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It had easily been days since Tom’s been gone on his mission, his dimly glowing visor twitching as he sighed in frustration at the time on his watch.
Tor- The Red Leader had sent him and a few other rooks to scout out a new base spot, claiming he needed to expand his grasp on Britain further than he already had.
Prick, he pretty much controlled the entire area. His head bumped against the steel window of the moving jeep, a little whine escaping his lips as he rubbed the sore spot. Well that certainly stopped his train of thought…
The brunette couldn’t think of why the Red Leader would need yet another base for a country well supervised by his eyes, but he could not question the leader, unfortunately.
Tom groaned silently as he stared out the window, listening to the vibration of the car walls and cracked asphalt under rubber tires. They were on the way back to the headquarters, with news nothing short of fruitless.
He internally wanted to jump out of the jeep, knowing that sick bastard would surely punish everyone.
He cringed at the sudden memories of rookies being beaten and sometimes got fingers cut off for their mistakes, and he bit back a seethe, hands tightly gripping the fabric of his work pants. He began to weigh his options: Take the blame for it all or let the rookies see hell.
Now it was inevitable that they were going to see that side of the Red Leader, but he hoped that maybe he could postpone it for them a little while longer.
Tom’s shoulders tensed when the jeep hit a rock, shaking the car to one side, he had easily grabbed a handle to hold onto; his breath quickened slightly from the sudden burst of movement.
He took that moment to look out the window again, greeted with the gates of the headquarters he wished he had more time away from. Tom began to panic, it was either now or never he would make that choice within himself.
He suddenly backtracked, because he was just as anxious about the Red Leader and his punishments. How bad will he get it if he took all the blame to himself?
He was suddenly nudged by the driver, who told him to begin getting out and unloading the stuff they packed for their scouting mission. Tom mumbled an ‘okay’, but he caught a quick glimpse of the driver's face, something he was feeling form a deep pit into his own stomach; fear.
Tom looked away quickly, his teeth clamped against the inside of his cheek as he forced himself to grab everything with steady hands.
He sighed as he thought once more about the Red Leader, his mind teetering back and forth on what he should do. As soon as Tom had stepped out however, he wasn’t given much thinking time.
Standing face to face with the Red Leader, his eyes widened, frozen in place. He straightened up with strained discipline when Tord had grunted, jaw clenching as he attempted to look calm.
“Leader.”
“Thomas.” Tord deadpanned, the cigar between his middle and index idly burning had made its scent known to Tom—bitter. Just like the gaze Tord held onto Tom. The brunette gulped silently, hands still awkwardly holding supplies.
The Norsk clicked his tongue at a soldier, nodding his head at Tom’s hands. The items, which grounded Tom slightly better were taken, the man fumbling to fold his trembling hands behind his back.
“Follow me.” Tord sneered, eyes boring deep into Tom’s chest, sitting uncomfortably and quite painfully on top of the brunette's torso. His breath came harder to draw in as he followed anxiously behind Tord, his eyes darting back to the rookies who stood idly at the jeep looking very sorry for him.
Looks like the choice was made without negotiation. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked back in front, his eyes following the stiff movement of Tord’s shoulders as he stomped towards his office.
Tom internally seethed at the pace the horned man was going at, and it was clear he already knew the mission was a flunk. Tom’s fists stayed clenched at his sides, his jaw no softer.
His mind began to sink into a darkness of fear, eyes glued to the floor as he grimaced. A sudden snap of a door handle had woken Tom back up, gulping as he watched Tord quickly disappear through the doorframe and bark at Tom to step inside.
“Sit.” Tord scowled, rounding his desk with a swift motion and plopping down on his own chair. Tom stepped forward with practiced neutrality, legs nearly stiff as he took his seat across from the Red Leader.
He sat on his hands to stop himself from fidgeting as he watched Tord poke at him with his eyes. Everytime Tord stared at him, it was as if he were really trying to stare deep into his soul, to gouge even the slightest reaction to pick on.
It worked every time.
Tord’s eye narrowed as he began typing some things on his computer, focusing on the screen. Those few minutes felt like grueling hours, the tension building so thick it was practically choking the man.
