Unauthorised Lunch Break

Disclaimer: Abuse of authority, non-consensual groping at the beginning, some electrostimulation, mixture of fem/masc terms for Raikov's junk.

It’s been yet another productive morning for Major Ivan Raidenovich Raikov. 

~0500: Woke up, made himself pretty then had breakfast, pocketing any and all leftovers.

~0600: Half-arsed some paperwork then went on his daily rounds across Groznyj Grad.

~0700: Harassed a group of patrolling guards and spent half an hour beating one senseless for not saluting him in a timely manner.

~0800: Recounted the base’s ration supply and restocked his own secret stash.

~0900: Took a luxurious nap in the East Wing’s lounge room, undisturbed.

~1300: Arose from his slumber and decided to check up on progress from the R&D department.

And here he is now, strolling through the claustrophobic lab as if he owns the place, the clip of heeled boots deliberate and echoing off the walls, arms held behind his back.  He looms past each cubicle with a feline-like prowl, trying to weed out which little mouse would crack first so he can have some fun.  Every seated scientist he passes freezes like a deer in headlights at the sight of those piercing blue predatory eyes and pale lips pulled into a devious smoulder, a face so punchable it just begs to have his hair pulled and face shoved into the ground.

As he stalks down the narrow walkway, an unfortunate soul blocks his route who wishes he was never born the moment his eyes lock with the Major’s.  A feeble ‘Eek!’ is knocked from the scientist’s vocal cords as a gloved hand strikes to mercilessly fondle his jewels, one rough tug sending the older man to his knees, meeting the concrete with a whimper.

Raikov presses his boot to the scientist's crotch, threatening to kick his gonads into his pelvic girdle with a shit-eating grin,  “And what do you say?”  His shrill yet sultry voice coos, revelling at how the greying man quivers at his feet.

“I’m sorry! Th-tha-thank you, Major, s-sir..!”  Comes the kneeling scientist's response, the pathetic plea like birdsong to his ears.

“Hmph.”  The Major glowers down at him, unsatisfied as always.  As much as he wants to satiate the urge to beat this man into a bloody urine soaked puddle, he was already reprimanded this week for disrupting the science department's work on the Shagohod project.  There’s no denying the punishment is a guilty pleasure of his, but he knows how important this is to the Colonel. 

Swivelling on a heel, he leaves the frightened wreck to cower like a mutt.  A warning to all the other personnel in the lab. 

As he struts off, a sly idea comes to mind... If he can’t risk the consequences of hospitalising yet another scientist, the least he can do is deprive them of their lunch.  Maybe they’ll be driven to work harder in the hopes of nourishing themselves, impressing Volgin with his tactical use of encouragement, thus making him proud.  It’s not like he’d ever turn his nose up at the chance to nab another snack or two anyway.

The conniving Major slinks from cubicle to cubicle, scouring each desk for anything he can lay his grubby hands on.  A few pieces of jerky are quick to be chewed up in his jaws and he snatches a baggie of dried fruit morsels and seeds, stuffing it into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

Snickering, Major Raikov pats his uniform flat and adjusts the cap sitting atop his platinum locks as he turns to leave the lab.  However, something - or someone - halts him in his tracks as his exit is blockaded.

In the doorway stands the brick shithouse himself, Volgin.  He towers over the lesser man, his grimace warped by the gnarly scars that paint half his face, electric eyes peering down at Ivan.  A large red hand moves to Raikov’s chin, tilting his gaze upwards to meet his and thumbing away a crumb from the man’s lower lip,  “Major, I knew I would find you here. Just what do you think you’re doing?”

A rhetorical question; he saw everything.

“I was just surveilling their work. What, is fun not allowed anymore?”  Staring up through thick brown eyelashes, the snarky younger man folds his arms behind his back, unable to wipe the smirk from his face.  He’s playing a dangerous game.

“You…”  The Colonel takes another step forward, his chest nearly pressed against Ivan’s chin,  “You never learn, do you?”  Needing a taste of his own medicine, Volgin thrusts his hand between Ivan’s legs, squeezing a hand firmly against his crotch.  There’s no stopping the yelp that escapes the younger’s lips as he feels a thick digit press over his entrance through layers of cloth.

