“Don’t cover your face. I want to see you.”
The command is spoken with a certain bark; sharp and nearly aggressive as the Soldier tightens his grip around Reaper’s ankles and pushes them farther up until his feet hang in the air and his knees are nearly at his chest.
Reaper groans, hands twitching where he put them across his face. He is only half-undressed, the Soldier had been too eager to get at his hole, but Jack is more than ready to rectify the situation.
“Stop it,” he tells him again, then lets his legs fall onto his shoulders so he can shove at his shirt, fingers slipping on the clasps of his armor until he can finally ruck it up beneath his pits.
Reaper is watching him, eyes glowing a faint red between his fingers. He looks angry, yet still he lets himself get used obediently, lying back whenever Jack has a need – whenever he can’t stop staring at Reaper’s ass, fantasizing about that sweet, accommodating hole beneath. He’ll always spread his legs for Jack. The Soldier.
Always let him fuck him like a cheap whore; let him bark orders and follow them along like a mutt, eager to debase himself.
He is addicted to the burn of Jack’s cock; the stretch, and the pain that comes from his sharp, merciless fucking.
“Don’t cover your face,” Jack grunts again, a vein swelling on his forehead the more he exerts himself, fucking doggedly into the warm cunt –
and Reaper finally pulls his hands away; shows him how he dug his sharp teeth into his lips, trying not to whine as he gets fucked; red eyes a little wet as he stares at his own legs bouncing obscenely in the air.
It’s a little hard breathing like this – but at least he doesn’t need as much oxygen anymore.
Cyberrat Writes 