Work Text:
Water, water, he needs water. Wait. No. I need water.
The Militaires Sans Frontières’ medical base was jam-packed, it wasn’t all that unusual, but still overwhelming. After all, you were just a simple student assistant to the main medical personnel. Invited to the unit to study under them, and hopefully join the ranks as a military doctor one day. Nineteen, new to this world, and not even tanned from the Caribbean sun. Dr. Bennett didn’t give breaks, couldn’t exactly afford to allow it. Soldiers returned to Mother Base by the dozen, bloody and wounded. That morning, you had to help him remove a man’s leg. Then in the next moment, another soldier’s burn wounds reeked of infection.
You were rushing around the room, the stench of death and blood and antiseptics making you lightheaded. On one occasion, the sight of someone’s sprawled out intestines made a green sickness come to your face. “Did you expect this to be easy? This kinda life just ain't that, kid.” Dr. Bennett instilled, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. Your calves ached while pouring water down a man’s throat, he looked younger than you. Not by much, just a year, maybe two. He swallowed a few pills with the liquid’s assistance. Hadn’t he hoped to go to college, get a degree? Maybe become a mechanic in whatever decaying town he had been rescued from. You were one of the rare ones to not have been saved from a war torn nation. Rather, just from a small town on the East Coast that offered very little prospects.
Okay. He got his water, now you needed it too. If not, you’d likely faint. You pulled your pair of sheer plastic gloves off with a snap and tossed them in the trash. Your pair of black flats clicked against the muddy tile floor, moving toward a nearby sink. People around you are coughing, screaming in pain. It was all so much. Grab a cup, turn the sink faucet, it didn’t matter if it was hot or cold at this point. You tilted your head back and exhaled as the soothing liquid went down your throat. Refill the cup. Someone cries out in agony. Maybe another amputation, maybe they charred the handle of their knife into their thigh. Drink more liquid.
You sat the small cup down next to the marble countertop and wiped the sides of your mouth. These days, you don't even have time to put a bit of makeup on. No lipstick to smudge on a white coat sleeve, no mascara to run down your face in the humid heat. Then, Dr. Bennett walked around the corner and knocked on a pillar to get your attention. You quickly look over your shoulder at him, expecting an annoyed expression, maybe a quick scolding that she needed to get back to work. No, just a calm little smile.
“The Boss wants to see ‘ya. No worries, I’ll finish up here.” You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, particularly because your mind was too focused on the beginning statement. The Boss wanted to see… her? An otherwise irrelevant college student who just so happened to get lucky enough to be whisked away. A nervous smile grew on your face, nodding to the Dr. Anxiety was already twisting in your stomach at the prospects of it. Maybe he’d offer her an actual job, so as not to be written off as just some assistant. Or, well, he could also fire you. That was a horrifying possibility. Send you back to your little town in the States, to that middle class family.
Whatever it was, you had to stop standing there like a fool and get to him first. You stutter out a simple ‘okay’, then speed walk out of the room.
Everyone talked about the legend of Big Boss. Well, duh, this was his team of soldiers, they worked for him and gave their lives to pursue not only his dream, but the Boss’ before him too. And so did you, it was the main reason for coming here. He inspired your work in the base’s hospital, despite never even seeing the man face to face. That is, until now.
You knock on the door to his office, nervously fidgeting, unsure of where to put your arms. Firstly to the side, no, that’s boxy, then clasped at the waistline. No… too… professional. Or you should be professional? A nervous huff escapes you and what feels like an eternity passes before any sound comes from inside. A simple, careless, “Come.” His voice is deep, but lacks any general emotion. You bring your hand forward and twist the doorknob slowly, stepping into the room. Your eyes are wide, gnawing at the bottom corner of your lip. The office looks decently simple, but not without decoration. Picture frames of a past life. He’s even smiling in some of them, but from the corner of your eyes you can tell there’s no room for amusement on his face. Around twenty five years had passed from when they were taken, you figured.
“Don’t be shy, you can get closer.” He got up from his chair, offering a clear shot of his stature. Tall, probably six foot, brawny. You caught a breath in your throat, unsure of what to say. You just did what he said, stepping closer to him to bridge the gap between the two of you. A scarlet blush cursed your cheeks, peering down to try to conceal it. The vast majority of the world saw Big Boss as some sort of deity, betraying him meant death. It was… definitely a big deal to be here, standing right before him. Who wouldn’t get a bit flustered?
He must’ve noticed. But he didn’t smile, no, just curved a dark brown eyebrow up a tad. Big Boss was used to this kind of behavior, especially from the female staff. Even the men had a deep respect for him, hoped they’d be made his next right-hand man. He brought a hand up and rested it on your shoulder, but it didn’t seem either romantic or out of the kindness of his heart. He no longer had room for it, not in this field of work. Would the same apply to you one day? “I hear the medics are swamped. You haven’t been here very long, yeah? What do you think so far?”
Your lips twisted around, trying to conjure up some positive words for him. If this went badly, you could probably kiss the job goodbye, your whole future.
