A/N: Something that I made in a moment of passion, enjoy~!
It was sweaty.
It was always sweaty after a sortie. Sitting alongside a fusion reactor tends to have the effect of making a human body sweat.
It had a routine.
Wake up, get in a 'mech, sync up, deploy, kill, come back if still alive, get out, and fall into whatever passes for a bed.
It liked that.
Familiarity was good.
Today was different.
It didn't like different.
After docking and powering down her 'mech, it was told wait by an Ops Officer to wait at the unloading bay. It didn't like it, and simply decided to brush off an order and dis-
It waited at the bay, arms behind it, as instructed by Her.
"Echo Romeo India November", spoke a harsh, overworked voice.
It turned its head to the source of the words, more instinctual than not. Said source was a soldier in heavy-duty armour. A grunt. Low rank, definitely gofer of the bay. It looked at his armour, picking up weak points, just like it has been taught to.
"The Lady wishes to meet you, in her office. You know where it is. Walk, mutt."
This was different.
Usually, She met it in the Kennel.
It liked this different.
It turned on its heel and stepped to. The grunt followed, his rifle held steady and true, lined up to its head, should it ever dare consider stepping in a way it shouldn't. It didn't care. It was a weapon, it needed to be kept under guard. That's what Handler said.
Its legs nearly gave out, thinking about Her. Handler. It wanted to run, to drop to all fours, and sprint. It mustn't. Patience was rewarded by Handler.
Always.
Handler's office was a bit aways from the hanger, but it walked with glee, step after step.
The rifle never wavered.
Eventually, the grunt and it reached a long hallway.
Handler's Hallway.
Her office sat at the end.
She was so close.
It was so excited to see Handler. But it must follow the rules She gave it.
Eyes to the ground. Never speak first. Never say anything but "Thank you, Handler" and "Yes, Handler". Never think. Ne-
Its ears picked up the sound of the power doors beeping before opening. It was at the door. Handler was seated in front. It knew, it didn't look.
Never be on two feet unless told to.
It took a step and dropped to its knees, hands used to keep steady, eyes affixed to the ground.
It could hear Handler's boots clicking against the tiled floor.
It whimpered.
It was happy, it was excited, Handler was coming closer.
Handler's boots stopped right in front of it. This was…different. It was supposed to walk to Handler. Did it displease Handler? Was it a ba-
A hand, covered in black latex, lowered itself into its vision. Fingers, slipping through the gaps between the steel of the muzzle it was to wear.
"To keep you safe, my dear. You, and others."
It liked safe, and it trusted Handler. Handler could never be wrong. So it wore its muzzle as ordered.
The fingers curled, holding the muzzle in their grip. They pulled, and it looked up. It was a wordless order, and Handler is never wrong. So it must obey, Handler knows best after all. It whimpered more now, happy at having the great privilege of looking at Handler's face.
Handler was beautiful, Handler was perfect, Handler was without flaw. Raven hair, falling at the sides. Black eyes meeting its own. A black mask, hiding Her features. Yet, it could see, in those eyes, Handler's eyes, a glint of joy. Of…pride? It made Handler proud? Handler was proud?
It squirmed on the floor, a blissful smile crossing its face as it looked up at Handler. It made Handler proud. It is a good hound.
It is happy.
Handler let go, making it whine, but it didn't dare look away. Handler's visage was a rare blessing, and Handler had joy. Handler looked away, to the grunt. It whined, it couldn't help it, but it waited. Handler raised Her hand, a dismissive wave directed to the grunt. He responded with a nod, stepping back and letting the power doors close, before scuttling away, seemingly…afraid?
That was silly, who could be afraid of Handler?
Handler made it feel safe, gave it purpose. It loved Handler, how could anyone fear Handler? Handler simply needed to be obeyed, and it was very good at being obedient!
"My, you've been good, hound".
It was! It nodded, giddy from the wonderful words Handler gave. It was happy it made Handler happy, a good weapon always makes its owner happy after all! Handler's voice was wonderful, deep, firm yet soft. It loved Handler's voice.
"I think you deserve a reward, hound."
It did? It wasn't sure. It wasn't in its place to guess either. It simply gazed up at Handler, head tilted to the side, unsure, waiting, breath unsteady.
Handler raised Her hand, and gave an all too familiar command, wordless, yet deafening. It obeyed.
On your back.
It did so, back against the cold tiles, belly shown to Handler.
Handler raised her boot clad foot, pushing its legs to the side, coming to rest…between them…
It IS being rewarded!
It let out a huff, the divine sensation of Handler's boot pressing up against it, on its-
"You did well today, hound. So many kills, such a good murder dog~"
It thought back to the sortie. Its mech rocking with every step, a feeling that made it feel powerful, useful, yet nowhere near as pleasurable as Handler's boot grinding away at it. It remembered….faces? Saying…something? A name? Calling for a fr-
It blinked, and nothing but Handler's visage was present, nothing but the holy sensation of Handler's boot, drawing and pulling out a wet spot. Drawing and pulling out groans of bliss and pleasure from its lips.
"Hmm, you seem to be going a touch overboard, even with kill confirms. We'll need to teach you more restraint. Later."
Handler pressed down harder, painfully harder. Motes of pain made their way along its body, biting down and releasing venom that simply brought more pleasure to bliss racked mind. It will improve anyway, it always will be its best form.
Time no longer seemed to flow, no. It simply meshed together, a blur mixed and ruined and stretched, painted over with strokes of pleasure and pain biting down, shaded with praise from Handler, and framed with notes from Handler on how it can be an even deadlier weapon to strike. The world ceased to be. It didn't care about the now, the future, the pa-
"Are you ready for me, hound?~"
It nodded eagerly, Handler chose how long reward lasted, but it was so, so thankful for anything. It trusted Handler, it believed in Handler.
Handler was everything.
It let go, breathing wild, gasping in air, shivering from waves of pleasure splashing and caressing over its eager, hungry body.
"Now~", a word. Permission. Approval. Crescendo.
That's all it needed, that's all it seeks, that's how it was trained.
It howled, pleasure peaking, skin burning like a flame, no different from how it pushed its reactors to the brink of melting down, all to please Her. To please… Handler. It reached that peak, riding it, howling, groaning, and whimpering as that addictive, wonderful high faded. Wetness, present in clothing and on the floor, and on Handler's boot.
Handler took a half step back, balancing that boot on its heel, wetness present against it, all from the hound. Handler merely snapped her fingers, and it leapt, eager and ready, tongue getting to work cleaning and polishing Handler's boot.
This was different.
It usually doesn't like different.
But it liked this.
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