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Paddy was like a man possessed, with his jaw slackened and his Adam’s apple bobbing incessantly. His fingers were visibly trembling as they graced his belt buckle, even with his weight mostly braced against the limestone wall of whatever abandoned factory near where you and the rest of the men have holed up. The tension between you and Lt. Mayne was undeniable and had been ever since Bill hurled you at the SAS, supposedly to keep tabs on their behaviors and relay what their maneuvers were.
But right now, the task that you were assigned had to be strictly off-the-record. You squat down, all of your weight bearing on your ankles. As the relentless summer sun demanded every ounce of sweat you could muster, the white cotton tank top you had on practically melted into your flesh. Your nipples were more on show than you’d have been okay with usually. Paddy had certainly taken notice, eyes darting to your chest every other second. Speaking of seconds, you felt pressured to remind him of how limited the time both of you had was.
“How long before they get suspicious, you think?”
“I think they smartened up the second they saw their lieutenant dragging some low-level liaison to a secluded area. Might have been worth it to be a bit more subtle. Surely’d like to see them try ‘an make a fuss about it,”
Soon, his bottoms are off, as are his boxer briefs. They lay limp at his feet atop his boots. His own tank top is soaked in sheen and grime from the day. The dew that covers his skin is magnificent, adding a slick sheen to his rosy tan. The veins in his forearms and biceps bulge and soften with the slightest movements he makes.
“From what I’ve heard, ya aren’t the biggest fan of our rations,” Paddy says, “Perhaps this will better suit yer tastes.”
“You’re a clown,”
“Oh, I know, sweet pea,” he replies, “Now let us see that smart wee tongue of yers.”
You obediently drop your jaw open, eyes never leaving the Lieutenant’s. Hands planted on top of your thighs, you lean in while his hands find purchase in the roots at your scalp. He coaxes you the rest of the way until your lips graze the velveteen pink head of his cock. You intentionally play dumb, batting your eyelashes as you dodge taking his full length into your mouth.
“That’s how you wan’ to go ‘bout this? Are you sure?” Paddy glares.
This brings a dry chuckle out of you and in turn, you finally cheekily offer him the wet, smooth flat of your tongue. Paddy’s expression doesn’t shift as he slaps the heavy length on it repeatedly. You are gifted the dabbings of his pre-cum, only getting the faintest taste of the bitter saltiness. His hips jut his dick forward along your tongue while he maneuvers your head until it’s fully in front of your mouth. Eagerly, you seal your lips around the tip, massaging the underside. Paddy whips his head back at the sensation, his grip on your scalp tightening and creating the most delicious taut burn. You suck on it with airy pops that come from the hollowing of your cheeks, kissing it each time. You see Paddy swallow down all of the sensations he’s feeling at the end of his dick, stuffing them deep inside, along with everything else the war’s given and taken from him. In an instant, he regains control with a huff.
“Nah, nah. That won’ do,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head.
Before you even have the chance to pull off and give your jaw a break, Paddy is plunging his throbbing cock into the back of your throat. The imminent prodding at your uvula taunts your gag reflex, but you work to maintain your composure, deeply inhaling and exhaling his hot musk in the process. It prompts rivets of saliva to drip from your chin, landing in a small puddle on the ground beneath you. You whimper as his dick works up a frothy mess in the far reaches of your mouth. You swallow down the excess that you can while the rest gathers at your feet.
“Think I’m a bleedin’ eejit, is tha’ it?” Paddy grunts, “Like I’d believe for a second that this is the best ye can do. Ye gonna prove me wrong, are ye? Yeah? Start by tryin’. Start by fuckin’ tryin’ an’ doin’ better, ‘stead o’ whatever the fuck this is.”
His harsh words make your eyes roll back in your skull as you continue to laave the smooth thickness, slurping obscenely around it. Paddy swiftly pulls his cock from your mouth, shaking his head with a mock disappointment. He gives it heaving strokes—up and down, up and down—right in front of your fucking eyes. It’s mesmerizing, and you can’t help but watch in awe.
“Aye, just ‘cus I’m givin’ ye a hand doesn’t mean ye can’t do yer job,”
His other hand re-enters your line of sight, and he grips his dick from the base, pulling his sack upwards. His balls look full and weighty, and your eyes flutter at the sight of them. “Yeah, suck on ‘em while I fuck my fuckin’ fist. Ye know what to do,” he grunts.
The soft, sensitive skin feels like velvet over your tongue as you devote attention to each teste, coating them in wet kisses and breathy sucks that make his cock twitch upwards in his hand. Paddy lazily rolls them around your slippery lips, over your nose, and along your cheeks. It’s as if he wants to mark his territory, smothering you in his scent. When your tongue ghosts over his taint, Paddy throws himself against the limestone wall, arching his back dramatically. When he does so, his hips tilt upwards, allowing you to duck your mouth underneath him swiftly. You circle your tongue around his hole, and he shudders through gritted teeth at the sensation. That hand presses down on the crown of your head firmly, spurring you to keep lapping at him. His balls rest neatly over the bridge of your nose, partially obscuring your view when you look up at him. Even then, the small glimpse of him you get is a wound-up Paddy with his fangs bared, mouthing ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ over and over again. He loses track of what he was doing for a second and then restarts his mechanical method of jerking himself off.
Your jaw practically unhinges as if you were a boa trying to gobble up your prey. Your mouth becomes an all-encompassing orifice solely for pleasure. You drag your tongue and open mouth up to where his cock and his balls meet down to his asshole repeatedly. Your lips are on the verge of going numb, the slick repetitive friction causing them to swell all rosy and nice. At some point, he just starts grinding against your chin, now that your mouth has found his apparent weak spot. The vast array of flavors that ghost over your taste buds causes the saliva that’s been building up beneath your tongue to sneak out of the corner of your mouth. Paddy’s other hand, the one not tangled in your hair, runs along the edge of your jaw, thumb pausing at the corner of your lips to swipe up the excess drool.
“Messy thing, ye are,” Paddy coos, “Aren’t ye, sweetheart?”
“Uh-huh,” you moan out, desperately.
Your jaw is on the verge of cramping.
“An’ they sent you all the way out here to clean up our messes, that right?”
“Uh-huh,”
“Mmm. In that case, here’s another mess, courtesy of the SA-fucken-S, lovey,”
With a rough yank of your hair, he pulls you back so he’s jerking off in front of your face once again. But this time, it’s much quicker and more desperate. His face is flushed with red, and the most noise he can muster is brassy little grunts. And then he spills his load hot and thick all over your sweaty face. Some of it falls right on the edge of your lower lip, and a little catches on your left eyebrow, causing you to squint. You cheekily swipe your tongue out to lick up the cum on your lip and then motion to use your fingers to collect the rest.
“Oh, no, ye don’t. Don’t even fucken bother. I’ve got ye covered, sweetheart,” Paddy taunts, taking the softening end of his cock into his grasp.
He guides the length over your cheeks and forehead, smearing his mess all over and rendering your small attempt at getting cleaned up rather futile. Teeming with annoyance, you beam back up at him, but it only brings out that maniacal Cheshire grin of his. The two of you don’t speak until you’ve actually made yourselves decent and return to the camp. Even then, you’re fairly certain you hear him as he fixes himself up in the far side of the room mutter something to the effect of, “If only Bill could see his wee precious liaison now.”