Softly chuckling under his breath, his white hair falls over a shoulder as he maintains eye contact with his commanding officer,  “You know I can’t help myself… Volgin.”  He makes sure to drag out each syllable of the name, a giddy feeling sprouting in his stomach as he feels his hairs stand on end with static.

Not only had he walked in on Raikov abusing his authority when previously instructed not to, taken what isn’t his and not bother to show an ounce of respect in his presence, but he also had the audacity to speak his name so informally in front of his men.  Unacceptable. 

In a (literal) flash, the Major is dragged by his lapels to the closest desk, boxed in with no escape by those pillars for arms.  The thud of their collision resonates around the lab and important documents scatter to the ground as the two deviants rub up against one another; they’re just as sick as the other.

In the air lingers a collective and silent agreement between each scientist present, an agreement to not intervene or even look their way while they’re getting… busy with each other.

A knee is jammed between his thighs, prying them apart so the same hand can continue its assault.  Volgin runs his hand up Raikov’s front and up the crevice of his ass, a domineering growl against the shell of his ear,  “You little wretch, I oughta strip you bare in the courtyard and allow anybody to do as they please with you for such insubordination. I know you know better than that...” 

“Oh, Colonel, don’t make promises you can’t keep. I know you couldn’t do that to me~”  He croons in response, wholly uncaring if the entirety of the room can hear their dirty conversation, the sickos.  

The 'little wretch' grips Volgin’s belt with both hands, yanking the immovable man closer, needing a whiff of his ozone cologne.  So addictive.  

Anybody else would be a fine red mist at this point, but Ivan?  Some part of Yevgeny’s blackened heart had a chamber just for him.

Depriving him of an answer, all Raikov receives is another growl as he’s shoved further against the edge of the desk, a pleasant ache in his lower back.  That hand continues to slide to and fro on Ivan’s clothed pussy, the other travels up his side, pinching a hip then going up to squeeze a pec just below the armpit.  Volgin’s groping hand pauses briefly as he feels over the breast pocket, digging out the bag of goodies hidden within. 

“I’ll be taking that.”  An unimpressed scowl, the snack is confiscated and hidden away into his own pocket.

“Colonel!一”

“I’ve heard enough out of you.”  Volgin wastes no time in silencing his subordinate, moving his hand from his chest towards Ivan’s flushed cheek, pressing in to part those vulgar lips with a thumb.  He cackles at the way the Major’s expression shifts from mild resentment to bliss while his thumb prods against the flat of his tongue.

A high pitched keen comes from the smaller man as he feels a sharp jolt zip through his pelvis from the sensation of two thick fingers finding and crowding his clit, pinching and rolling through his pants and underwear.  He can’t help but jut his hips forward, body begging for more.

A toothy grin spreads across half of the Colonel’s features, evidently very pleased with his pet’s receptiveness as it’s made clear by the way he presses his own hardening cock against the other’s hip,  “That’s it…”  He grunts out, hooking a thumb into Raikov’s cheek and harshly pulling to uncover his rows of pearly whites and gums.

Ivan visibly trembles at the praise, wishing for more.  He tugs on Volgin’s belt again, just enough to loosen it and be able to swipe aside the hem of his trench coat, revealing the restrained monster trapped behind red rubber.  A gruff hum works its way out Volgin’s throat as he feels a leather clad hand grasp at his bulge like his life depends on it.

Minutes go by, sex and literal electricity fills the air.  The desk they chose for their little tryst is a mess of crumpled sheets, binders fallen to the floor, pencils strewn about, the table creaks with each hump and grind.

Growing weary of mere fondling and grinding, Yevgeny takes a step back to study his work so far; Ivan is a hot mess, his silvery hair tousled, uniform wrinkled and he sports a dark stain of arousal between his legs.  Pathetic and needy, just how he likes his meals.  “Hmm.. since you can’t seem to get anything done around here, how about I put you to work, eh?”  He slides a hand to the back of Raikov’s head in an almost affectionate gesture, before grabbing a fistful of hair, yanking the man upright to stand at attention. 