Tom’s resolve broke down each second, and he felt every bit of it slipping away as his throat ached for him to say something, to maybe try and play his way into a somewhat safer situation.
He knew it’d be wise to stay quiet nonetheless, otherwise Tord would definitely be angrier. The horned man pushed the computer away slowly, his eyes dragging forward to meet the brunette's nervous gaze.
“Do you have any idea how important this new base would’ve been?” Tord asked, his hands folding onto the desk. Tom felt sweat roll down his cheek, clearing his throat—
“Speak up.” Tord hissed, snarling at the spiky haired man.
“N-no sir.” Tord’s eye darkened, and his frown deepened. Bad response.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Thomas,” a sharp exhale passed before Tord continued. “Do you have any idea how important this new base was?”
Tom couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say, he was so worried out of his mind that he would say the wrong thing. Of course this didn’t help, because Tord eventually snapped, he was tired of waiting.
The leader slammed his hands on the desk, shooting up and out of his chair to lean closer to the frightened man, his robotic hand fisting tightly into the collar of Tom’s shirt.
His eyes were wild, dimly lit with sparks of rage as he spoke through gritted teeth.
“That cost me a lot, y'know. The revolutionary army has been stalking up our asses and that location could’ve given us a CHANCE of getting them off our tails. And you and those failures went ahead and fucked it all up.”
Tom began to stutter an apology, but the glare that Tord sent him shot down his spine, following with a twinge of helplessness and another feeling that buried shamefully in his lower stomach.
Tom cursed at himself for his reaction, but ultimately couldn’t focus any longer on that when Tord had released his collar and slapped him hard.
The metal of his robotic hand had crashed violently against Tom’s cheekbone, his head whipping to the side with a crack and a seethe. His thighs pressed together, followed with a shameful shiver down his spine.
God, he was pathetic. He prayed that Tord didn’t see, but a small voice in the back of his head hoped he did. What on earth would Tord do to him if he knew…
“S-sir–“ He choked, a breathless sigh escaping his lips. “I know apologizing won’t do anything. S-so please,” he whispered, “please just punish me. It wasn’t their faults. I was the one that messed up.”
The brunette squeezed his eyes shut, too afraid to look at the reaction of his boss, yet he was met with a still silence that he wouldn’t have predicted. Slowly, carefully, his eyes fluttered open—met with a Leader whose lips were parted in an amused shock.
Those same lips curled into a sick smirk, a rumble from his throat forming into a deep snicker.
“Wow. Aren’t you eager?” Tom’s expression morphed into shock, then mortification as he tried to speak. He wasn’t going to deny it, but he would at least try to save his image first.
His body betrayed him however, mouth hung open, throat tightening and only allowing a small grunt to escape. He quickly shut his mouth, eyes searching for any hint of sarcasm in his leader's face.
Tord was far from it. He wasn’t going to admit how much those words his dear little soldier uttered had turned him on. He was much more of a physical teacher, anyways.
His eyes darkened with a sadistic hunger, his smirk widening slightly as he stalked around his desk. He gripped the top of the chair Tom was on, spinning it roughly to face him.
The chair groaned as it stumbled, Tom gripping the arms to stabilize himself from the sudden movement, and the pure shock from the smirk his boss gave him. Fuck, what did he just get himself into?
Tom frowned, a tingling shiver when Tord leaned down slowly, his hand suddenly pressed against his chest, sliding up in sync with the motion of his head. His hand stopped, gripping the taller's neck with a tight squeeze, his lips just inches from Tom’s ear.
“Wanna make it up to me, Thomas?” With the tone of his voice, Tom knew he wasn’t gonna have a choice to choose, anyways. Whatever it was, it has to be better than getting chopped up and beaten. Hopefully.
With a weary gulp, Tom nodded slowly, muttering an obedient ‘Yes sir’ a bit too close to Tord’s neck. His hand tightened around the brunettes at the breath ghosting his skin, a small shiver running down his spine.
