The Soldier can’t escape, but he can take advantage of his new position to push his hips against the Captain’s grip, clearly unhappy with the pace. The Captain doesn’t laugh — doesn’t even remember how, barely knows it’s a sound he can make, though the handlers certainly do — but there’s a quirk of his lips and a flash in his eyes that only the Soldier can see, so close, hidden from the cameras and the viewing window by the angle of their heads and the fall of the Soldier’s hair. It’s just as well, really. Any expression past determination on either asset’s face would certainly warrant punishment.
He doesn’t have long to enjoy his victory, though, before the Soldier is moving; not struggling to get away, but grabbing at the Captain’s pants with a sharp tearing sound that almost — but not entirely — masks the harsh, hitched gasp the Captain sucks in as the relatively cooler air of the room hits his heated cock, as the Soldier’s rough hand, just the right size, slides back over and down and around his dick and balls, unhindered now by the annoying fabric any longer. It may not be a moan, exactly, but there’s something on the tail end of the sound that must be close enough, because the next thing he knows, there’s chapped lips pressed against his and his head hits the floor with an explosion of sparks behind his eyes — and he likes it. It’s jarring and painful and there’s an almost angry hitch of the Soldier’s hips against his, as the other fights for what he wants and the Captain refuses to give up the upper hand. As the Captain doesn’t laugh again, but radiates a kind of satisfied smugness even as his lips, for just the briefest instant, yield out of something close to surprise.
But not for long. He bites at the Soldier’s lips in retaliation, tearing at the soft flesh and tasting a sharp little burst of copper on his tongue. It won’t bleed much or long, but it’s enough to smear both their lips with blood as the Captain growls into the Soldier’s mouth, writhing under him but never breaking his hold, never moving away far enough to ever risk losing the Soldier’s hand on his cock. He kisses and bites and sucks like he wants to swallow the Soldier whole and never come up for air. He kisses like it’s a contest — everything between them is — but also like it’s a lifeline and he never wants to let go.
The Soldier’s hips smack against his again, clear wanting in them and the Captain tightens his arm around the other asset’s back, a warning. And yet, kissing like this, with the Soldier’s free hand all over him and making him see sparks long after his head should have cleared from that hit, is making him feel… something. It couldn’t exactly be called generosity. Maybe more like curiosity, as the Captain’s eyes open, too close to the Soldier’s, everything out of focus even as everything in his body feels like it is focused, right now, on the aching, straining place between his legs. On what’s building there. On the way he wants the Soldier to feel it too, to react, to give himself over the Captain without pausing in the way he’s giving the Captain what he wants, too.
His legs slide down now from the Soldier’s waist, the Captain stretching out without giving ground, legs sliding along the Soldier’s inner thighs until he’s got the other asset pinned over him by the ankles, grip still as hard as iron. With both of the laid out, the Captain has the advantage again, bucking and arching off the floor while the Soldier should find it harder to keep up that thrusting. At the same time, though, the Captain’s strokes finally, finally speed up along the Soldier’s cock, fingers gliding easily, slick now with all the precome that’s been drooling over them, coating his hand and his belly. He tilts his head enough, shifts just enough for their lips to part and the kiss dissolve into harsh, panting breaths, that his eyes can focus fully on the Soldier’s, now. His gaze bores into them with a focused attention that demands to know if this reward will be appreciated, or if it will be fought. If he ought to keep going, speeding up ever so slightly with every stroke, starting to aim his hand so that their knuckles bump together every few pulls, cocks inches apart, or if he’s going to have to take away this gift again. If the Soldier will fight him on it. Because whatever this is… the Captain has still got to win.
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He doesn’t have long to enjoy his victory, though, before the Soldier is moving; not struggling to get away, but grabbing at the Captain’s pants with a sharp tearing sound that almost — but not entirely — masks the harsh, hitched gasp the Captain sucks in as the relatively cooler air of the room hits his heated cock, as the Soldier’s rough hand, just the right size, slides back over and down and around his dick and balls, unhindered now by the annoying fabric any longer. It may not be a moan, exactly, but there’s something on the tail end of the sound that must be close enough, because the next thing he knows, there’s chapped lips pressed against his and his head hits the floor with an explosion of sparks behind his eyes — and he likes it. It’s jarring and painful and there’s an almost angry hitch of the Soldier’s hips against his, as the other fights for what he wants and the Captain refuses to give up the upper hand. As the Captain doesn’t laugh again, but radiates a kind of satisfied smugness even as his lips, for just the briefest instant, yield out of something close to surprise.
But not for long. He bites at the Soldier’s lips in retaliation, tearing at the soft flesh and tasting a sharp little burst of copper on his tongue. It won’t bleed much or long, but it’s enough to smear both their lips with blood as the Captain growls into the Soldier’s mouth, writhing under him but never breaking his hold, never moving away far enough to ever risk losing the Soldier’s hand on his cock. He kisses and bites and sucks like he wants to swallow the Soldier whole and never come up for air. He kisses like it’s a contest — everything between them is — but also like it’s a lifeline and he never wants to let go.
The Soldier’s hips smack against his again, clear wanting in them and the Captain tightens his arm around the other asset’s back, a warning. And yet, kissing like this, with the Soldier’s free hand all over him and making him see sparks long after his head should have cleared from that hit, is making him feel… something. It couldn’t exactly be called generosity. Maybe more like curiosity, as the Captain’s eyes open, too close to the Soldier’s, everything out of focus even as everything in his body feels like it is focused, right now, on the aching, straining place between his legs. On what’s building there. On the way he wants the Soldier to feel it too, to react, to give himself over the Captain without pausing in the way he’s giving the Captain what he wants, too.
His legs slide down now from the Soldier’s waist, the Captain stretching out without giving ground, legs sliding along the Soldier’s inner thighs until he’s got the other asset pinned over him by the ankles, grip still as hard as iron. With both of the laid out, the Captain has the advantage again, bucking and arching off the floor while the Soldier should find it harder to keep up that thrusting. At the same time, though, the Captain’s strokes finally, finally speed up along the Soldier’s cock, fingers gliding easily, slick now with all the precome that’s been drooling over them, coating his hand and his belly. He tilts his head enough, shifts just enough for their lips to part and the kiss dissolve into harsh, panting breaths, that his eyes can focus fully on the Soldier’s, now. His gaze bores into them with a focused attention that demands to know if this reward will be appreciated, or if it will be fought. If he ought to keep going, speeding up ever so slightly with every stroke, starting to aim his hand so that their knuckles bump together every few pulls, cocks inches apart, or if he’s going to have to take away this gift again. If the Soldier will fight him on it. Because whatever this is… the Captain has still got to win.