then slid his hand round to the crest of its hip, pulling towards himself hard to guide it backward. It stayed rooted, Rook hardly able to shift it an inch. Like pushing against stone.
“Back- Seated.” Rook loudly ordered, knowing it would obey direct orders if it couldn’t follow gentler in hand hints.
The Tyrant stepped back swiftly, one leg thudding into Rooks side as it moved surprisingly fast as it then sat itself down on the silver gurney.
“Ow.” Rook complained but it was his own fault for being in the way. Or maybe it had done it purposefully as a warning about the grab at its ass. Looking into its apathetic, almost robotic blank expression convinced Rook however that it had no such intentions... Silent, staring directly in front of it at the blank wall.
Rook grunted, pulling its pants on as quickly as he could, then sorting out its boots one at a time, testing over the feel. If anything felt ill fitting- that meant something was mutating and changing. The most important places to note being the upper shoulders, chest and the thighs. The most muscle mass would be the first to deviate from the norm and Rook quickly man handled round its lower thighs, not even thinking to try go up higher. This was really degrading. Even if it had no emotions at all about what Rook was doing; Rook was still pressing his fingers over its inner thighs. Its huge, thick, heavy thighs. So strong. Toned.
“Step.” Rook sharply demanded, feeling his face flush, glad that part was over.
At once a great thud sounded out as he was presented with a leg as the Tyrant knelt down, ready for the first very important limiter belts. These were the strongest part of the whole get up, the uniforms first failsafe. The thick black belts with shining, polished silver buckles being wrapped around each leg, two each. And of course, one directly to the foot, tied across the boot to secure it all. Rook struggled at first. The belt had but one hole- and the catch had to be pushed into it. But they were tied on ferociously tightly, and he had to brace himself against it’s knee as he pulled and secured each one, feeling sweat running down his brow. Thank Christ he worked out.
“This is a fucking two-person job...” Rook growled to himself as he used the back of his hand to tap its side.
“Up- Get up--” He had forgotten to order it verbally. He was used to more... stupid things that needed to be poked and prodded in order to be told what to do. Perhaps it was good the Tyrants didn’t need physical direction and only verbal orders. What with their huge stature. But Rook was tired and wanted this done with by now. He was flustered. And angry with himself for being flustered.
It’s a Tyrant.
It’s a biological weapon.
It’s a tool.
He came hunkered over the table, gathering up the next parts of the uniform in his arms as his breathing began to fog up the fronts of his eyes, the red glass catching his hot, throaty panting.
I got a few tools at home, but none as big as him.
“Fuck.” Rook dropped one of the many, many belts meant to go around its chest as the invasive, perverse thought popped into his head like a cat jumping onto him from a light fitting.
The Tyrant looked down at it, the long black material looking much like a snake, coiled up in a jumble.
“... Yeah, I’ll get it.” Rook mooed out, as if expecting the thing to be considerate and help him. That’s not how this works... Rookie.
For the next part; Rook had to get up on the gurney himself as he looped the many belts around its torso, affixing each with great difficulty. At one point he put his knee to its back in order to have enough strength to fit the one at the top. It made no complaints, nor did it help in anyway. Indifferent to the tiny man buzzing around, tying things to him on his own.
Its pale eyes wandered down to look at him as he took a second, hand rested on its side, trying to catch his breath. Usually it had a team of three people doing this. Or at least two... One all alone was new.
“Alright, next...” Rook said but paused, growling as he came around the front and noticed he had somehow criss-crossed two belts over each other incorrectly, making them bunch up a little under its pectoral muscles. It looked uncomfortable. Why the fuck didn’t it take note of—Oh whatever. Rook climbed back up to redo his job once more. This time wrapping his arms around its chest to make sure he had them the right way round .
He’d be terrible at putting on a ladies bra.
“Arms, up- up-UP.” He ordered, pressing his hands all over its chest, fumbling furiously till he got it right.
“You got massive tits for a guy...” Rook muttered to himself, trying to make a joke to make himself feel a bit better. It made no reaction at all.
“Bet you’re good at hugging.” He pulled the buckles tight again, straining avidly as he clasped them shut once again.
“Right, sorry, done. Next, next—Put your arms down now.” Rook said as he clambered back down and went to get the next set of belts and gloves. Why was he apologising to it...?
“Left.” He asked, reaching out to take its left hand which it offered up at once. He slipped the glove on after feeling over the knuckles quickly, no spikes, no claws. Good. All fine. He tied the single belt around its arm next, again, struggling to get it tight enough.
“Right.” Rook said, waiting for its right hand.
“Right.” Rook repeated when it didn’t move.
“I mean your right hand, not, that’s right. Right hand.” Rook tried again, smiling as he got the correct reaction.
His smiled faded immediately as his finger pushed against something at the palm. He flipped its hand over, rubbing intently at the spot. The start of a spike coming up out the skin? A tooth? A fucking eye? Who knows what mutations it might have now turning up. He was warned to report any irregularities right away, and he stroked up and down its hand repeatedly, trying to figure out where he had felt the small bump.
Its fingers clasped lightly over his hands.
“No, let go, let me look.” Rook demanded. The fingers flexing back out.
He couldn’t find the bump again. Maybe he had just pushed against it’s tendon in a weird way. But he would have to mark this down. He checked again, turning the huge grey hand over to try feel it in the same way he had the first time.
Again it went to close its fingers around his own. This time, slowly. Purposefully.
Rook stiffened on the spot, looking up and finding its gaze trained down on him.
… Was it going to punch him, crush his head... Bite him?
It simply let go as Rook pulled his hands back.
“... You’re ok.” He said sheepishly, finding his face feeling warm. Stupid gas mask bullshit. But also, stupid thing, making him feel so put on like that. The way it stared at him, white eyes boring into his entire soul. He reached back out and stroked the huge fingers, as if to reassure, though, maybe he was doing it for other reasons. Perhaps one could infer.
Rook pulled the last black glove on, tying three distinct belts round the right arm. Important, all subjects were right handed, so mutation favoured that side. It had to be restricted more as such, the limiters tripled here for that added fail-safe.
“...Good. Good.” Rook said softly as he finished up and went to the table again to fetch the last three belts. Two medium sized and one smaller. All the time he sweated like a whore in church. Ok, well, nearly done now. All the hard bits are done with.
My hard bits not done with.
Rude thoughts aside, he climbed back on the gurney and pulled the first belt round its neck, pulling it tight. Like putting a choke collar on a dog. With much the same reaction.
It made a small noise, a little grunt.
“You ok?” Rook asked quickly, letting it go slack instead of fitting the clasp.
It said nothing. It never said anything. Stupid to ask.
He tried again, pulling tight and clasping it down before grabbing up on the second and repeating the motion.
A noise, again, but also a slight tilt of the head, as if keening away from him.
“Ok, ok...” Rook stopped, letting it go slack as he looked round the front, making sure they were not crossed over or any stupid mistakes again. Instinctively he rubbed his hand to the back of its neck, like giving a cat some nice gentle scritches .