“...Du ville sett så mye penere ut under meg.” Tord purred breathlessly, his accent thicker than usual. Tom couldn’t ignore how much hotter the area between his legs got at that, even if he barely understood him.
God, why didn’t he think of this before? Thomas, his soldier. His personal toy. The second name made the Leader's inner thighs twitch, simply not caring if Tom saw his intentions straining against his pants. He’s going to make sure Thomas knows very well what he’s to do when he fucks up.
“Kneel.” Tord cooed, his hand still gripping Tom’s neck. Tom fumbled a bit before his knees came in contact with the dull carpet below, a small thud sounding. His eyes stayed meekly fixated on the man’s knees, unable to bring himself to stare up at his Leader.
He didn’t want to be any wetter than he already was… But despite that, he already knew what was going through that head of his, and he couldn’t help but feel eager.
Tord suddenly grips Tom’s chin and yanks his face upward, earning a strained groan from the kneeling man. Tom couldn’t help his needy expression, and it was becoming increasingly clear that the man above him caught attention to it with the way his boot stomped down onto his crotch.
Tom lurched forward with a groan caught between pain and a moan, gritted teeth as his head fell against Tord’s idle knee. Tord laughed at that, small and delighted.
“Tell me, Thomas,” his boot pressed harder against the whimpering man’s crotch. “What exactly are you thinking right now?’
“I-...” The brunette’s eyes wandered to the side, lips parted. “I don’t know.”
“Oh you do know.” Tord chuckled, a hint of impatience in his voice.
“Let me ask you something else, then. How willing are you to… take this punishment for your colleagues?" He punctuated the word ‘punishment’, a small smirk as he watched Tom fail to read his expressions.
“As willing as I can be. Just please show them mercy, it was my fault.” His voice cracked at the end, and that only exposed him more. Tord caught onto this, he always did, letting out another mocking snicker.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Tord dragged, a small sigh as his boot wandered lower, now painfully pressed against Tom’s t-dick. “I’d think you were playing hero.” His boot twisted, and Tom couldn’t hold back the sharp seethe he let out at that, fists clenched against his pant thighs.
“But clearly, you just wanted me to yourself, hum?”
Tord grabbed Tom's face again, twisting his face to the side, examining his visor. His eyes glinted with a sudden light, and the man beneath him couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking of doing to him.
But fuck, not knowing made it so much more unpredictable, more exciting. Tom’s shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded as he waited patiently for his Leader.
Clearly Tord liked this submission in his soldiers eyes, given that he immediately took action. He dragged the man up with brute force and slammed him against his desk.
Tom’s legs hung idly, just barely against Tord’s waist, and he fought the urge to wrap his thighs around him. Tom let out a shaky exhale, lips parted as he watched his boss with hungry eyes, simplified by his visor.
Tord didn’t need words to see he wasn’t alone in this weird tension the two seemed to want more of. His hands trailed up to Tom’s visor, smiling as his nail caught onto a hidden dial, allowing the perplexed soldier to panic at the buzzing against his face.
Tord pressed his forearm against his soldier's neck, leaning down to lick the shell of his ear, “Stay still for me, kjære soldat.”
Tom could barely respond when a scorching hot sear spiked against his face, a yelp sounding out, legs instinctively clamping against his leader's torso—sure enough that same shock went straight down, his thighs trembling soon after.
Tord kept quiet as he switched the dial on again, a click sounding instead of the buzz. Tom let his guard down for a second in confusion, but was snapped into reality when his own visor electrocuted him.
Tom let out a low and raspy moan, his eyes rolling back as his brain went fuzzy and light. That open mouth was just begging for Tord to enjoy, so he wasted no time diving into Tom’s mouth, forearm now shifting so he could grip his soldier's neck once more.
Tom could only groan in response, weakly sliding his tongue against his leader’s. His hands desperately trembled, sliding up Tord’s back and pressing him closer with a needy whine.
Tord immediately pulled away with a small smile, allowing Tom to sober up from the shock. He reached over Tom after a few seconds of thought, grabbing a cigar and lighting it slowly while maintaining eye contact with the man under him.
