Chapter Text
Everything spun out of control once Graves' Shadows showed up to rescue him. He had been MIA for nearly 24 hours, captured by Makarov's brutal right-hand man, Andrei Nolan. The intention was mostly to let the Shadow Company know that they were no longer at the top of the food chain and that Makarov knew who the leader was and how to get to him.
Nolan had his dark heart set on violently interrogating the undeniably handsome pretty boy pulling all the strings and causing issues for Makarov. A problem for Makarov was an even larger issue to Nolan, who worshipped the ground that Makarov walked upon, but all in secret. The Konni forces managed to get the small team of Shadows to retreat for the time being, until they could plan a better strategy. Nolan was hard and angry-looking at all times around Makarov, keeping the steel facade up perfectly. He felt such powerful urges to just grab Makarov by the hips and bend him over his desk.
He wanted to dominate his commander, caress the rigid cloth of his glorious, signature power suit and then wrench it off of him. Removing the suit would be stripping him of all his power, and with his armor gone, he could gain access to the firm, creamy, porcelain flesh beneath. Like cracking an oyster open and then devouring the slippery, savory insides. He wanted to shove his tongue up Makarov's ass, humiliate and tantalize him simultaneously. Nolan loved when Makarov spoke to him in that hushed, breathy voice, always locking eyes with him to assert dominance, but Nolan simply played along. He pretended to let the alpha control him, as a fiery storm of violent need and desire stirred more and more with each passing week. He planned on surprise-attacking him, he knew his boss would never suspect it. He was no stranger to betrayal and defiance, he always dealt with it swiftly and in the harshest way possible, but Nolan wasn't afraid, not enough that is.
It would be worth the torture and execution to force Makarov into the throws of desperate passion, begging, gasping for air as Nolan squeezed the life out of him with a hand around his neck, and the seed from his cock as he milked him irresistibly. He would savor it all... relish in his supreme victory as his delicious captive squirmed and laughed without breath, almost in a state of muted lunacy as his mind shattered. He couldn't take another order in that condescending tone, he executed every demand according to Makarov's outlandish, often nearly unattainable goals. He would get a nice pat on the shoulder, but this time, he got a good, firm squeeze and a lingering, unreadable look from his boss. It was good, he would think back on it as he quickly and efficiently brought himself to climax in the shower. Makarov tasked him with something very menial that day. Instead of torturing Graves, he wanted Nolan to bring his suit to the dry-cleaners. At first, the order irked him greatly. Was it meant to insult him or was he genuinely trying to give Nolan a break?
"Пожалуйста, отнеси мой костюм в чистку, брат мой." (please take my suit in to be cleaned, my brother) Makarov asked him the day before. The 'brother' part felt odd to Nolan until he realized it was the absolute highest title he could hold with a man like Makarov. Makarov had no siblings, no family, no real friends other than Yuri, who ended up betraying him in the end. He just didn't want to think of Makarov as a brother as he would thrust into him.
He put on a casual, black suit and dress shirt with leather dress shoes, then headed to Makarov's quarters to pick up the suit to be cleaned. He had only ever been in Makarov's bedroom one other time and it was when they suspected that a bomb had been placed in there. Makarov wasn't in there much anyway, he slept 5 hours a night on the bed and that was all the free time he had to luxuriate. The moment Nolan entered the room and shut the door, he smelled him. Not just the delightful, refreshing pine and citrus, no, it was mostly Makarov's personal scent. Unique and masculine...but Nolan picked up on hints of something sweet and spicy too. He felt like a deviant as he went over to the bed, leaned down and pressed his nose into the soft, cold pillow. He smelled his hair...his scalp. Nolan got greedy as he grabbed the pillow roughly in both gloved hands and smothered himself in it. He pulled away gasping for air for a few moments before putting the pillow back into place so deftly. He carefully picked up the suit and admired it. It was nothing much without it's owner, just as Nolan saw himself in relation to his master and commander; Makarov.