“What am I doing wrong then...” He asked, leaning heavy on its shoulder as he lifted its chin up with his other hand, fiddling about before noticing the tip of one black collar was tucked slightly down on his other side.
“This is why you need two fucking guys to do this--” Rook sighed, having to fix an error again that would have been quickly spotted if there was someone on the other side.
“Or you to dress yourself.” Rook added, a bit rudely.
And this time it noticed, turning its head fully to look at him. Rook hesitated, belt still in hand.
“Uh. Or. You know... I’ll... do it.” Rooks attitude fizzled, crumbling under those dark pits, the white pin points in the middle subjecting him to an apathetic gaze. The same gaze that would just as easily reach over and break him in two like a KitKat.
“I’ll just... “ Rook whispered, his shoulders high as he slowly wrapped the belt back around and shuffled to try tighten it. Thankfully it looked back straight ahead as he continued working and he was able to clasp it on in silence before moving to climb down.
A hand came out, holding onto his arm and Rook squeaked before he was then lowered to the floor instead.
“Tha-hanks. Thanks...” Rook whimpered out as he backed up swiftly. The head technician had made him feel small, emotionally. But the Tyrant had made him feel.... tiny and pathetic physically. Rushing to the table to get the last belt and coming back.
Nearly done, just this, then the coat and it’s done, it’s over, he can go home and--
Rook stared at the belt in his hands, curling it round and finding it... terribly small.
“Where does...” He looked at the paper work, but it didn’t say. It didn’t say a lot. Just to secure them all... tightly.
“Hang on let me read...” Rook said as he carefully read the entire pages over, step by step. Looking at the final diagrams and not seeing it there at all.
“Ok, you got arms- and legs... so not a wrist. And there's no way this is fitting your ankle mate.” The procedure was for this model, specifically. And it listed its name and all of the limiters to be applied.
“X... Mr. X.” Rook grumbled to himself, still unsure as he cast the useless papers back on the table and decided to go look himself.
“Well X marks to spot.” He huffed.
“Nope, nuttah, no.” He could see it wasn’t thick enough for his neck. He walked around it slowly, tutting to himself. What was it fucking for its tongue?
Was it an extra?
Rook puzzled over it, standing in front of the Tyrant as he tried to think.
“ ... You... have to be kidding. ” Rook hushed out.
“No.” He went back to the paper work.
“No way.” He repeated, feeling ice run up his arms, trepidation, fear, confusion... Arousal.
“They make you wear this on your fucking dick?”
Chapter 2: Spookened
“They make you wear a limiter as a cock ring??” Rook said as he turned to look at the Tyrant. Shocked to his core. Stunned. Shooked... Spookened.
It breathed out, as if tired of Rooks bullshit by now. Just get it done.
“I have to put this on your- No.” Rook shook his head, but still stepped towards it all the same.
“It’s that thick?” He asked, watching carefully as he reached over and undid the belt at its waist, feeling the Tyrant shift on the spot. Like it knew.
“Fuck. Fuck. ” Rook hissed out through his teeth. Yes, that was... the only thing that would be the right size.
“Ah Christ, fuck.” Rook pulled the front of its pants open proper, squaring up, trying to muster some courage. He bet he was supposed to do this part first, before the pants. Now that it had them on it felt way more sexually tense. Not to mention how its dick was so high up, he didn’t have to get on his knees to be mouth level with it.
What the fuck, don’t think that.
It’s a job. It’s just a job.
Firmly, trying to do it in a professional manner, he reached out and lifted the shaft up with his left hand, feeling the weight before looping the belt round with his right.
Rook wasn’t sure why he did it; but he glanced up. Hoping perhaps for confirmation that the Tyrant was still staring right ahead like usual.
Oh , no.
It was watching him, eyes focused. It didn’t look as... blank as before. There was an expression feeding in there, subtly, but Rook withered under it. Being judged. Being glared down at.
“Uh.” He peeped, going back to what was in his hands and trying to pull the clasp and tighten it.
A loud grunt made him stop instantly, his boots squeaking on the lab floor as he tried to push the panic back down. Was he hurting it, making it angry?
“Sorry- sorry- X- sorry-” Rook repeated, wincing as his cheeks flared with heat, looking to the side and trying to put his mind elsewhere. Anywhere else. He didn’t sign up for this. He wasn’t meant to do this. He needed to quit, he needed to do something with machines or with... with wires. And chemistry.
There was a long drawn out sigh from above, Rook looking back up. It didn’t sound angry or fed up. More relaxed. Maybe this was as awful for the Tyrant as it was for Rook? Embarrassing, but had to be done and--
Rook was stroking up and down it’s shaft, reflexively, while he was panicking. Just fucking softly jerking it off with his right hand while the left held to the strap. An automatic motion? Just go into autopilot?
“UH- oh, fuck.” He said, but didn’t stop. Out of fear or... Perhaps because he wanted to.
Yeah, because he wanted to. Watching the Tyrant above him shift its weight, looking down at him, breathing harder. The longest reaction he had gotten out of it yet.
“... Anyone done this before?” Rook asked, as if he would get an answer, gripping tightly now as he began to pump his hand back and forth hard.
“Just put this on you and dress you.” Rook mumbled out as he let the belt fall back, wanting to go from tip to base proper, now bracing his other hand on its stomach, the abdominals there firm under his palm.
He pushed his weight to it, using his full arm and shoulder to thread its dick through his fingers, stroking eagerly, seeing how erect it was getting, how keen it was right away. He was right, X had not been touched like this before. Of course not. It... He. Had never done anything. The idea made doing this all the more enticing to Rook. All these stuck-up assholes in this facility and no one was fully utilising what they had here.
And screw it. I don’t want this fucking job anyway.
Rook pulled his gasmask down, letting him breath in without the filtration as the cables trailed over his shoulders from round his neck. Right away he felt the chill hit his bare skin. The thing wasn’t warm in the slightest and it surprised Rook, but not as surprised as X when the man leaned in, wrapping one arm up around its huge hip and pressing his mouth to the side of its length. His tongue pushing out over his bottom lip as he tasted the dark grey toned flesh there.
Cold, synthetic. More like sucking at silicone or plastics than at flesh. Maybe a touch of something... He dragged his tongue up, tracing the underside as he closed his eyes and moaned softly, tasting.
Like the aftertaste of blood. Just a hint. The only thing betraying the monster's organic nature. But it was pleasant, far better than any guys Rook had taken to sucking off in the past for fun. Or in order to land a job here in the first place. And no one was this big. Hell, none of his tools at home were quite this big.
Eh, maybe not too far off though.
