#expop

Despite your best efforts, you can’t hold back the high pitched whine that claws its way from your chest. You press a clammy palm to your mouth, hoping to lock away any other rogue sounds that might escape, but the man before you lets out a displeased grunt and tears your palm away with his free hand. His other hand is busy buried under your Murkoff issued garments, strong fingers working feverish circles into your throbbing clit.

If your frantic panting and poorly contained sounds of pleasure aren’t enough to give you away, then surely the increasingly slick sound from between your legs will draw attention. Your heart hammers in your chest like a panicked rabbit – the idea of Coyle finding you like this makes a cold sweat break out across your skin despite the intense heat radiating off your partner. You’d seen Coyle wandering the courthouse not too far from here, and you silently hope that he is oblivious enough to not follow the sounds of your secret rendezvous.

Your wandering thoughts are leashed and yanked to a halt as two leather clad fingers push their way into your core. You bite your lip hard as a moan threatens to pierce the stuffy air of the office, wincing as the biting tang of iron seeps into your mouth. The metal tips of the glove press insistently into the soft curve of your g-spot, leaving your legs trembling against the desk that digs hard into the backs of your thighs. Pitcher hisses in excitement, nudging the scorching hot mouth of his mask against your cheek in an attempt to get you to open up for him.

You gasp, keening as you arch up into him and clamp down around his fingers. Your slick has completely drenched the palm of his glove and begun trailing down your thighs, soaking the thick cotton of your underwear and leaving it clinging to the back of Pitcher’s glove. He grunts irritably as the fabric restricts his movements, hurriedly pulling his fingers from you so he can roughly shove the underwear down your legs. You whimper at the loss of sensation, digging your nails into his chest as you look at him with tear glossed eyes, pleading for more. Pitcher’s eyes roll back in his head at the sudden sweet sting of pain, happily obliging your request.

Strong hands grip the back of your thighs, hoisting you onto the cold surface of the desk and tugging your legs apart to bare your center for him. He practically purrs at the sight of how wet you are for him, a pleased chuff rattling through the muzzle of his mask. His thumbs pull your lips wide, attention zoning in on your hole as it clenches around nothing and leaks more viscous fluid under his intense gaze. One thumb moves to scoop up a string of slick that has started to drool down the curve of your ass and pushes it back into you, slowly thrusting so that you can feel the resistance of the knuckle pushing against your tight rim.

Your hands wind around his biceps, gripping the corded muscles there as you roll your hips and dig your heels into his ass to bring him closer. He chuckles, the raspy sound sending a shiver across your body. His thumb slips from you, wiping the wetness on your skin before moving to shift his skirt so you can see the outline of his erection outlined down the leg of his pants.

You dig your heels again, causing him to stumble and press his hips against the junction of your thigh. Your thighs close around his hips above his bottle-filled belt and you look up at him through hooded eyes, grinding yourself against his hard length. A growl tears from his throat, impatient fingers digging bruises into the meat of your thighs as he unlocks your legs from around him and rushes to unzip his pants so he can pull out his cock.

You thank whatever god the man worships that he had the foresight to leave a lit molotov near the corner of the room. Despite the murky darkness that clings like a veil over the room, the small fire works hard to leave a decent level of visibility. The soft amber film of light dances across the two of you, seemingly telling you where to look as it dapples across his skin like a golden false sun.

You can’t help the needy groan that falls from your parted lips as your gaze falls upon it. It had been so long since the last time you’d had him like this, you’d almost forgotten the incredible sight of what he was packing. It’s nearly intimidating how large he is, the heavy, scarred length of it hanging practically halfway down his thigh. Thick veins wind along the sides, pulsing hard under the tight skin of his scars as they lead your vision lower, honing you in on the ruddy, dripping tip.

He grips it around the base, shifting so he can smear the precum pearled at the slit against your sensitive clit. His teeth clack behind the mask, a frantic low yelp erupting from him as the sensation hits him like a train. He frots the fat crown of his dick against your clit a couple more times, drawing desperate gasps from you with each pass along the throbbing bundle of nerves. Suddenly, the tip slips lower, catching on the edge of your entrance and drawing a startled moan from you.

Pitcher takes that as his cue and wastes no time in pushing home. Your walls are suddenly speared open, wet muscles gripping over every new inch of inhumanly warm hardness that works its way into you. A wail rips itself from your throat, thankfully being quickly muffled by Pitcher’s chest as he leans over you. He firmly plants his palms on both sides of your head, curling his metal fingertips into the creaking wood of the desk as he starts to rut into you at an animalistic pace.

His breath comes out in searing pants against the conch of your ear, interspersed by eager grunts and growls as he tries and fails to tell you how wonderful you’re making him feel. One hand leaves the desk, trailing down the swell of your shoulder to snap sparks against the thin skin of your chest. You hiss as the sparks bite into you, the bright licks of pain only serving to heighten your senses.

He continues lower, sparks littering your ribcage and stomach as he plows into you at a punishing pace. The pathetic whine you let out with each new snap only spurs him on, and he can’t stop himself from shoving his face against your neck. The ring of his muzzle leaves almost hickey-like circles as it burns into your neck, spattering hot flecks of gasoline across the skin as he wheezes giddily.

You’re almost too drunk on pleasure to notice the scratching rrrap-tap-tap sound coming from your left. The sound worms its way into your ear, nagging you until your naturally ingrained curiosity and paranoia give in. Pitcher is too busy marking you to pay attention, his face now buried in your shoulder as he presses his friction heated metal fingertips into your hip like a brand. You slowly turn your head to look, grateful that your partner takes it as a sign to further mark your neck rather than follow your gaze.