The soldier could only breathe heavily, hands now awkwardly at his sides, thighs still loosely wrapped around Tord.
“Sir-”
“Strip for me, Thomas.”
“What?” Tom stuttered, eyes widening.
“Now.” He hissed, taking a long drag from his cigar as he backed away, stopping to sit down right in front of the man on his desk.
Tom’s ears burned as he sat up, now standing a few feet away from his boss. His hands stayed stubbornly at his sides, but quickly began undoing his shirt when the Norsk clicked his tongue at him.
He fumbled with his tie, throwing it to the floor, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it in the same spot. His hands slid down to his belt, unbuckling it and losing his pace from the humiliation burning hot in his chest and face.
He gulped as he finally got his belt off, now messing with his zipper.
“Stop.” Tom immediately stood straight, a small huff of relief as his eyes hovered awkwardly at the side of Tord’s face.
“Come here.” The brunette inched forward slowly, following the direction of Tord's finger until he was now kneeling in front of him.
“Take me out.” Tord huffed, dragging his cigar once more and blowing the smoke at Tom’s face.
The soldier coughed a bit but wasted no time as his hand slid forward, gripping the zipper of his work pants with his index and thumb—
“Use your mouth.”
Tom’s eyes flew between his leader's tented pants and face, gulping before he leaned closer, his canine catching onto the hole of the zipper with a small clink.
Tord’s eyes narrowed as he watched with amusement, chuckling quietly when his soldier was unable to keep his eye contact for longer than 2 seconds. When his fly was finally opened, he sighed as he watched Tom stare a bit confused at his crotch.
“Oh c’mon. You can’t be this dumb, Thomas.” Tom internally cringed at that, but he couldn’t argue. He bent forward once more, dragging his leader's boxers down, eyes fixated on his reaction. He couldn’t see much, now that Tord’s dick was in his face.
“You know what to do, bitch.” He sneered, nudging Tom’s cheek with the side of his thigh, his boot pressed against Tom’s crotch once more.
Tom groaned softly as his hips jerked against his boot, quickly following orders and dragging his tongue up the shaft. Tord’s smirk widened slightly, watching as his prized possession slid himself upwards until he took his tip in his mouth.
Tord cursed silently in norwegian the brunette couldn’t understand, but fuck, it still made him hornier. Tom’s tongue cupped the bottom of Tord’s shaft, lowering his head and setting a slow pace just halfway down.
The horned man bit his lip as he bucked into his soldier's eager mouth, using what was left of his cigar to press hard against Tom’s neck. The burn had caused Tom to whine, thighs clamping against Tord’s boot, teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh in his mouth.
Tord kicked upwards between the brunette's legs at the bite, sending a pain up Tom’s spine who only moaned at it.
“Hah, seriously,” Tord spoke up with a tone between disdain and excitement, “you are such a desperate whore. Moaning when I hit you.” he spat, his robotic hand now gripping the man's hair and tugging him roughly downwards onto his cock.
“Just shut up and hurry.” he scoffed, shoving Tom down to the hilt of his cock, only smiling when he began choking. Tom’s visor was still buzzing slightly from the own assault it took. He couldn’t really think at all, thoughts flying in and out as he choked on his Leader's cock, hips jerking desperately against the toe of his boot for his own release.
He moaned deeply, jaw aching as he chased his orgasm, grinding down hard on Tord who was beginning to make noise himself.
Tord finally came with a guttural noise, gritted teeth as his thighs squeezed his soldiers cheeks to keep him down. He had barely noticed Tom came himself, grinding against his boot like some stupid mutt.
He immediately sobered up from his high, smirking as he watched his dear soldier huff and groan as his hips came to an abrupt stop, panting.
“Get up. And bend yourself over my desk.” Tord ordered lazily, watching as Tom’s eyes widened under him but ultimately decided not to argue… God, Tord was so fucking lucky to have such an obedient soldier at his disposal like this.
His eyes narrowed as he watched, propping his head up with his hand as his eyes followed his soldier's hesitant advances. Tom stopped and carefully leaned down, pressing his chest against the desk.