Rook pulled back to look, sliding both hands down now either side, thumbs looped underneath as he judged critically. Eyes measuring up under the red glass of the front of his mask. Eye protection was going to be paramount today, indeed. He leaned in, pressing the tip to his lips and lightly running his tongue over the small slit, trying to coax a little fluid. The urethra was a touch darker than the rest of the tip, the shift in colour from the main shaft obvious. A sort of marble grey, tiniest hint of blue but the flesh beyond was far deeper, toned nearly black where details ducked inwards. Veins, small pores, divots, bulges. While overall it looked very human, there were however small aspects that clearly were not. The head especially had little nubs all over that felt wonderful; small, only clear when you got really close. Or ran your tongue over them while groaning hungrily.
“That’s fucking amazing” Rook said, voice muffled as he continued indulging himself.
He didn’t care what the Tyrant looked like above. If it was confused, or angry, or just morbidly curious. Nothing about its face was more interesting than this; Rook pushing the meat of his thumbs round the folds of flesh directly behind the head, feeling it slide back and forth with ease. What’s more, there were all kinds of interlaced textures to the upper side of the length, contrasting the smooth, silky feeling of the underside. Bumps and dips, nothing too ridiculous or... challenging, but inhuman all the same. So interesting. So delightful.
Wonder if I can reach them?
Rook rocked from heel to toe on his boots, standing prone to the Tyrants legs and hips as he ran his tongue round the corners of his mouth. His fingers tracing slowly over the top, those bumps were only about half way down. Surely his mouth could get that far?
He swallowed, finding he couldn’t get his finger and thumb of his right hand to touch when he looped them around. Girthy.
Well, won’t know till you try.
He breathed in deep, exhilarated at the idea and so turned on by how naughty he was being, how taboo this all was. He could get in so much trouble, and not just with his fellow staff; he could be killed, maybe even infected. All kinds of risks were being toyed with as Rook dismissed absolutely all of them as he pushed his head down, gurgling a moment on his own drool as he found the tip to be a lot wider in circumference than what he thought. He winced, feeling his eyes dampen before he kept going, determined to try get further down. Usually he was expert in keeping his teeth out the way and his tongue pushed out over his lower lip; but with a dick this big it just couldn’t be helped. He only just got to the back of the head when he felt it press down into his throat.
He sputtered a little, pulling back up and taking in a deep breath as he let his saliva coat down his chin and neck, long threads of it connecting his tongue still to the cool grey flesh.
No, he could to better than that, and he shunted himself back down with renewed enthusiasm, choking himself without any regard as his cheeks heaved, struggling to breath proper as he kept going, the back of his throat protesting as he forced the Tyrants dick down it. The hideous sound of Rook pumping his head up and down filled the room, trying to get used to the strain, feeling his shoulders slacken as he continued.
It got easier, though he could feel the heat coming off his cheeks. They must be so blushed out, good contrast to the pretty much monochrome skin he was dealing with. Curious, wasn’t it, that while he knew the Tyrant was filled with red blood, there was no sign of it on the outside. Not even the corners of its eyes showed any hint of rosy hue. But without resorting to shooting or stabbing it, he had all the proof he needed that there was hot blood running through it. He huffed. Cold blood. Filling all the most important parts. Parts he was gagging loudly on, drool lathered down across the black material on its legs and smeared up across his own hands.
Rook used his sticky mitts round the base, gripping tightly and happily pumping them here and there as he worked with his mouth. He could feel the start of the first of the bumps touching his top lip, encouraging him as he opened his eyes as much as he could, squinting as he then pulled back up, twisting his mouth to the right as he tried again and was rewarded as he got midway down, saliva beading up at the rim of his lips as he manoeuvred an inch back and forth, feeling his neck bulge outward at the motion. Tears finally rolled down from the corner of his eyes, but he was thrilled. It hurt a little, and he was sure he had torn the side of his mouth but he was too submerged in his own pride and arousal that he didn’t care.
Abruptly he felt the shaft pulled from his mouth, leaving him gagging lightly, coughing and rubbing his mouth as he looked up. He also braced a little. He was sure he was about to be punched clean off his feet, an angry Tyrant getting fed up and finally coming the conclusion that this was not proper procedure . Instead Rook saw X, hunkering back a little, eyes closed, face tilted away. Strained. Shoulders rolled up, not in preparation to thump the shit out of him but in a defensive position. Ass to the silver table behind, trapped between little Rook and the metal.
“ Oh was that too much?” Rook said, rubbing the drool from his mouth as he stepped forward, not ready to stop just yet. The Tyrant opened its eyes but kept them focused elsewhere. Still no expression on its mouth. Maybe it physically couldn’t move its lips to smile or frown or tell him to get the fuck out of here. No. It only breathed heavily, bracing on the table as Rook closed the gap.
“Should I go away?” He asked softly, running his hands up the black material of its thighs he had himself, personally dressed it in. Looking after it, maintaining it. It needed to be cared for, just like everyone else.
Rook, growing in confidence, and growing somewhere else as well, lifted himself up, climbing up onto its legs and sitting his ass down on its lap as he now pinned it to the table. Pff, pinned. X could shove him off like a kitten if it so wanted to. But it stayed put, chest rising and falling as Rook hummed and slid his hands up to it, feeling the belts over, tight as ever. Restrained. So kinky, so rich in fetish gear, without even trying. But it would be nice to see skin, Rook eagerly undoing his work from earlier as he unclipped all the belts one by one, his hands a little frantic to pry the monster free when he then reached up to the two hooked round its neck.
Finally, it looked back at him, as if the motion towards its face was a challenge. Rook paused, fingers held inches from its thick jaw line before he stroked lightly. This was the most romantic thing Rook had done in years, his heart thudding loudly in his ears as he shuffled his legs up, getting closer then leaning in to kiss. So romantic, so dreamy. Closing his eyes as he pressed his mouth to its own.
Holy fuck, so cold.
He pulled back quickly, he had not been kissed back in the slightest and it was obvious the Tyrant hadn’t changed its expression in anyway. It had just stared at him the entire time. Was like trying to snog a wall.
Rook sighed, rolling his eyes at the idea of trying to be cutesy with this enormous biological weapon. That was clearly not how this was going to go. Well, he wasn’t sucking its dick because he wanted to make out with it.
He let his hands fall from its cheeks as he went to undo the belts round its neck, only to be stopped as a black gloved hand reached up to hold his wrist. A little jab of fear hit his chest, Rook looking up, wondering if this would be an end to all the fun.
Instead his hand was guided down, pressed to fastenings on his own uniform. Rook sat confused, not sure what was being asked at first. The Tyrant was looking down at his uniform, its eyes staring at it then back up at Rook. It would be so much easier if it could talk.
“Oh- Oh! You want me to undo- Yes, yes, of course.” Rook complied, not hiding the wide grin on his face as he began undoing his uniform, having to mess with the zip and catches at the top under his neck. He fumbled, trying to take the fastenings off one at a time, unzipping it just a few inches before getting caught up on the next.
X grunted and seemed frustrated, grabbing at the material at his waist impatiently.