Your whole body clenches in shock, a stuttered yelp leaving your mouth as your eyes are met with two green orbs staring back at you through the window of the office. You’re barely able to make out the body behind the green orbs, but you see a pale, spindly limb reach up to press a finger against exposed teeth in a mocking hush motion. When the hell did he enter the trial?

Night Hunter’s toothy grin somehow seems to grow wider – his hand lifts to the window, fingers wiggling hello to you as your attention is momentarily brought back to Pitcher by a particularly rough thrust. Your hands fly up to his back, nails dragging welts over smooth skin and rough patches of raised scars. Pitcher howls into your skin, moving both hands to viciously grip your hips as he angles himself deeper, the head of his cock bruising itself into your cervix.

You’re practically sobbing at the commingling pain and pleasure that racks your body, the aching pressure of him inside you seeming to link pathways with the tingling burns he’s left all over your body. Every nerve throbs with crossed wires that only seem to take your pleasure to new heights – a sickly sweet reminder of why you love these impromptu hookups so much.

Despite the overwhelming waves of sensation rolling over you, you manage to turn your attention to the window again. Your eyes peel wide as you take in the sight it offers you. Night Hunter is pressed up against the glass, pants haphazardly hung down his hips as he strokes his hard length against the see-through surface. There’s a smudgy mess where he’s smeared precum all over the glass, similar to the streaky mess that’s accumulated where he’s attempted to press his face closer, limited only by the space his goggles create.

His tongue slips out, leaving a messy streak along the clear surface as drool cascades over his lower teeth. Your cunt clenches tight around Pitcher as you remember the last time you’d been with Night Hunter – the way his tongue had wormed its way inside you and ravaged you until you were swollen, overstimulated, and crying. “What’s’a matter, honey? Can’t take it no more?” Another sloppy, urgent lick against your overworked clit. “I’ll wring another one out of you little mouse, even if it hurts.”

Your nails dig harder into Pitcher, drawing blood this time as you moan loudly. His thrusts stutter momentarily as the pain goes straight to his dick, making him dizzy with pleasure. He snarls and leans back, adjusting his footing so he can fuck into you faster, the wet slap of his balls against your ass echoing throughout the room. Each thrust is punctuated with a high pitched keen from you, your body writhing under him as the pleasure starts to coil in your gut like a snake, ready to sink its fangs into your nervous system.

Pitcher picks up on the shift in your tone and the way your body sucks him in harder. He shouts excitedly, slipping his hands under your knees so he can bring them up to your chest and push deeper. The new angle knocks the breath from your lungs, leaving your head tilting back and mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Pitcher’s head lolls back as well, dead eyes rolling into empty space as he practically fucks the shape of his cock into your guts. A reedy, faltering groan filters through his mask as he feels his own orgasm creeping up on him.

A movement in your peripheral drags your shaky attention back to Night Hunter. He’s humping his tightened fist against the window, the tip of his cock smushing unceremoniously against the glass. His faltering breath leaves patches of moisture against the surface, tinted an unnerving shade of green by his ever-glowing goggles. Saliva floods your tongue at the idea of taking the place of the glass – having him smush his flushed red tip against your soft palate instead, swallowing around him as he drools and gnashes over your pliant body.

The thought paired with Pitcher’s unrelenting pounding of your cunt sends you over the edge, a violent orgasm ripping through you and blinding you in a rush of white stars. You screw your eyes shut tight, chanting Pitcher’s name over and over as pleasure tears through you. Your walls wrap around his cock in a vise grip, gushing slick around the base and making a mess of the front of his pants. Pitcher lets out a strangled gargle as he feels your body choke down on him, pulling you in as close as possible as his orgasm follows suit. His length kicks almost aggressively inside of you, head pushing insistently against the crevice of your cervix as scalding hot ropes of cum fill you up.

You two stay locked like that for a moment, panting against each other’s sweaty skin as you ride the aftershocks of your orgasms. Pitcher is the first to pull away, skilled hands gently massaging the knots that had formed in your legs from the little excursion. You hum in gratitude, stretching your arms above your head as you slowly come to your senses. You turn your head to see if Night Hunter is still there, but the green orbs are nowhere to be seen – the only evidence of his presence being the new stains on the window.

When Pitcher is satisfied with your ability to move, he tucks himself back in his pants and helps you down from the desk. You go to grab your underwear, but he tsks at that, quickly grabbing the damp garments and shoving them in his pocket. You grumble at him, crossing your arms as he gives you the small mercy of pulling your bottoms back up over your now bare hips.

He wheezes at you in amusement, pinching your singed cheek before turning to collect his now dwindling molotov. You trail after him on shaky legs as he exits the room, watching as he makes his way to the nearest insertion gate. He casts one last glance at you over his shoulder, droopy eyes dead as ever as he throws you a lazy wave and disappears.

You let out a disappointed huff, already missing his presence. Wincing as a warm stream of cum starts to leak out of you, you prop yourself up against the nearest wall and force yourself to focus on mentally raking over where you’d left off with the trial’s tasks. There isn’t much left to do, so you steel yourself against the content exhaustion that has settled in your bones and the thrumming ache that has made its home between your thighs. With unsteady feet, you start making your way towards the nearest hallway.

A startled shriek tears from your lungs as a cold, clammy hand clasps over your face, tugging you back into a solid body. The sharp edge of something presses against your unmarred cheek, pressing an indent deep enough to leave warm drops of blood rolling down your jaw. Hot, moist breath fans over the back of your neck, accompanied by your captor shifting so something hard and thick can press against the dip of your lower back. Their slimy tongue flicks against your ear lobe, following the line where it connects to your jaw and eagerly lapping at the fat streaks of red that now adorn the surface.