His thighs trembled in embarrassment, heart rate only quickening the longer he had to wait for his leader to figure out what to do with a failure like him.
“Stop moving.” Tom obeyed as he was told, hands awkwardly folded under his chin. Tord got up, pressing his hips against Tom’s ass. A small gasp escaped the soldier, but he soon was met with nothing but blurs when Tord had slid off his visor.
Tom began to open his mouth, but Tord shushed him quickly, placing the visor to the side as he walked off, the sound of a drawer opening. He stayed obediently, mind wandering as he awaited with a nervousness that tightened in his chest with each sound coming from Tord’s direction.
He jumped slightly with each curse that flowed lowly from the Norsk’s mouth, relying on his hearing to figure out what he was doing.
Tom kept his legs still, yet his chest tremored slightly, fear layering on his back and pressing the air out of him. He eventually sucked in a quiet and sharp breath when Tord pressed a hand against his ass. Fuck, when did he…
Tord had hooked whatever he got onto his belt, hands both laying on the Brit’s hips before sliding down slow and precise, fingertips breaching the first layer of pesky fabric that held the leader from his stress relief.
He let Tom’s pants fall, quietly barking at him to kick them to the side, in which the soldier grunted and obliged.
He pushed out a heavy breath from his lungs, a low whistle he couldn’t hide as he finally dragged his fingers under the brunettes boxers. He clicked his tongue quietly in frustration, the Brit’s sweating legs clinging the boxers stubbornly onto his upper thighs.
He nudged the undergarments down in a more impatient manner, eyes widening softly as he stared down at his soldiers sopping wet cunt.
He shuddered, cock throbbing almost painfully at the sight. He wanted so badly just to rip his own pants off, fuck his soldier silly. Tord’s jaw clenched tightly as his hands absentmindedly followed his desires, one fumbling at his belt.
His hands stilled, breathing slowing down as he forced himself to regain his composure, hand moving from his belt to the whip he had clipped on a few minutes ago.
“You understand what you did, yes?” Tord questioned, hand gripping the handle of his toy whilst his robotic fingertips dragged almost admirably at the material.
Tom nodded quietly, only for a sudden yelp to burst out of his throat, a red stinging mark straight across his ass.
“Use your words.” Tord hissed with a heavy accent, landing an extra harsh blow against his hips. Tom’s mouth hung open in a silent cry, fists going white-knuckled as his fingernails dug into his palms. The dull aching and warm wetness that came from his hands went unnoticed as another lash came down. Another. And another.
Each crack was music to Tord’s ears, hips subconsciously twitching, eager to be pressed against his soldier's ass. But he yet again remained calm, canine catching his bottom lip, his eyes flaring with a sick and perverted satisfaction.
Tom’s legs were useless at this point, his upper body the only thing that kept him grounded on the desk. A traitorous tingle went through his spine, warm and buzzing, settling deep and hot in his lower stomach.
It wasn’t much better that he was leaking again at the horrible, hot pain of the welts forming against the supple flesh.
Tom had finally been able to catch his breath, only to seethe at the robotic fingers stroking each welt between two digits. The Brit bit down harshly on his bottom lip, swallowing down his whimpers and grunts.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tom strained, a small seethe escaping his throat when Tord pinched down on one of the welts.
“Sorry for what, Thomas?” His accent came out low and irritated, and it did nothing to help the wetness between his thighs let up.
“For messing up my duty-!” Tom yelped as another sharp swing of the whip came down on his ass, straight against his cunt.
“And?”
“Fuckk…” The brunette hissed, trying to search his clouded mind for the answer. He internally seethed with every second he wasted, already mentally preparing for the next time the whip came down.
“A-And for returning a day after the deadline.” He sputtered, praying that his leader would accept it.
“Hm.” Tord hummed, placing down the whip to the side. He grabbed Tom’s visor once more, keeping it in his robotic hand as his fleshed one came down to undo his belt, fingers stilling as much as possible to hide his own desperate tremble that racked his body.
The British man finally eased from hearing the sound of the whip finally being retired to the side, but he was sure that the leader wouldn’t stop there.