“I am taking it off, you have to do the top first, it’s all one suit that you--” Rook yelped as he felt the material torn away easily, searing into his skin before it ripped. He gripped his sides, wincing, like carpet burns on his ass and hips as the material was easily pulled from his body.
“I could have unzipped it.” Rook began before his hands were pried from him, both wrists easily fitting into just one of the Tyrants hands as it pulled Rooks arms out the way, up over his head. The motion jostled his helm and the mask shifted back up over his mouth, smothering the loud gasp dragged up his throat as he felt freezing cold stroke up his now bare stomach.
His eyes blurred a second as he struggled to open his lids further, wanting to look down at what was happening. At first, he thought the Tyrant had removed a glove and was rubbing a thumb or fingertip to his bare pale skin.
“Oh shit.” Rook whimpered as he saw instead it licking at his stomach and over his ribcage, doing it exactly as Rook had earlier. Using the flat of the tongue to press hard before levelling off and pulling the tip up at the end. Using his advanced blow job techniques except on his entire body- mocking Rook perhaps in the fact that his torso was the most similar sized thing he had to the Tyrants massive dick.
Rook dropped his gaze , pulling his lips into a frown as his hands were still kept firmly above his head despite his protests and struggles against the Tyrants hold . He wanted to take his helm and mask off again, wanted to reach out with greedy hands and stroke it, wanted to guide it a little lower if he could be so bold. Rook was a little amused that the Tyrant could use its jaws at all. He had begun to suspect the reason its mouth was always in the same, vacant expression, was because it simply couldn’t open it. Thrilled to be proven wrong as he squirmed lightly as the Tyrant continued to lap at him, feeling the heat that came off a regular human's body, the sweat that beaded up on the surface of blushed skin and the way he would shudder and tremble here and there.
“Alright, alright- stop. You’re going to make me cum.” Rook begged, shaking his head side to side, feeling precum dampen the front of the shredded uniform as he fogged up his mask again. No one had ever done this to him. No one ever could do this to him. It took a monster to get him this worked up, this exhilarated. Relieved when it obeyed and stopped, looking at him with the same cold, emotionless expression as before. But now Rook knew there was a lot going on behind the vacant gaze. Calculating and wanting.
The small man let out a long dreamy sigh, testing the hold on his arms and finding them still held fast.
“I think it’s time we fucked.”
Chapter 3: In Good Company
Rooks mouth was absolutely swimming with saliva, trying not to drown in it as he looked over himself, needing to be properly undressed. And he would require the Tyrant to assist him in that.
“Ok, can you-” Rook reached round his uniform, guiding the monster's hands over the white material covering his hips, now unable to be removed conventionally with zip and clasps at the front broken. He wanted it to finish what it had started and tear the rest away, free the tiny man from his bindings but X had very little understanding of what Rook was trying to imply. It instead seemed to enjoy having its enormous paws pressed over Rooks body. Sliding its huge hands up round Rook’s back and then cupping his ass cheeks with both hands.
Rook made a long low noise at the back of his throat, groaning as the Tyrant rubbed at his flesh, squeezing fistfuls of the technician's ass. A good guess on the monster's part, but not quite what was needed. Rook tried again;
“Tear it off, this.” Rook said as he pulled at the material still clung to his backside.
X blinked, then tried to do as directed, holding the white polyester fibre and pulling it to the right. Rook careened off its lap as the material refused to give way, gripping tightly at the black belts round its chest to avoid ending up on the floor.
“I mean rip it, just rip it upwards.” Rook explained quickly, gritting his teeth as he pulled its black gloves off, thinking it could connect to two actions.
X raised its hand as instructed, lifting Rook up cleanly, with just one arm. Its immense strength displayed when Rook was left dangling up a few inches over its body, wriggling slightly as he grew angry at how well made the uniform actually was, putting a dampener on the whole spontaneous frivolity.
“This is still better than most of my first dates.” Rook admitted as he felt like a puppy being held by the scruff of the neck before finally X assessed the situation proper, understanding a better method and pressing Rook hard to its body with one hand, using the other to tear directly through the back of the uniform. It broke one of the cables running from the gas mask which let off a high-pitched hiss, covering up Rooks own noises as he was held tight to its huge chest while he was torn from his clothing. Slowly, meticulously pried free.
He could feel its heart thud, so slow, so paced. Nothing like Rooks own which was jumping about anxiously under his ribs as if trying to break out. No, X was so calm, so serene and unphased by anything. Made to be that way. Precise, well-oiled machine in biological form. Breathing in and out gradually, methodically, muscles flexing under Rooks weight, light as it was. Its pectoral muscles were so soft. It had a wealth of cleavage that Rook just wanted to bury his face in, hide way from his jobs and responsibilities in the pillow like mass of flesh. But he had something that was even more rewarding to attend to than being smothered to death in the monster's arms.
Backside and most of his spine now exposed, Rook could feel the chill of the lab across his skin as if the creature sucked the warmth out of his flesh. It was cold , like touching stone more than a living thing. But that only added to the intrigue, reminding Rook whose lap he was sat on. He peeled himself up and away from its chest, levelling his body upright as he examined the damage to his uniform. His chest and most his side uncovered, and the Tyrant finishing the removal of clothing from Rooks entire back. He wondered if he should suggest it completely tear the suit off, especially at the front of his hips but any requests were lost in his mouth as it returned both hands to his ass. Chill , but not harsh. Just enough to make Rook whimper, looking over his shoulder as his flesh bunched between the thick fingers. It really liked that soft warm part of Rook.
Oh, but who doesn’t.
“Keep- stay there, just--” Rook knew something that would please it more, sliding down its lap till he felt himself stopped by its shaft, still erect as ever, hilting up against his body. All the saliva Rook had left on its dick was now icy, making the tiny man hitch his breath, surprised at the contrast of his unbearably hot skin and the chilled fluid coating the inside of his thighs. It did not deter him, Rook gathering his bearings before guiding his body in a steady curve, letting his own bare chest graze along the others as he grinded away. Dry humping. Or more like wet and sticky, gross humping. Rook revelling in the viscous noise coming from behind him as he let his ass press to the top of its length, the grey skin with its subtle iridescent sheen getting hugged either side by the saturated red tones of human meat. And it seemed to know, or come to a conclusion that the tighter it pressed, the better it would feel.
Rook purred, licking his top lip as he felt confident enough to let this move onto the next, far more important step. It was kindly though to at least let the Tyrant get a taste of what that new step would entail. Movement like that, having Rook riding over the top of it, judging its response. Or lack of one. He manoeuvred, rolling his hips a little as he leant them up, wriggling to get into the perfect position. It was difficult. Very. His legs were not quite big enough to comfortably sit his knees either side of the Tyrants huge body. But he persisted, wincing as he reached back with one hand to lift the shaft upwards, trying to guide the tip towards his body rather than arching away from him, it’s weight alone had it hang at a low arc, nothing like what Rook had himself. He was as hard and straight as could be with the material of his uniform still wrapped about the front of his pelvis.