“Swamped is an understatement.” You try to put on a tone of amusement, but your heart is pounding and so is your head. Made particularly worse when he gave no expression that matched your tone. “But, it’s nothing the doctor and us assistants can’t handle. Still, if I may, we are running kinda low on bandages.” You admit, your eyes flickering up and down—blatantly scared to hold eye contact for too long.
Big Boss nodded, but it was hard to tell if he truly cared or took note of your words. Instead, he studied you for a silent while and finally remarked. “You’re a pretty thing, you know that?”
“Oh.. thank you.” You stutter out, surprised by his compliment, despite the oddity of it. “And, really, thank you for helping make this possible for me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d ever… well, do anything worthwhile in this field of work.” Another pause, another spell of embarrassment growing in your face. He narrows his eyes for a moment, as if trying to read you. “I really like it here, despite how stressful being a physician’s assistant can be.”
He stared at you through his remaining blue eye, a stern look reflecting off it. “Prove it, then.” He gently rubbed the padding of his thumb over your shoulder. “Prove that you like it here at Mother Base and get on your knees.” It was so sudden you couldn’t register it at first. He brushed his hand down your arm, but you were frozen in shock. Did you hear him right? No, surely not. But his finger circled around a mole, letting the statement linger. Let it taint the air, become reality. You seemed to lose control of your own mind, your knees giving way, lowering to the ground. You grip at his waist, then leg, only to support yourself on the way down. He doesn’t seem to mind, just looking down and breathing calmly. Eventually you hit the hardcore floor, a pain you’d likely notice if your nerves weren’t spiking so high.
Despite the thumping of your heart, the sudden wetness pooling in your panties, you’ve never done what he’s asking for. You nervously look up at him from the ground, but he doesn’t even smile back or give much of a facial expression at all. Instead, he combs his hand through your dirty blonde hair, drags his fingers along your jawline. Then he stops, moving to your lip, pulling at the cupid’s bow before pushing a thick finger into your mouth. You open up a bit to allow him to, twitching with excited anxiety. The leather of his gloves rubs over your front two teeth, tasting of sweat, then he goes further back, feeling the ridges of each tooth. Your eyes flicker up at him and then to his hand.
You don’t know what to do. One misstep could upset him, regret tasking you with this job. You inhale deeply and without being asked, close your mouth around his finger. A smirk sprawls over his face in response, likes your hesitation, but he pulls it away from you. The salty taste of skin remains on your tongue, and a part of you yearns for more. Big Boss goes back to combing his hand through your hair, a bit more forceful this time. “Sorry.” You murmur out nervously, to which he offers no reply.
Instead, he pushes your cheek into his crotch area. Underneath the thick fabric of his sneaking suit was a warmth that rises and fades in waves, which would’ve been comforting if not for the pre-existing humidity in the Caribbean. You’re breathing heavily now, feeling a throbbing hardness form under his clothes. As if to steady yourself, you grip at his thigh, only muscle and not much else—only making his boner more prominent.
Finally, you sputter out, “I don’t know what to do.” Your mouth dries up, gripping his legs tighter, your own are shaking against the floor. The Boss pauses, a fistful of your hair in his hands, and he finally takes on a softer expression. As if he could see through his perversions and realized this would absolutely ruin you. Rather… only served to excite him further. “You’re a virgin?”
“Yes.” You reply fast, but your fluttering stomach and the ache between your thighs sort of hopes that won’t turn him away. He pries your hands off his thighs and pulls you back up to your feet. Your legs wobble like jello, forgetting the strain put on them in the hospital. You grab onto his arm to steady yourself, but let go when you notice his eye on you again. It's another harsh look, but you can’t tell if it’s based on shame or desire, maybe a sick combination of the two.
“Do you want to leave?” He proposes, and every neuron in your brain wants to say, yes, definitely yes. That’d be the smart thing to do, and afterwards you’d go back to Dr. Bennett and the unfortunate soldiers dying in the hospital. Pack up your things there and go back home to America. But, just like him, a cocktail of desire and shame was mixing inside you, pouring down your throat and pooling below you.
“I don’t, I’m just… nervous.” You admit, wringing your hands together in front of him. He nods, pulling you even closer to him. “I won’t hurt you.” He says into the top of your head, inhaling the smell of shampoo, that husky voice sounds sort of soothing. Big Boss takes your hands into his and rests them on his shoulders, lowering himself in a similar fashion as you had earlier. His hands run over every curve of your body until he reaches the floor. With your height difference, he’s still not much shorter than a standing you. “Can this come off easily?” He asks, rubbing the fabric of your pencil skirt, the other hand exploring the smooth skin of your leg.
You’re breathing heavily from his touch, barely able to concentrate on his words, you know what he’s about to do. “No need.” You half-whisper, moving your hands from his shoulders. After grabbing the hem of your skirt, you wiggle side to side until the fabric is folded up to your hips. Now you were standing before the Boss himself in your underwear, made even more embarrassing by the obscene wet stain at the front. He, unsurprisingly, said nothing, was too entranced by the color of them and the dainty lace that lined around your thighs. You started to shake a bit all of a sudden, making your way to take them off.