He never did. The initial shock wore off quickly, the welts hot and angry, bursted blood vessels making sure every nerve felt the assault.
Tom’s jaw clenched tightly, his hands shaking, still fisted up. He finally eased them however, small trails of blood and crescent indents where his nails had dug into.
He held back a sigh as he felt Tord run his hand up and down his back, purposefully pushing down on each stinging lash, making him groan and jolt with each digit stroking the bruised mounds.
Tom’s eyes widened as he felt his own wetness drip down his thigh, humiliation burning hot in his chest. God, what will his leader think? Getting turned on when he’s supposed to be scared, afraid to ever make the same mistake again.
But he just couldn’t help it, thighs quaking softly as Tord’s hand finally came down to his pussy, two fingers pressing against his slick entrance.
“Holy fuck, Thomas,” Tord exhaled, a breathless laugh curling around the Brit’s ear, a small huff following. “Du elsker når jeg sårer deg, hm? For en god, lydig soldat.”
Every word did exactly as it was meant to, comprehended or not. Tom couldn’t hold back the shiver that shook his body, an eager expression that he buried between his arms in a last attempt to salvage what dignity he had left.
Tord immediately slid his hand up the soldier's back, fisting tightly in the brunette's hair.
“You’re such a slut,” two fingers rammed into the soldier's cunt, a gasp escaping his lips.
“A bitch just eager to be put in his place, yeah?”
Tord’s tongue lolled out, pressing and tracing around the innards of the Brit’s ear. Tom only mustered up a moan in response, the corner of his mouth dripping with his own drool.
A seethe pressed through the taller's gritted teeth, his hips jerking suddenly against the leader’s fingers that curled in the right spots.
“You’re not even hiding it, Thomas.” Tord chuckled, lips dragging down the brunette’s ear to his neck, sucking and biting the tender flesh.
He curled and pressed his fingers hard against the lower of Tom’s walls, smirking at the reactions his dear soldier gave him.
“Si det. Si at du liker det når jeg legger hendene på deg, kjære.”
When the soldier grunted in a hazy confusion, the man rammed his fingers in once more, now pressing the visor against the curve of Tom’s back.
A sick smirk spread across his face as he watched the shock of the visor come crashing down on Tom, his cunt clenching tightly against his bosses fingers with a loud yelp.
“Hmmoh goddd…~” The soldier only replied in low moans and one worded answers, hips shamelessly moving at the speed of Tord’s fingers. Tom chased his high, lightheaded and blissed out as he mewled and whimpered with each thrust. Tord waited, patiently thrusting into his soldier's needy cunt as he flicked the small dial on Tom’s visor again.
He had originally installed this to remind Tom to not be unloyal, but he was much more amused and pleased with this new use. There was only so much patience he had, anyways.
He pulled his fingers out quickly when he noticed the quickened pace and rising moans from the Brit, a near bratty whine sounding out from the brunette under him.
Tom clenched his fists once more, biting his lip to force down any moans that almost escaped. He sighed heavily as he felt the hotness in his lower stomach fade, a low groan of frustration following.
But he wouldn’t dare speak out, not when he was utterly useless in a situation like this. Being helpless only turned him on, and he couldn’t help but like the humiliation that came with being found out for liking how horrible Tord treated him.
He has secretly always liked when Tord had focused all his anger on him. Getting shocked, burned, or beaten for mistakes he would sometimes do on purpose merely for his hands on his body.
Defiance and the adrenaline that coursed through his veins each time had him running back to his private quarters, desperately jerking against his hand like a stupid whore until he was whipped out of his damn mind.
He just couldn’t help it. That bone chilling glare, the snarl that he let out when people fucked up, heavy with his accent.
Or when he was just mad at the world, arms folded tightly behind his back in cracking professionalism that wore down with each complaint or failed mission his soldiers came back with.
Tom swore to hate Tord ever since he was forced in the army, but he could never deny the tight and tangled mess in his stomach when Tord acted like the dictator he strived to be.
He should fucking hate Tord, he should just go rouge and join the revolution and leave this sick bastard behind. But he was so utterly attached.