The Tyrant breathed out loudly, moving its shoulders either in discomfort or impatience as Rook took his time, nervously grinding around till he was able to get the head to push up against his opening. Saliva and other fluids Rook couldn’t see were making everything slippery, and while Rook knew that all that slick would be desperately needed for what was next, it didn’t make the job of getting such an enormous cock angled to push into him any easier.
I know what I’m doing. I know, I know what I’m doing.
The thoughts repeated, but it didn’t help to settle his heart. Rook had a wealth of experience doing this; getting fucked. But never in this way. With a huge monster. Maybe he was right to be sweating and shivering so much. He could hear his heartbeats thudding in his ears as he tried to banish away his concerns and doubt as his fingers held firm, pushing his hips down finally.
“Ah, fuck.” He strained the words out, his shoulders held high as he felt the pressure, the slight sting of refusal at the outset, no satisfying breach into him. He wasn’t as relaxed as he should be, of course not. But he was going to just do this by force if he had to, straightening up so he could take a deep breath. He could do this. Tucking his chin down into his collar for a second attempt as he hissed and pushed down as hard as he could, making a point to shift his weight from knee to knee as he demanded penetration.
The sudden acceptance had Rook whimper loudly, feeling a good few inches push into him all at once. The Tyrant had a similar reaction. It had no idea what Rook was trying to do, all it felt first was someone pushing down on the top of its dick, compressing its length a little until something tight was gripping about its entire head and down just below it. Extremely hot too, Rook’s insides being way warmer than his skin, and that in itself was miles above what the Tyrant had for a body temperature. The contrast was stark, making both of them stiffen, adjusting to it before Rook smiled weakly.
Sure, it hurt a little at the start, but he had done it. Sighing with relief as he lifted his hips up slowly, feeling the rim of the tip drag against his entrance before he pushed back down eagerly, finding himself greedy for more length as he was finally allowed to relax and enjoy it. Rook looked up at the creature's face, keen to know what it thought of someone sitting down on its dick.
It looked confused more than anything, but not upset. There was no sign of distress and Rook reassured himself that if X hadn’t wanted to continue, it would have punched him ages ago. No, Rook knew it liked this. It was just all so new.
“Do you like how I feel?” Rook whispered, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, letting his body adjust and loosen up on the first few inches as he humped carefully.
Rook got no answer as expected but the creature's eyes darted up to his face for a second before returning to stare down between their legs at what was going on. That was far more interesting than Rook looking coy and horny. But the technician wanted the attention, pressing both hands flat to its chest as he eagerly lifted his body up and then held there, leaving just the tip in him as he breathed in deep and slammed his hips down as hard as he dared. Finally, a proper reaction. The Tyrant lurched upwards, so close its chin nearly bashed into Rooks forehead. Green eyes wide and thrilled while he heard the troubled exhale as the monster gripped round the tiny man who truly wanted to know what it thought and felt about this. Hands tight to Rooks body, desperate and steadying him as Rook’s fingers dug into the grey skin wrapped over those huge muscles.
Put those muscles to work for me.
Rook rolled his body back and forth ambitiously, finding it so easy now, feeling disgusting and sticky down there but it all helped to keep things lubricated and other than the thickness prying him open, there was little resistance to his thrusts. All the texture was amazing, the bumps and ridges of the middle slotting into him before tugging on the withdrawal, intense, disturbing, satisfying. Inhuman.
“Feels better than my mouth, right?” Rook moaned, sliding his hands over its abdominals as he sat up taller, wanting to look down at himself and see what he was achieving. It was more than he expected.
Rook swallowed, brows raised as he saw his lower stomach shift as he pressed down. The Tyrant was so big it caused a small bulge to push up inside him as he took its entire length. The technician earnestly pulled a hand up to stroke the swell in his flesh, confirming that yeah, that was its dick inside him. Rook was so wound up in his own success he hadn't noticed the big grey hand reaching out to touch over it as well, copying Rooks explorative caresses. He moaned, sliding his hand round the huge grey knuckles, letting it fondle him with no shame. Proud of it as he then lightly thrust, making sure it knew that he was ok. Maybe it was concerned, or better yet, enjoying what it could see with those dark, mysterious eyes. Those dreamy, otherworldly pupils watching Rook as the technician mewled softly, putting both hands up round its neck. So strong but finally the muscles there relaxed, its stiff shoulders left slumped, only shifting slightly every time Rook thrust back down, smoothly, comfortably.
He felt his rhythm interrupted as a small hump upwards caught him off guard. It was short, no force involved, just the huge hips arching up to meet his. Rook, desperate to encourage, lifted himself up, waiting for hint of motion before pushing down. The first three or four thrusts were awkward, X getting a little too eager and rutting up at Rook as he was on the rise.
It really needed this, didn’t it?
“Push down with your hands when you want me to move.” Rook hushed out, closing his eyes to focus and try help it. It wanted to fuck him, only needed patience and a little guidance. Rook felt a note of pride, the fact it was now trying to engage and clearly enjoying this. With him. Rook grunted, wanting to prove his worth as he grit his teeth and began pumping down avidly, sweat dripping off his upper arms and heaving chest. He was desperate to earn that affection, not caring about the strain and the dull ache in his stomach as his body began to protest the prolonged intrusion being stuffed into him repeatedly. He could feel the friction mounting, the once wet, slick noises now absent and replaced with Rooks moans and metallic thuds from gurney under them. The Tyrant in contrast was the most silent thing in the room, its motions restricted, as if not wanting to interrupt whatever the hell its technician was doing, that wonderful, engrossing thing.
Rook spat into his hand quickly, needing to reapplying lubricant without hesitation as he reached down and grabbed the base of its shaft, feeling just how thick it was with his hand as he slathered it in saliva again. He was about to let go when a throb had him smile, feeling it through not just his fingers but up inside him.
“You’re getting close, huh?” Rook beamed, reaching up to its shoulders as he studied its expression. Tired. Not confused. Just, so very exhausted. Panting in long deep breaths through its mouth. Rook did this. You could shoot this thing for ten minutes straight and it wouldn’t flinch, but this weedy little cunt of a human had it struggling to catch its breath. Emboldened and feeling his own climax lurking, Rook doubled his efforts, disregarding his more carefully aimed motions and crashing his body down, feeling the twitches inside him warn of what was approaching. The monster had begun to stiffen up, dragging in mouthfuls of air as it struggled with the all absorbing rush. It had no idea what it was, just felt the smother of it, dragged towards it as Rook made smaller, harder motions, thudding down on its hips.
Rook kept staring, focused, watching, wanting so much to know what it looked like when it came. Would it growl maybe? Look timid and weak for a split second? Rook got all wrapped up in the emotion and elation of what reaction he might produce that he let his own climax creep up on him, sputtering to a stop as he pressed down, fingers digging into the grey flesh as he called out and reflexively shut his eyes, cum seeping through the shreds of his uniform as his body tightened, shudders racing up and down his hot skin.