A hiss is pulled from Raikov’s clenched jaw as Volgin drags him by the hair out the lab, marching him down a flight of stairs, “I’ll make good use of you, Major.”  The Colonel states with a bout of dark laughter, leading the way into a supply room on the ground floor, a room the Major is certainly familiar with.

The door behind them seals shut and a dim light overhead blinks to life.  The grip on Raikov's hair is released and he steadies himself against a wall, removing his cap and placing it upon a shelf.  “So rough, Zhenyusha..”  He utters, grooming a hand through his platinum locks.

“I'll show you rough, my dear. Now, hurry and present yourself to me…” Volgin coos as his frame eclipses the single bulb above, his hands working to unfasten his belt.

He knows not to keep Colonel Volgin waiting, the obedient little pet that he is.  Raikov obeys and kicks off his boots and removes his breeches, letting them fall past his ankles.  He flips himself around and lays his palms flat against the wall, arching his back to accentuate his (lack of) curves.  Although falling short in the ass department, Ivan's skin is flawless, pale and pristine.  His jet black thong stands out beautifully against his flesh, the most crucial element to his uniform at the Colonel's request.

A smug laugh sounds from behind him as two cold gloved hands reach in to caress and marvel at the feast laid before him, near inaudible words of praise leaving scarred lips as he feels those hands stroke his hip bones and knead his asscheeks.

Volgin lifts a hand and spanks Ivan right on the flank, watching a perfect angry handprint bloom like watercolours on a canvas.  If he wasn't such a busy man, he would paint and mark his lover until the sun imploded.

Enough playing around, it's time for the main course.  Yevgeny tugs on the black string situated between the man's cheeks, pulling it aside and peering down.  Bending over a smidge more and pushing his ass out, Raikov offers himself to his superior, a sheen of slick coating the thong.

“Sopping wet already. How wonderfully disgusting you are.”  Volgin pulls it back like a bowstring before releasing, letting the garment snap back with a wet slap against Ivan's pussy.  An impatient groan follows, with an enticing sway of hips.  The sound of a heavy zipper being dragged open fills the cramped space and Raikov's breath hitches with anticipation.

At long last Volgin's girth is freed, large veins climb up its length, scars deforming the skin like a circumcision gone wrong.  He drags the fat tip through Ivan's pretty pink folds, lathering up his secret weapon with the pre.  As he prods and teases, his thumb pins the thong to the side, gripping his waist in preparation for his entry.  He forces his way past the tight opening and pushes to about half way, the other man’s velvety innards embracing him.  He feels how Ivan’s body shakes as his cock ventures further, eventually bottoming out, Volgin’s hips flush with Raikov’s behind.  A painfully snug fit, stretching him to his limits.

Raikov gasps and fidgets, the familiar ache of Volgin's cock kissing his cervix so amazingly unbearable.  He bows his head, mouth agape, watching the Colonel's hips begin to thrust from between his own legs.  A drawn out satisfied groan is pulled from Volgin's throat as he sinks in, Raikov's hole hungrily sucking him back in,  “Your cunt is just as greedy as that mouth of yours, Vanya.”  He snickers, thumb digging into the deep tissue of the Major’s glute causing the other to let out a whine, needing more, more and yet more.

It's not long before Volgin is ruthlessly hammering his cock into the younger man, his rhythm never faltering and his pounding only becoming harsher with each obscene slap of flesh against flesh.  His grip on Ivan’s hips is vice-like, the tender skin beneath each digit scorching with heat and sizzling with electricity.  Yanking a fistful of white hair and drawing Ivan’s head back, nothing stops the flood of curses and pornographic cries that pour from the smaller man.

“Yes! Scream for me, pretty boy!”  He bellows, the pistoning of his hips relentless, giving Raikov’s cunt a well deserved beating.  If it wasn’t for his gloves, his fingernails would’ve splintered and painted the wall red, clinging for dear life as he’s fucked raw.

And he adores every second of it.

“Mmn! Colonel, more! I need..”  Raikov whimpers, a knot of sensitivity fizzling inside him with each pound, desperate for more stimulation to push him over the edge.

