Duckie

He's overstimulated. He's sweating, he's cold, he's horny, he's confused and more importantly, he's unable to fucking move.

His bands are bound with rope tied intricatly around his wrists, Alejandro's handiwork. And there's a large, burly man parked on each of his tighs as he sits with his legs spread just enough to make his cock an easy target to grope should the mood strike them.

Alejandro sits on a chair opposite the bed, there's an empty glass on the arm of the chair and he's making work on a cigarette, ignoring the buldge in his jeans.

John's tounge swirls around his right nipple before latching on to suck, teeth grazing the oh so sensitive flesh as Nikolai drags an ice cube over his left until it's achingly hard.

If he could thrash, he would but the bindings are tight and so he settles on writhing and trying not to buck up into Nikolai's hand when it grazes his cock.

For a brief second, he thinks he has outlasted them. He believes that the cowboy has sauntered away from battle, unscathed.

And then he feels an ice cube trail over his hot, damp nipple as a tounge circles the other cold, red bud.

This is Hell. He is in Hell.

He isn't aware that he's whining or moaning like a harlot, from John's description until he hears a gravelly chuckle and sees Nik turn to look at Alejandro.

"This is all it takes to make him squirm? My friend, how much time do you have?"

That's what makes it obvious.

The way he can't sit comfortably. His thighs tensing, his hand jerking as it sends a streak of ink across the page, the firm set of his shoulders as his free hand grips his armrest with a force that makes the plastic creak.

How his lashes flutter, his cheeks flushed a violent scarlett as he forces himself to start at the beginning of the page for the third time because he simply can't concentrate on the words in front of him.

His thumb, twitching eratically as he struggles to keep it pressed against the warmed metal of his pen.

His jaw, clenched until it sends an aching through his skull because he can't trust himself should his mouth fall open.

His back, pressed flat against his chair because he can't trust himself not to collapse over the desk and weep if his posture isn't that of a perfect solider.

It isn't until he slams his knee off of the underside of his desk, ripping screws from wood, his knees clamping closed with such an intensity that he hears a faint muffled groan of protest, that he finally decides to call it quits with the paperwork.

Pushing his chair back, he stares under his desk with a glare that could chisel concrete.

And staring back at him, sitting lazily on his heels, hair sticking up at every angle with his face slickened from the nose down is Alejandro.

Face awfully calm for a man who has spent the last 40 minutes with his face buried in Rudy's cunt, lapping, sucking and nipping away with the ferocity of a man starved.

Wearing such a casual demeanor for a man whose lips are glistening wet with his partner's arousal under the light as he watches Rudy, pupils blown wide with lust.

Innapropriately nonchalant for a man sporting an evident cum stain across the crotch of his pants.

"If you bury three fingers in my pussy while I am on the phone again then you will spend a month wearing a cage and watching me finger myself stupid every night before bed."

Alejandro, a man with very little self preservation, grins.

It isn't until teeth nip at the pads of his fingertips that he thinks to check on Rudy, abandoning his paperwork to check on the other man sitting between his knees under the desk.

The sergeant mayor's pupils are blown and Alejandro can feel the heat rising from the other man's skin. He isn't sure if Rudy knows that his cock is dampening the thing fabric of his boxers with pre as the other man peers up at him.

He's utterly gone.

He can't help but coo, pulling his fingers from the wet heat of his partner's mouth and smearing saliva over his cheeks.

It's a delight to watch Rudy shiver as the cold air meets the tacky skin. His lips are rosy red and swollen as he pouts, tilting his head at Alejandro expectantly.

"Only a little longer, querido."

In fact, Rudy is confident that the man lost said ability when Alejandro started trailing a vibrator down the underside of his cock while thrusting his cock up against the blonde's prostate.

And typically, Rudy would stop to check on the man.

But his thighs are quivering, his clit is grinding against the man's nose just right, and his arousal is smeared all over the Commander's lips and chin.

He's breathless and whiny when he murmurs at Alejandro over his shoulder, "Creo que deberíamos quedarnos con él."

The way Graves' moan vibrates through his cunt is exactly how he learns the man knows more Spanish than he lets on.

Alejandro's feigned nonchalance would be a lot more effective if Rudy couldn't hear the telltale growl in his voice that told him the man was trying desperately not to cum too quickly.

"Keep him? He's already ours."

Pulling it out with tweezers is a difficult task when Alejandro stands beside him, howling with laughter.

Their headboard is broken, old wood snapped under the white knuckled grip of Rudy's hands as he clutched it for balance with the colonel's head between his legs, tongue buried in his cunt.

And so, he stands naked under the light of their bathroom, pulling a tiny wooden fragment from the pad of his thumb, inner thighs raw from the friction of Ale's stubble as the man holds onto their sink for support and cackles like a madman, chin still wet with his arousal.

It's only fair that Rudy puts it to use.

Their clothes litter the bedroom floor, thrown haphazardly over their shoulders in a frantic rush to feel skin on skin. There's lube on the nightstand, and a riding crop held loosely in his hand.

"Mi amor?"

Alejandro's tone is pathetic, whiny and pleading as he peers up through the loose curls hanging in his face. He can see almost every tattoo painted over tanned skin as the colonel's muscles flex.

Rudy can see the shiver rack through the other man as the riding crop meets his shoulder with a crack. He watches the red bloom over the abused skin and hears Alejandro suck a breath through his teeth.

"I lost count, you'll have to start again."

Alejandro groans, deep and guttural, but lowers himself back to the floor until his nose touches wood.

"Only twenty more, then you can touch me."