Victor Gideon with an FBI agent or DSO or literally whatever and thigh fucking pleaseeeeeeee
tags & content: NSFW, sexual content, dub-con, thigh fucking, no penetration, size difference, DSO reader, afab reader
“Who did you say you worked for again, dear?”
You both know he doesn’t need to ask; he’s already aware. Your wallet with your DSO I.D lies sprawled somewhere behind you, but with your face grasped in his large hand and forced back against his chest, it’s impossible to break free to get it.
From here, however, you can see the coy smile across his cracked lips.
You can only summon a grunt, one that trembles when his hips snap upwards deliberately. His cock, wedged between your thighs, glides rhythmically across your folds. You’re embarrassingly wet, your hips twitching whenever he just barely catches your clit.
Your frown melts despite your stubborness, trying to twist your head out of his grip. His fingers simply squeeze your jaw harder, smushing your cheeks.
“Oh, that’s right,” he purrs despite your lack of answer, the languid push and pull of his cock through your soft pussy making you squeak. You’ve completely soaked him, and you can feel the slickness coating your red thighs where he’s made a warm home for himself. His legs easily bracket around yours, pinning them tightly shut around his cock. “DSO. I wasn’t aware you had such unconventional means of interrogation. Are you sure you’re telling the truth?”
Your sharp glare amuses him, it seems, as he releases your jaw to give it a condescending pat. You double over slightly to get away from him, but with his arm banded around your waist, all you can do is lean forward.
The position makes your body sway with his languid thrusts, exposing the red hue dusted across the back of your neck. Victor’s fingers brush along the reddened nape, making you shiver.
You clasp at the arm holding your steady, shaking fingers digging into the snakeskin of his coat.
“If I investigate this place,” you choke out, your mind preoccupied by the empty, throbbing heat between your legs,” and find anything suspicious, we will—”
His thrusts turn shallow, focusing right near your hole, and your words dry up. Your hips twitch, trying to grind along the disproportionate size of him, but he seems keen to keep you where he pleases.
“If, dear,” Victor so kindly points out, his voice breathless but still eerily steady. “Empty words. Much like yourself, hm?”
“I’m sure you’d prefer not to be,” he purrs, his thrusts slowing until his cock is resting up against your soaked cunt. You groan, wiggling weakly. His free hand returns to your face, shifting under your jaw so he can pull you back against his chest again. You try to avoid his gaze, but your own glazed, watery eyes find his automatically. “Come. Why don’t we discuss the benefits of your visit in my office? I’m sure we can both walk away with a fulfilling agreement.”
Your cheeks redden, but you don’t back down. “I still have to do my job.”
Victor Gideon smiles, his voice a gentle, tempting whisper. “You can do your job after I fill your pretty pussy, can’t you, dear?”
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