It was not to last.
Rook let out a confused groan, feeling heat swell in his body before an all mighty jerk upwards, forcing him to lean backwards, hands braced back on the Tyrants thighs as he felt heat pour into him, eliciting all manner of whimpers and pleaded words as Rook was filled to the brim. He’d never experienced something like that before, it felt like he was being hosed from the inside. Rook shakily opening his eyes and pulled his body back forward again, his tongue peeking over his teeth as he blinked, confused as the Tyrant peered back at him, any emotion it had experienced having been missed in the moment.
Damn. I didn’t get to see.
Rook sighed, finding amusement in it as the Tyrant heaved, eyelids heavy as its body slumped, draining of tension. It shut its mouth finally once its breathing stabilised, looking away to the side, processing what had happened. But still, it kept its hands round him, despite how worn out it was, it refused to let him go. Affectionate or possessive, hard to say. Didn’t matter, Rook found it unbearably cute.
And Rook didn’t care if it didn’t understand the feeling, he needed to kiss it. Clambering up off its lap, shoving his mouth against its lips and groaning loudly. A response as blank as before but Rook lifted his hips up a few degrees, letting cum seep out between their bodies and trickle to the floor below. He didn’t mind, kissing against its apathy anyway, wrapping his arms round its neck and licking over its bottom lip. Finally, it opened its mouth, letting Rook in closer. It had no idea how to kiss him back, but just parting its jaw a fraction was all Rook needed to engross himself in making out with it. His tongue delved in and he hummed loudly, opening his eyes to see what it was doing. He thought he’d see two white eyes staring down at him but they were actually closed, imitating what Rook was doing, learning fast.
“Mrrhm ... Good.” Rook praised as he pulled back, letting his mouth hang open as he stared up at it, a web of saliva training from his mouth and clinging to the Tyrants face repulsively. X opened its eyes to see Rook, tired, before squinting at the man's lips, how wet and soft they were.
It liked that. Even if it couldn’t kiss properly yet, it loved Rooks little face. It raised its thumb to his skin , smoothing it over Rooks mouth before pushing it in. How did Rook do that with his face? How did he ‘pet’ it with his mouth. It felt so good, and the Tyrant puzzled over it as Rook hungrily licked over the digit pressing down on his tongue. He then sucked round it like a slut, amused at the sound when the Tyrant pulled his hand back, looking at its palm as if the secrets of being a good kisser would be hidden there. The sound was repeated as Rook finally lifted his body up fully, gasping and clutching his stomach as he felt a truly hideous amount of fluid gush out of him, cascading to the floor below as if someone had just upended an entire gallon tub of melted ice cream .
“Ugh-buh—sorry-?” Rook said as he watched the Tyrant peer over Rooks back, watching the mess spread further and further, soaking down its legs. It was really interested in that, as if unsure who had made all that liquid. It even glanced at Rook slightly accusingly?
“That’s all yours, don’t side eye me like that...” Rook put up his palms, leaning back as his cheeks blushed deep red. All it had done was shift its gaze onto Rooks face for a fraction of a second before returning it to the floor. Such a small gesture meant nothing on the features of a human, but on a Tyrant it meant a thousand words. A thousand words Rook would love to hear.
The void in him felt uncomfortable, Rook rocking his hips side to side as he lazily watched the last thick globules of seed drain down the inside of his thighs, heart still pounding in his ears as he huffed, patting X on the stomach as it let go of his body finally.
Rook climbed down slowly, taking it easy on his legs and arms. They felt stiff and weak but he still had a job to do. A bigger job now as he looked at his uniform and how cum soaked everything was.
“Just stay there, I’ll clean the tabl--” Rook didn’t finish his sentence, as soon as his boot touched the floor his entire weight swung out from under him, slipping in the enormous puddle and slapping his body to the ground, both arms cartwheeling before landing in the sticky mess.
Rook noticed the Tyrant had made a motion to grab him, but had frozen on the spot, remembering what Rook had ordered. Stay there. And so it did, watching the human slam dunk himself into the fil th streaked across the floor.
He didn’t say anything. Rook was angry at himself for not being more careful as he raised both hands, long thick stings of cum hanging from his fingers. It was white but... there was a slightly iridescent quality to it. Silvery almost in the certain light. But he had no time to admire the stuff, getting up with much difficulty and pulling off his uniform, trying to wrangle out the shreds and pull the gloves and boots off as fast as he could.
“I only have like... no time to fix this.” Rook admitted, fear and reason lurking in his mind as the adrenalin wore off. He had to get this mess cleaned, get it dressed again, get himself dressed again and then get out. Fast. If Fiver or anyone else came into the lab, wondering why Rook hadn’t checked in yet, they would surely have questions to ask. Guns to load. Bullets to shoot into the back of his skull...
Rook awaited the beep of the door but it never came. A good half an hour of frantic cleaning and zipping himself into a new uniform and still no one turned up looking for him.
“I don’t think anyone cares.” Rook said softly as he got back to the job he was supposed to be doing; affixing the belts back neatly across its chest. It was harder now because it kept trying to reach over and touch him. Another ten minutes sailed past and no one entered to retrieve him. Then twenty minutes, Rook taking the opportunity to clean the Tyrant down proper, ignoring the sticky grossness he felt under his own uniform to make sure the creature was comfortable.
Rook hesitated on that final strap again, but shrugged it off as he tightened it around its shaft and then zipped and buckled it up. Pleased with how handsomely dressed it was now. No sign that anything disgusting or sordid had happened in the lab at all. Rook had time to double check it even.
“Ok. Well- I'm going to... go.” Rook said awkwardly as he scanned over the lab one final time, shouldering the now empty silver case. X watched him, standing still as Rook lifted his hand and waved slightly. This was so awkward, just leaving it here, stood here all alone. After all that. But Rook had a job to do, looking over his shoulder one last time at it before checking himself out the lab.
“Rook?” Fiver was stood two doors down, looking up from his paper work as he marched over. Rook stiffened, like a deer caught in headlights, wondering if there was something about him that gave away what had happened.
“I forgot all about you.” Fiver snorted, looking at the empty case. “Go down to maintenance, you were supposed to leave hours ago.” Fiver crassly amused that he had kept Rook working overtime, no sympathy as he marched to the lab and opened it, finding nothing out of the ordinary as he went over to the Tyrant. Rook hesitated, bouncing up and down on his heels as he watched Fiver circle around, marking everything off on the paper.
“Rookie.” Fiver snapped, looking over the Tyrants right hand.
“Where's the wrist band??” He called out, angry. “You were—You had ONE job. Where--” He looked at the table, not seeing it there. “The band for the right wrist.”
“The... right... wrist.” Rook echoed, standing in the doorway confused.
“Yes the right wrist. Under the material, behind the glove.”
“Under the...” Rook felt his entire gut drop. His heart going ballistic in his chest.
