Oh, Really?

Colonel Regina Kasteen, of the 597th Valhallan, had removed the jacket of her summer dress uniform to cope with the heat. It still wasn't quite enough, but the insulated pitcher of icewater helped. Still, she reflected, it wasn't the heat that bothered her as much as the feeling of uselessness.

The regiment had been rotated back from combat postings for some well-deserved R&R, but the petite redhead had a quite accurate reputation as an obsessive workaholic. If she wasn't leading the regiment into combat, she wanted to have something to do more than just reviewing status reports and racing on foot around the camp's perimeter with her immediate subordinate, Major Ruput Broklaw. The PT regimen was pleasant enough - although she was a regimental officer, she still thought of herself as a soldier like any other - but a woman could only work out for so many hours a day before going insane. The same was true of these damned reports. Who cared that the motor pool's field repair teams were 115% over standard efficiency rating when their vehicles weren't going anywhere? And all the medical officers had to report was a steady trickle of cases of heatstroke or, on one particularly hot day recently, broken bones and concussions sustained in a brawl.

She heard whistling and footsteps outside her office door, a moment before it slammed open, propelled by Major Broklaw's bootheel. He lowered his extended leg and waltzed into the room, pulling a dataslate out of the briefcase under his arm. "Good morning, Colonel," he said, in uncharacteristically jovial tones. A huge smile was plastered across his face. "How do you do?"

She stared at him. "Ruput. What in the warp have you... you're never this cheerful, ever. Are you drunk?"

He shrugged and tossed the slate onto her desk. "No, I'm just trying to keep myself amused. Ma'am. I just came from the Commissar's office. These are the disciplinary reports from that brawl the other week. It's the usual penalties."

She picked up the slate and examined the scrolling text. "Latrines... kitchen duty... Mechanicus liaison? I don't envy Magot. That girl's a peril to everyone around her. But I'm sure you didn't come here just to share what Jurgen would be bringing to my desk later today."

"No, colonel, you're right." He dropped the briefcase on the desk, snatched up one of the folding chairs and flicked his wrist, unfolding it and dropping it to the floor in one movement, then dropped himself into it. "You know, though, we've been working together for a few years. Have I ever told you that I find you fascinating?"

"No, Ruput, I don't believe you have," said Kasteen, raising her eyebrows. "You're pretty interesting yourself, for a stormtrooper. What do you mean?"

He smiled and leaned forward. "Well, you know we work well together. We're a team, the commander and executive officer of the 597th. I think of you as a friend as well as my superior officer, Regina," he said, putting emphasis on her given name. "But I don't think I've told you I feel a considerable amount of affection for you."

"That's prohibited fraternization," said Kasteen, flushing slightly. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or a twinge of anger - was he mocking her? "Major, from one friend to another, exactly why are you bringing this up now?"

"Because I know you. I know you well enough to understand the way you look at me. The way you flush slightly when we get close, like now." He was suddenly standing, leaning over her desk to look her in the eye. The heat in her face was becoming intense. Definitely embarrassment.

"This is... I mean, you..." She swallowed. There wasn't much point in denying it. And Broklaw, while not a particularly large man, had a presence about him that she found slightly intimidating at times. Times like now. She decided to come clean. "Yes, th-that's true. But it's not as if-" She broke off suddenly, as Broklaw vaulted over her desk to stand over her. She stood up to face him, her chair falling to the floor with a clatter.

"As if what?" Broklaw's intimidation factor was lessened by the smile on his face. It wasn't the amused grin from earlier. It was something gentler.

"Like I said. It's not as if there's anything we can do about it. The regulations-"

"Can go hang," said Broklaw. "This doesn't have to leave this room."

Kasteen glanced at the open door, then turned back. "What 'this' are you talking about? There isn't anything between-"

Suddenly Broklaw was on her, pinning her to the wall. "There could be," he purred. It wasn't a combat hold he had her in - if it was, she wouldn't have been able to breathe, much less move. She felt curiously disinclined to knee him in the gonads, though.

"What about the open door?"

In answer, Broklaw let go of her left arm to pick up the briefcase and hurl it toward the door. It bounced open as it hit the wall, then the door on the rebound. The door closed, most of the way.

"It's good enough," he said. "Where were we? Oh, right. Were you going to kick me in the nads?"

"No," Kasteen said. "I wondered if I should, but-"

"Good, then," said Broklaw. He gripped the collar of her tunic and pulled hard. She was only yanked forward for a moment; the light fabric gave way, buttons popping off, and he tore it away from her body.