He took his gloves off and fondled the rigid cloth between his finger tips. He was never allowed to touch Makarov, but now it nearly felt as if he was breaking the rules. The suit was so clean and tidy, even having been worn a few times. Nolan gripped it tightly in his massive hands, wrinkling and scrunching it up in his palms. Makarov's scent was so strongly present on his beloved suit and Nolan pressed the inside of the collar to his lips and nose, inhaling deeply with his gorgeous, sky-blue eyes shut. The lingering cinnamon-sweet, spicy clove, minty-pine aroma overtook Nolan. He wanted it on his own skin...all over him so that it would never dissipate. He opened his blazer and then unbuttoned his black shirt, exposing his bulky, muscular chest and abs. He laid down on the bed and placed the suit on top of his bare flesh and held it close. He planted gentle kisses along the collar and then became a bit frantic as he manhandled the fine apparel. He grabbed a handful of material and rubbed it against his clothed erection, growling deep in his throat until a soft moan escaped his scarred lips. He needed more, so he undid his leather belt and opened his pants up enough to pull his cock out. He was going to take the suit to the dry cleaners right after he was done so it didn't matter much. This suit was a huge part of Makarov...a second skin and Nolan laid on top of it, rubbing up against it, then wrapped a portion of it around his throbbing dick and slid his covered palm up and down his enormous shaft.
Blindly, he reached for the pillow and buried his face in it, biting it hard as he got closer to peaking.
"Fffucck... you taste so sweet..." He whispered into the pillow. "Tell me I'm good...please. Say you are impressed with me." He mumbled in a state of complete sensual bliss.
He stroked himself much harder and the rough material started to hurt his smooth cock. He whined but continued, "Beg me, Sir..." He took himself out of the trance when he heard the word 'Sir'. No, Makarov wasn't a 'Sir' right now. He was his beloved plaything now, every part of him belong to Nolan at this moment, even the seed he would soon be spilling as Nolan took him.
Nolan rolled onto his back and shoved the crotch of the suit into his mouth as he jerked himself off in a feverish state of passion. He did not realize that Makarov had secretly installed a camera right in his bedroom. He would have never imagined Makarov giving up all his privacy like that. The camera sent a feed to Makarov's phone and he watched in a state of shock as he saw and heard Nolan make love to his suit. He didn't put a stop to it...he just watched him, and for the first time, Makarov felt afraid of a man. The fact that he could hide this feral emotions so well was what terrified Makarov, what would Nolan do to him if given a chance. Makarov was not interested in sex. He had one girlfriend as a teenager and barely even remembered her name, he felt his calling was the mission he put himself on. The man he called brother wanted to fuck him senseless in his own safe haven. He needed Nolan to accomplish his vision though, there was nothing he could say or do about this discovery. Nolan was the best thing to ever happen to him and he wanted to just forget about what he saw.
Nolan trembled violently and panted as his large cock spurted with plenty of hot seed. He was careful to release just on the white dress shirt and then once his impressive, chiseled chest stopped heaving, he stood up and wiped the seed off with some tissues. Makarov was impressed by how well Nolan cleaned everything up and sorted himself out. The suit was a mute victim and once it was cleaned, there was no story to tell, no traces of debauchery. No stain. Makarov wore the suit as he tried to move on from what he witnessed the day before.
"Андрей, ты прекрасно справился с последней миссией." (Andrei, you did a great good job on your last mission) He patted him on the shoulder and then squeezed his bicep as if testing the yield of his flesh, then shocked Nolan as he patted him on the chest and looked him up and down, as if admiring him in his casual suit; he was wearing his dark grey one this time. "You never cease to ...amaze me." He smiled, showing his dimples off as his dark eyes sparkled under his dramatic brows.
Nolan knew then that Makarov witnessed what went on in his room. He saw his desperation, his hunger and need for him, he saw him violently masturbate, feral and raw then writhe in ecstasy... yet here he was, calm and accepting as ever, perhaps more accepting and warm than ever. Was he simply giving him a free pass this one time? Or did he think of Nolan as something of an animal to be excused of deviant behavior due to it's aggressive nature? Nolan was not concerned, he would do it again if given the chance, but he wanted the real thing. Makarov made him think and do such crazy things. Then it happened; Makarov sent for him as he retired to his quarters for the night.