“Where did you put it?” Fiver lifted the Tyrants left hand, expecting it there. “It’s not in the case.”
Rook turned, seeing the Tyrant staring directly at him.
It fucking knew.
And while its mouth stayed in a thin tight line, like usual... Its eyes peaked with an unmistakable amusement.
Rook however felt like he was going to drop down dead.
“... I didn’t see a wrist limiter sir. Perhaps the technicians upstairs misplaced it. I shall go get it at once--”
“I WAS the technician who set the limiters up, it was in the case when I gave it to you. What, did you drop it on the floor??” Fiver looked under the table and found it spotlessly clean. Hmm. Maybe cleaner than when he had left it even.
“These belts are worth more than your fucking education. Where have you dumped it???”
“... Sir, perhaps go check upstairs, or in a different lab, just a moment, I am sure I can find it.”
“Did you steal it?”
“No sir.” Rook raised his hands apologetically.
“Why do you want me to leave?”
“Did you break it?”
Rook clamped his mouth shut.
“I know where it is.”
Rook looked away, feeling his tongue dry in his mouth.
His ass sure felt wet though.
“... It’s on his uh--”
“You tie it on its ankle?” Fiver asked, looking down at X’s legs.
“I put it on his...”
Fiver stopped his irked motions, turning to look at Rook, the idea now coming to mind.
“It’s on his...”
“Where. Where did you... put its wrist limiter.”
“I strapped it to his dick. Sir.”
Fiver stood tall, breathing in deeply but saying nothing.
“... Can I please fix my mistake sir.”
“..... Mm.” Fiver said, wrinkling his lip up. “Y-You better get to it.” Fiver said, his voice stammering as he realised the issue. Knew he properly shouldn’t have left a brand-new member of staff alone with a very, very valuable weapon and all its equipment. Equipment the idiot had essentially used as fetish gear in his ignorance. Fiver cleared his throat, hurriedly leaving and closing the door behind him, leaving Rook alone with his overwhelming shame. Though, Fiver seemed more embarrassed and mortified than Rook did.
The tiny technician sighed loudly, one hand over his face before flicking his fingers in the air. “It’s for your wrist.” He confirmed.
Rook side eyed it, but it purposefully looked away from him. Not that it mattered, Rook now had all the time he wanted to properly address his ‘mistake’.
“Maybe I should just undress you and start from the beginning again?” Rook threatened with a purr, returning to his huge Tyrants side.
Chapter 4: Choices Made
Rook stood outside his house, looking at the keys in his hand, letting the metal rub on his bare skin before he took a deep breath and let himself in. He was still thinking about it. And he wouldn’t stop thinking about it all week.
During lonely dinners. His mind wandered, imagining what it was doing. What it was thinking. Did it remember him. Did it care.
At night his thoughts lingered in the silence, his hands bound round his covers as he remembered the smell, the taste of it all. And the feel, the completeness not afforded to him by anyone else.
Rook was small, insignificant. His partners were always used to full submission from him, and Rook had accepted that would always be his place. He worked out sure, but he was never going to be a cool, tall, strong guy. Not everyone is made to be mountains, and Rook had more in common with mice. But it didn’t stop him wishing that once, just once he would be able to call the shots. Be in control.
He craved the feeling, reaching for it every single time he took a shower. Rook had rarely jerked himself off before, that simply wasn’t his thing. If anything, he found it embarrassing to do it by himself, shame and self-deprecation killing any hope for a boner he wanted to play with. But now he had something in mind that punched his self-conscious thoughts and doubts through a fucking dry wall.
Sitting under the spray of the shower water above and letting it collect in the bathtub around him, Rook was able to dig into the memory of the Tyrant again and again and even three times on some nights. And it was apparent he was desperately trying to break into a fourth this, dark lonely evening.
“Do I feel good?” Rook panted into the silence, his mind miles away as he gripped down around his dick, thrusting very slowly and precisely. Imagining how much it must have enjoyed the sensations of his tiny body, how great and velvety soft his insides felt wrapped around it, getting off on that, not actually on what he was physically feeling. Rather the idea of being wanted and enjoyed so thoroughly. Having something at his mercy for once.
Rook slumped down into the collected water, breathing heavy in its warmth as he washed himself back down again, feeling better for it all and finally sated.
That was gross. Shouldn’t be wanking off thinking about a monster.
Well it was better than thinking about his ex-boyfriends. A lot of the reasoning behind Rooks self-esteem issues. None of them were violent or anything like that. They just hadn’t worked out. They liked Rook because he was small and cute body wise. Whenever Rook finally brought up the courage to ask people to stay over the night, it was never the romantic experience he so longed for... or ever a lengthy one. No; pinned down, one arm behind his back, being pecked into like a rooster without any real foreplay or actual comfort in it. One guy had even noted how long he had waited to finally fuck him. Not that it was the right time for both of them, but that it was something past due.
Rook stood up out of the water after spending way too long over thinking things, standing with his back to the shower as he watched the warm soapy bubbles and spray drain down his legs. Not like those nights before where he had to painfully huddle under the water as thin trails of blood coiled below. How was that even possible? That tyrant had a dick as big as his fucking arm and Rook was fine, a little sore, maybe, but nothing hurting like that. Like nearly all the other times he had shared with other people. Correc tion: with human people.
Rook didn’t have time to stand about under the nice spray and sulk, he had to go to work again. But his foul mood followed him. Before he had been happy, greatly happy to have had such an experience and to feel so fulfilled. Now, greed and jealously started to fester in his mind. He wanted more, more of that Tyrant. Wanted all of it, all the control. But also, that care, that nice... gentle display. How the enormous monster was so careful around him, was curious but tentative of things. Rook adored it, wanted it back so much, that feeling of security and tenderness and sweet gestures and affection and--
What the hell am I doing here. I got no business here.
Rook stood with his hand frozen over the keyboard, beside him two huge green test tubes were being chilled, waves of cool air drifting away like smoke as a young lab manager stood with her hands typing happily away next to him. This was nothing, this was boring. This wasn’t what Rook wanted. It paid better than working downstairs, but only marginally. And perhaps he could snag a higher position anyway? One with more authority. One with more control.
Rook made up his mind then and there, just throwing his equipment down and leaving to go scheme. The lady he worked with moving back as the tiny man left on a mission. Screw this lab, screw all the nice welcoming people who worked with him. He was going to go get he wanted. He had a huge brain, and he was going to use it for damn once.
-- -- --
“Fuck you want Bishop?” Fiver said, not looking at him as the older man stood hunched over a tall desk, several gross slabs of mutated flesh in glass containers beside him as he wrote.
Fiver turned about, looking down at Rook, scowling. “Oh yeah. You.” He said it as if Rook was made of festering meat. Rook didn’t hesitate. If it came down to it, he would physically wrestle this rude, pompous man to get what he wanted.
“My paper work, I want to transfer to be full supervisor of a T-series, specifically model 1337.” He shoved the files into Fivers hands. Rook had made up his mind and now knew an angle to play.