“More? If this isn’t enough, then do it yourself.”  Hearing those words in any other context would’ve surely put a damper on Volgin’s ego, but knowing those words come from a place of hysteria from his rough handling, it only entertains him further.  He pulls his hips back, sliding his meaty length out with a wet pop, bathing in the image of Raikov’s dripping sex gape and beg to be refilled.

All it takes is a pat on the rear for Raikov to take the hint, letting out a shaky sigh as he pushes his own hips back to couple himself with Volgin once again, weakly fucking himself on that lightning rod.  If it’s stimulation Ivan wants, then that’s what he’s gonna get.  Sparks crackle around the conjoined men, the ominous overhead bulb flickering and flashing a bright white, the room aglow with a brilliant blue.  Light flares behind Raikov’s eyes as a powerful current surges through the muscles of his thigh and back, forcing his body into convulsions.  He stutters on Volgin’s dick, his insides suddenly seizing and gripping around the other as a violent orgasm tears through him.  His screams are pure bliss to the Colonel.

“Come on now Major, work those hips!”  A flurry of open-handed slaps are volleyed at his slender behind, each hit charged and sending shocks throughout Ivan’s nervous system as he sorely tries to keep up a consistent pace on trembling legs. 

It’s so agonising, the voltage coursing through him and his insurmountable need.  Too frazzled to carry on, he presses his ass smooth against his superior’s groin so he’s fully sheathed.  Ivan sobs as he grinds out against him, wanting nothing more but for Volgin to seize the reins and quench his desire.  Nothing vitalises the man more than having complete control, so he takes it.

With an animalistic snarl, Volgin hoists one of Raikov’s legs upwards and out to his side, allowing him plenty of space to let loose.  His grasp is bruising as he pummels that poor pussy, his one and only goal to thoroughly breed and destroy his pet, fuck some obedience into him.  Ivan wails and sputters on his own spit as he’s crushed against the brick wall, taking it like a true champ as his hole is obliterated by a man two times his size.

Yevgeny’s breath is hot on Ivan’s nape, his own pleasure steadily rising.  Through the pounding, a latex glove shoots down to attack Raikov’s overly sensitive cockhead, his knees buckling as soon as fingers make contact with his bare flesh.  Volgin practically bursts at the seams as he feels the Major’s walls quiver and gush around his cock, roaring into his ear as he pumps a heavy load deep within.  Ivan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as - even after reaching climax - Volgin is just as unyielding as he resumes with his thrusts.

The ache in the entirety of his body is undeniable as he fights the urge to go totally limp in the Colonel’s arms; fingers continue to rub and encircle his dick, a continuous flow of slick and semen making every sensation all the more intense and slippery.

Panting hard with exertion at this point, Volgin slightly adjusts his angle and grants Raikov’s abused cervix with a handful of painful, yet indulgent slams, hitting him right where it hurts.  Just as he likes it.  Ivan struggles out one last meek moan as Volgin spills for a second time, hips stilling to allow his lover to feel every pulse and twitch of his dick.

“Now…”  Clearing his throat, he slips his heavy limp cock from Raikov’s wrecked cunt, white seeping in a thick rope to the concrete below,  “You’re going to carry my seed for the rest of the afternoon - spill another drop and there will be consequences, Vanya dearest.”  Volgin whispers, gravel and acid lacing his words.  In one swift motion, he fixes Raikov’s black thong to cover his messy hole before pulling his breeches up, hiding the evidence of their brutal breeding.

“Clean this up and get back on patrol.”  He grabs the wobbly man by the shoulders, standing him upright like some overplayed, battered toy doll.  Once relatively steady on his feet, Raikov looks up at Volgin with the snarkiest, toothiest grin to date.

“Sir, yessir!”  The Major raises a hand to his temple in a salute, blowing a clump of hair from his flushed, sweaty face. 

“I want to see you in my quarters at 2100 hours, sharp. Do not keep me waiting, Major.”

Just like that, Colonel Volgin entrusts his right-hand man to rid the room of their sins.  While cleaning and making himself presentable once more, Raikov cannot wipe the smile from his smug little face.

He knows he won’t be showing up on time.