He grabs your hands and forces them back onto his shoulders. “Let me get them.” You nibble at your lip, trying to hide your fear, but there was no use. He knew, probably recognized the gravity of it more than you realized. The Boss latched onto the sides of the lacy undergarment, slowly pulling them down until they were loose enough to drop. They fell into a pile on the ground, some of the fabric resting on the tip of your black flats. “Alright.” He says, gazing up to admire what he had just uncovered. One of his hands reaches up and cups around the labia, you respond with a brief flinch. Then he stops and runs the same hand over your waistline, still partially covered by a blue button up shirt.
“Here, let’s do… this.” Big Boss adjusted himself, gripping your left leg and laying it over his shoulder, offering a clear view of your cunt. You tried your best to keep your balance, made even harder when he finally leaned forward and brought his warm mouth over your clit. You yelped out a ragged shrill, shocked by the sensation, nothing you’ve ever known before until now. Until he gave it to you. Your hands rushed to find the sides of his skull, mouth hanging slightly agape. A steady stream of moans hung through the air, accompanied by the sound of your wetness being lapped up by his tongue.
Then he trailed back up to the top of your genitalia, the bridge of his nose rubbing against the pubic bone, taking your clit back into his mouth. You whimpered again, nervous to lose your balance when the tip of his tongue swirled around the particularly sensitive spot. Without even realizing, you started grinding against his mouth. Tingles shot up into your stomach and your nails dug into his hair harder. Your brain was desperately seeking complete pleasure, a hope that was squashed when he stopped, leaning away. He grinned at your frustrated sighs, “Don’t worry, I’ll finish the job in a bit.”
That frustration started to twist into earlier nerves when he started pulling the glove off of his right hand. He tossed it off to the side, your eyes following each motion, fluttering as it landed on the floor. Before you got the chance to look back down at him, you could feel as two fingers spread you open, sliding in easily with the help of the secretion that had pooled inside you. If there was one thing about the Boss, it was that he liked the control he had over you at this moment. There wasn’t any intimacy to it, instead purely driven by his disgruntled lust. Everything about it. The way he slowly slid his fingers slowly up into you, it wasn’t your enjoyment that got him off, it was the fact you let him do it at all.
Still, the built-up pleasure in your stomach started expanding again. When he curled in those two fingers still inside you, you couldn’t help but moan again. It expanded the vaginal canal more than you thought was possible, and the sensation was cruel but insatiable. He paused, switching back to a slow finger fucking. It felt like he was trying to bring you back to square one, but then he’d curl them again, and the sensation would come rushing back.
Eventually, the Boss attempted to slip a third finger inside. You could hear his frustrated breaths, a strange sensation at the base of your entrance. That was a bit too much for the first time, it hurt, almost seemed impossible. He likely sensed your squeamishness, and his prior experiences probably told him that too. Instead of continuously trying at your expense, he went back to pumping the two that could fit in and out. “Do you like that?” He asked.
A breathless mhm was your best reply, followed by another round of sharp whines. The combination of both fingering and his tongue was going to send you over the edge, just a bit longer, please, you begged internally. Your hands rested back on his scalp, fingers woven between strands of hair, grip strengthening as you got closer and closer. He let go and looked up at you. “Are you going to be a good girl for me here at Mother Base?” You look down at him, face screwed up and ready to cum. You didn’t know what that entailed, but in the moment, whatever he wanted seemed right. “Y-Yes…”
Suddenly, his fingers pushed into you as deep as they went, a pained moan coming out in response. “Yes what?” A harsh look met yours, and he spread them out within you, causing another wave of searing pain. He was a liar, he said he wouldn’t hurt you, yet the betrayal didn’t exactly surprise you.
“Yes, Boss.” You correct yourself, biting at your lip.
“Good.” Another smirk grew on his lips, and he caught your clit back into his mouth to finish you off. The noise of his mouth around it was deviant, the vibrations making your legs shake—made worse by the exhaustion from earlier. Rather than let you back up from him or fall over, Big Boss gripped your thighs, making sure you couldn’t escape as he finally pushed you past your limit. A shock ran through every limb in your body in one big rush, a gush of liquid coating the fingers he kept inside you the entire time. You couldn’t catch your breath, chest rising and falling. The sweat from his scalp soaked into your fingertips
He didn’t wait much longer before removing himself from you, afterward licking the slipperiness off of his fingers. The wobbling in your legs continued and the moment he lifted your leg from his shoulder, you fell into him. If he was any good man at all, he’d be gentle, not let your attachment fester. Please, please, let that be how this goes. He responded by wrapping his arms around you, cupping a hand on the back of your head. A few tears sprung from your eyes—after something so animalistic, that had to be natural. The two of you knelt there with one another, not saying a single word. His nerves calmed quickly, unlike yours, but he attempted to soothe them by tucking some hair behind your ear.
Let this be the end of it. It’ll just kill you if it continues. Big Boss has no problem taking everything from someone—that’s just what he does.