“You?” Fiver sneered, then looked down through the file, the glee in his expression dribbling away. “That’s- this model is the one you--”
“Yes. As such I know it intimately, thanks to your lack of supervision and all that.” Rook stabbed his words in, feeling confident without anything to lose. If Fiver said no, then he could just quit out of this heck hole. He didn’t need the money, he didn’t need for anything sole one specific, tall handsome thing.
Fiver pretended to re-read the paper work, avoiding the conclusion that he was at fault back then and that Rook had made a valid point. He hated when underlings did that, outsmart him. But he had to concede;
“Take it. And if it breaks your arm off because you were trying to fist it, well then, I will be the one hitting you with the wet end.” Fiver pulled the ID tag out his pocket, shoving it into Rooks hand as if it were a bad penny before pushing past, taking his gross biological samples with him along with that bad attitude.
Rook breathed out hard, amazed that his plan actually worked. Bouncing the tag in his palm, thrilled as he walked to the elevators and tried to push down his giddy feelings.
I did it. I’m going to see him.
Rook sighed warmly, eyelids lowering as he imagined being wrapped in those big arms again, being held so warmly, so eagerly. Fingers lost in wonderment about the softness of his skin, the turn of his jaw, the way his hips angled. Everything that no one else cared for, but the monster valued so dearly that one wonderful day.
That one day.
Rooks shoulders hitched as the elevator chimed, letting him out onto the correct floor. The corridor was barren , not a soul in sight, leaving Rook with his own dreaded thoughts. What if it was just a onetime thing? What if it didn’t remember him, or care about Rook in anyway? Maybe it couldn’t even comprehend what had happened between them, thought nothing of it, thought it was just a standard procedure, like everything else the little humans in lab gear did to it. Maybe... This was a mistake.
Chapter 5: Tiny Birds, Big Monsters
Rooks confidence sunk so deep in his chest he thought it would drop out behind him onto the smooth white flooring. Each step across it was as loud as thunder to Rooks ears as he apprehensively turned to the lab door. His lab door. Swiping his key card over the sensor and then entering with his hands clasped, nervously twiddling his thumbs.
This is stupid. This was all so fucking stupid. Why am I doing this? Why did I think this was a good idea?
He had only conceived it in a horny, love hungry mindset. His dreamed-up vision of what the Tyrant was, what all these hideous, violent, destructive monsters were. Based on a singular passing experience which, in itself, was fogged up by Rooks own loneliness and desperation. He had constructed a fantasy and now, faced with reality and the consequences, he faltered, feeling like he was going to cry at any moment.
No, he still had a job to do. Even if it didn’t know him, didn’t care and didn’t want to be around him at all. That’s fine. That’s what the job is supposed to be. Rook was trying to muster courage over his negative disposition as he typed in the numbers on the keypad, not needing to check the paper work. He had memorised them long ago.
The Tyrant stepped out same as before, naked and dripping with liquid as the tall tube started its self-cleaning procedure, oxygen rich water draining away and whirring softly in the background as Rook went to the silver case, opening it and pulling out the first of the black belts. His hands were shaking. It had made no change to its demeanour. Nor did it even looked down at him.
The tiny, terribly sad man kept his head down, silently organising the belts on the table. Taking his sweet time. Dreading having to go over and dress it up again. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. For days he had prayed for this moment over and over, to see the tall creature again. But now, with it standing mechanically behind him, stone cold, still, no emotion... Rook just wanted to curl up and die. This thing wasn’t made for love and affection, it was a weapon. Made for war and... Not made for Rook.
Rook blinked, his mind resorting to that extremely primal, basic thought process he rarely had the privilege to delve into.
What if it.
Was for Rook...
“Hey.” Rook said loudly from beside the Tyrant. It didn’t look at him.
“Hey. Do you remember me?” Rook asked. Staring up at it, his teeth gritted behind his lips.
X turned sharply, piercing eyes locked onto him but its expression, as always, was the same.
“It’s me.” Rook pulled the mask off his face, making sure it could see him. Making sure it knew exactly who he was. “It’s me.”
There was a harrowing moment of nothing. Neither one moved, staring at each other in the sterile room, filled with Rook’s apprehension and dread. He feelt it choke him as it welled up in his throat.
X took a deep breath then lunged down at him. Rook exhaled loudly, almost retching as he was grasped around the middle, painfully tight. He had barely seen the motion behind his tear-filled eyes. Gripped with two huge grey arms that threatened to snap him in half. Long, deep hums in its chest, vibrating against Rooks bones as he clung back around its neck, making a very inhuman sound as he was lifted up off his feet and was held there for what felt like an eternity. He was held till his arms ached and his spine tingled with stiffness. But Rook wouldn’t have it any other way. Neither needed to say a word to express themselves. It was comfortable. Here, in the silence of the room, regarding each other, as Rook ran his gloved fingers over the cold skin, remembering just how chilled it was again. How satisfyingly cool and firm. How it breathed in so deep and exhaled slowly and precisely, nothing like Rooks haggard breaths around his trembling jaw. The relief, the joy, the justification.
This wasn’t all in his head, it really did know. It wasn’t a stupid, soulless weapon. It was there. Right there with him. A week later, the two returned to the exact same place as before.
“Hey... Hey.” Rook spoke as softly as he could, bringing its attention back as it loosened its embrace and looked down into his face.
“Did you miss me?”
It had no expression, simply staring at him before letting its gaze trail away to the side, lids lowered. Just a touch of brows pulling together. It was so subtle, so tiny, but Rook recognised the grief in it instantly.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry, I should have tried to see you sooner. I was scared, I was worried. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d know. Or remember either. I just wasn’t sure. I didn’t think you’d care and I wasn’t thinking straight. But all I did was think about you though. Every single day. I missed you so much. I--” Large grey fingers pressed over his mouth, halting the verbal garbage that Rook was spewing in his emotional state. Rook didn’t need to talk and explain himself, neither of them needed to speak at all. Simple, gentle actions were all that mattered, displayed so effectively as the enormous creature’s hand moved slowly across Rook’s jaw and up the side of his cheek with the back of its fingers lightly rubbing the rosy flesh.
Rook melted under the touch, feeling embarrassment rush over him as he forced both hands up over his own face, trying to hide his gushy expression. The Tyrant leaned in, trying to look around his hands before prying them away, peeling back the tiny fingers ever so carefully. Rook couldn’t believe just how gentle it was being. How could something this big and scary looking be that delicate and precise?
“I’m not leaving again.” Rook started, wanting to explain what he had arranged however his train of thought was derailed.
It was licking him.
“St-Stop that.” Rook turned his head away, pushing the Tyrants face from the crook of his neck where it had been softly lapping, desperate for his attention and affections again. Focusing on the only spot of bare flesh it could reach, the rest hidden away under the uniform.
“I need to show you something” he insisted, keen to explain first. It deserved an explanation and reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving it alone again. Never again.