Kasteen was still half-stunned. "Are you sure that-" Broklaw didn't wait for her to finish, already snapping open her belt and undoing her trousers. What the hell, she decided, I might as well go along. She managed to get the bottom half of her uniform off without removing her boots.

She had barely formed that thought when her underpants were torn away, just as her tunic had been. She felt vaguely annoyed by that; they were just general-issue underpants, not one of the special things she'd bought for herself, but it was still a little reckless to destroy Munitorium property like that. She said as much, gasping as the major's fingers entered her.

He grinned the same dangerous, crooked grin he had worn when he had first come into her office. "I'm a stormtrooper, Colonel. That's just how we work."

Kasteen laughed. "Carry on, major. Are you sure you don't want a bit of help from a woman?" She had grabbed his belt and undone it before he could react.

Broklaw cleared the desk with a single sweep of his arm, papers and data-slates falling to the floor. In a flash he had turned back to Kasteen and thrown her bodily onto the desk. He lost his trousers and shredded his underpants, his movements almost too fast to track.

"At least you didn't come unarmed, Maj-- aah!" He had entered her roughly, as far as he could thrust. He continued to thrust rapidly, provoking a moan and a delicious shiver from his superior. She braced herself with her feet and thrust back at him. It wasn't long before she reached orgasm, panting and arching her back. The shuddering tension of her body brought Broklaw to climax as well, and he grunted like he'd taken a body blow as he drove himself into her as hard as he could.

After a few moments, they relaxed, though Kasteen continued to grind against him. Broklaw started to pull away, but the colonel's legs locked behind him with surprising strength. "You might be an assault specialist," she said with a grin, "but there's no way I'm letting you hit and run."

She started pumping against him, as he had thrust into her. This time, though, he could hardly reciprocate, worn out as he had become. He groaned, his overstimulated member burning like it was on fire. "Regina, Throne's sake," he choked out, "I can't take this."

"You brought it upon yourself," she said, without a note of sympathy. "You're the stormtrooper that decided to tangle with the former leader of a garrison support company. Do you know how often we had to hoof it cross-country, before Corania, with our Chimeras groaning under their loads or out of fuel? Do you know what kind of endurance that takes? You're not leaving until I let you go, and I'm not letting you go until I'm tired."

"But-"

"Besides, you're still hard enough to stay in me. Stow it, Major."

"Yes, ma'am." Broklaw tried to match her pace, to minimize the friction. He -was- tired, though, his movements were sluggish and his abdominal muscles were starting to burn. Meanwhile, the colonel was clearly enjoying herself, both from the unavoidable rubbing between them, and from the discomfiture showing on his face. She reached down and cupped his balls in her hand, massaging them. Broklaw groaned again, stiffening despite his fatigue. His thrusts got a little quicker, though not quite his initial pace. He cried out as a second climax hit him, almost painful in its intensity.

He slumped, realizing Kasteen wasn't yet done. She pumped her hips still, and pushed a hand down between them to toy with herself at the same time. A minute later she, too, came a second time.

Major Broklaw looked at her, wondering if they were done, but as Kasteen recovered, she continued to rock against him. He decided it was time to make the best of a difficult situation, and grabbed one of the colonel's breasts. It was pleasantly firm, no more than a handful for him. He squeezed, teasing the nipple, and Kasteen moaned. He grabbed the other as well, and began to squeeze and stroke them, which provoked further happy sounds from her. He squeezed a little harder, pinching one nipple between thumb and forefinger, and listened to her moaning. It was increasing in both pitch and volume, and that had to be a good sign. With the last of his strength Broklaw resumed thrusting into her, and presently her drawn-out moan turned into a startled squeak as she came a third time. She shuddered as much as she would have standing naked in a Valhallan blizzard, and her legs squeezed him about the hips so tightly he was sure he would have bruises within the hour.

Finally, Kasteen relaxed, her arched body dropping back to the smooth poly-wood of her desk. She released her grip on Broklaw, who stumbled and grabbed her thighs for support.

Kasteen was staring blankly at the ceiling with a smile on her face. "Major Broklaw," she said, "Do you think you've learned anything this morning?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I learned not to try to take an opponent by force on her own territory."

Kasteen nodded faintly. "That's a good lesson. Next time, try diplomacy."

"Diplomacy? Hmm..." Broklaw scratched his head. "Not my forte. I might as well try a prolonged siege."