And he knew Tord was the same, letting him get away with so much that he wouldn’t dare let anyone else. Their own affection came in arguments heated enough to send a shiver down the whole base's backs, fighting until their throats were raw or fists were bloody.
Each humiliating show he put Tom through, each strike that shook him to his core, every single degrading comment broke Tom down.
It broke him, and each time the leader gave him praise, he would rebuild himself. A broken man mending himself just to wait eagerly for the demolitionist to break him down again.
He loved every second of it, always acting indifferent and nonchalant to everyone, yet he was so drunk off fear and his quickening heart rate whenever Tord had passed him by in the halls or barked orders at him. Always obeying, always following. A soldier aiming to please his leader no matter what.
Like the desperate bitch Tord wanted him to be.
Once Tom snapped out of his thoughts, he was on his stomach now, eyes widening at the switch of the position. He didn’t utter one complaint, his idle thighs now squeezing around his leader's legs.
“Oh good, you’ve stopped daydreaming,” Tord mumbled, voice sharp around the edges with annoyance as he pressed the tip of his cock against the taller's cunt. Tom feigned ignorance, yet moaned when he felt the tip of Tord’s cock slip seamlessly into his warmth.
Both men groaned at their connection, the redhead not bothering to talk as he thrusted deeper, eager to bury himself to the hilt.
“Fucking bitch,” Tord growled, fingers tightening against the brunettes hips as he slammed toward.
“Innse det allerede. Tell me how much you love being put in your place.” The leader purred, head falling forward with low grunts.
The redhead pounded as deep as he could, lewd sounds of their skin to skin only growing louder as the need to cum throbbed harshly in Tord’s head. Fuck being professional, he needed so badly to ease up his stress.
“Fuckkk~ God, I love it-“ Tom mumbled, not caring how loud he got when Tord pressed his head against the desk. The cold wood was moderately fogged up by his breathing now, his cheekbone throbbing in protest as Tord pressed him down harder, groaning as he quickened his pace.
The leader shifted to pressed his robotic hand firm against the small of Tom’s back, his hand darting out to grab a sharpened blade he kept tucked in his breast pocket.
He didn’t bother to warn Tom as he flicked it open, grinning as he slid the blade against the brunette's lower spine, watching as the blood pooled against his robotic hand.
The force of each thrust had the crimson liquid jerk and slide down Tom’s ass, mixing with their juices. Fuck, the Norsk could easily cum just by looking at the smeared red glaze against their secretions.
He didn’t stop at one slice, fully enjoying the sadistic glee he got each drag of his knife against soft flesh, the groans and whines of his tortured soldier only encouraging him.
His hips were beginning to tire at his fast pace, but he didn’t dare stop as his soldier jerked, driving the knife a bit deeper.
He let out a breathless chuckle when Tom shuddered under him, loud moans and screams building up with his orgasm spilling, clenching down harshly on the Norsk’s cock.
Tord bit his lip, huffing and groaning as he fucked Tom to his own orgasm, dropping the bloody knife to the side to gather the pooling blood with two fingers.
“Go on. Smak hvor jævlig skitten du er.” Tord spat, shoving the bloody digits in the Brit’s already hung open mouth, only grunting when his soldiers' canine scraped against his flesh. The Norsk’s vision began to blur at the edges, throwing his head back as he came straight into the British man.
“Fuckkk, what a good bitch.” Tord mewled, chest heaving. He slowly retracted, pulling his softening cock out as he watched the cuts on Tom’s back bead with cuts and blood. He only smirked when the soldier groaned in pain, whole body trembling as he struggled to move.
“Clean yourself up and get the hell out of my sight.” The leader hissed, cleaning his own self off as he tucked himself back into his pants.
The soldier obliged once more, cleaning, and re-dressing himself with protest from his tired and aching body.
He immediately left the leaders office after that, back throbbing and stinging horrible with each step he took, his clothes rubbing his wounds raw. His face stayed hardened, acting as if nothing had happened in that office.
Even if someone may have heard, even if his body screamed at him to go get medical attention, he kept his fast pace, straight back to his private quarters.