A gay story: Not In This Lifetime Ch. 06 Trigger warnings & Author’s notes
May contain: violence, extreme domination, degradation, sadism, non-consent/coercion, slavery.
Chapter Six: operation eastrun
—————————————-
Officer Symond Welles was at his desk, sitting across from the fidgety man from Wolfpine. The man’s name was Malla Broggs; he was the Wolfpine villager who had previously assisted the royal army in placing security cameras throughout the town. Symond slid a backpack across his desk toward the man.
“You know what I’m going to ask of you.”
Broggs nodded, his nervous energy never dissipating.
“You’ll find multiple tracking devices in there as well. If possible, I’d like you to plant them on the ring leaders. They are small enough they can easily be inserted into the tread of a boot.”
Broggs nodded again. “I think I can manage that.”
Symond glanced at the other man skeptically. It wasn’t that he thought the man incapable, he simply was wary of trusting him after the first stunt he pulled. Symond half expected to lose more of his tech when the man inevitably chickened out again. In the end, he figured the opportunity was worth the risk.
Broggs had reached out to him him a couple of months after he had retracted his initial offer of assistance. When pressed to explain himself, he painted a picture of a messy operation with no long term plan of action. “Boys playing war,” Symond had thought to himself. The entire town of Wolfpine was on edge with the growing rebel presence.
Broggs explained that he, along with the other villagers he had spoken to, wanted the rebels gone and the town to return to normal. There was growing concern that the royal army would target the town as a whole when it came to retaliation — innocent townsfolk and all.
And so Malla Broggs took it upon himself to sneak security cameras back into Wolfpine for officer Welles, making sure to hide one in the community center where the rebels had their meetings. “They meet every Sunday,” he informed the officer before stepping out of the room, backpack in hand.
Things seemed to be looking up for Symond.
—————————————-
Sunday afternoon, Wolfpine.
The community center in Wolfpine was bustling with activity as the rebel soldiers socialized while they waited for the meeting to begin. Eros, Dego, and Bere all sat at the table in the front of the room. They had been talking amongst themselves for the last fifteen minutes or so.
An abrupt, loud whistle brought everyone’s attention up front as Eros stood facing the rebel soldiers. “We have decided to take the town of Kilead.” The room went silent as everyone received this news. This was a major development.
Bere was next to speak.
“I will personally be leading a company Tuesday morning at dawn. We have outgrown our resources in Wolfpine. Scouts have reported that we have an overwhelming amount of support within Kilead. We don’t expect much resistance to our residency there, but we will be prepared to fight should the royal army arrive.”
Eros placed a clipboard on the table. “We have a group of Kilead citizens who have joined our cause stationed over there ready to assist. If you are willing to join the company for this mission, please add your name to the list.”
Symond, now privy to their meetings, was surprised by this bold move. Had their numbers really grown so much in such a short amount of time that this was a feasible plan of action? He could not believe it. Either way, he would be ready to meet them with a company of his own.
—————————————-
Tuesday morning, Kilead.
Symond was stationed outside of Kilead on horseback. He and General Narder had managed to convince king Oppius Domarc to allow him to lead a company of 200 to Kilead to deal with the rebel threat. They had arrived before sunrise, but as the sun crept higher and higher into the sky there was no sign of the intruders.
Symond found himself pacing his horse. He wondered if one of the Kilead rebels had caught wind of them and warned the others. The thought was disappointing to the officer. He had to admit he enjoyed commanding the company, and he hadn’t had the opportunity to do so since he was put on rebel watch. Alas, it was looking as though no great battle would take place today.
Symond pulled out his phone to check on the tracking devices that Broggs had succeeded in planting in the suspected rebel leaders’ boots. He was surprised to see that the map was indicating that all three of them were here in Kilead. But where — where were they? What was their move?
“Hold your positions,” he barked at the company before taking off toward the location of the three tracking devices. The map led him straight into Kilead. Down the street, toward a house, into a chicken yard. Symond looked around. All he saw were chickens. They clucked obliviously and pecked the ground around his feet. He looked from the map to the chickens and back again. Did they…
“Fucking hell,” Symond cursed when he saw a small tracking device attached to the leg of one of the birds. His thoughts were immediately interrupted when he received a call on his phone.
“They’re here, sir. The rebels are at Eastrun.”
The reality of the situation quickly dawned on Symond. He’d been duped. The rebels had lured him away from the base and he had easily fallen for it.
“How many?”
“A small squad of less than ten, sir.”
“Don’t let them escape. Use any means necessary to stop them.” Symond ended the call and stared off into the distance toward Wolfpine. He was absolutely livid.
—————————————-
Tuesday morning, Eastrun.
This mission had gone horribly wrong. It had gone well until an explosive landed near the small group of rebels, knocking them off their feet. Luckily it hadn’t been a direct hit, but Mile still grimaced as he found himself on his back, rubble raining down upon him from the sky. He grunted and propped himself up. Cerys and the others were further up ahead, picking themselves up as well. Cerys looked back at him.
“Don’t stop — Get it home!”
Mile watched Cerys hesitate for a moment but then he turned on his heel and fled the scene. They had secured, among other things, the stationed officer’s laptop, and both men knew their top priority was to get it to safety. Cerys knew Mile was capable of taking care of himself. But, gods, was he capable? That blast hurt like hell. His ears were still ringing. He grimaced as he struggled to stand.
“Walk it off, Mile,” he murmured to himself as he started to follow after the others. More explosives rang out in the distance, the air was thick with clouds of dust and dirt. Mile buried his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow to keep from breathing it in as he struggled to see in front of him. An eerie siren wailed in the distance, no doubt warning the rest of the royal army that their base had been infiltrated. The rebels had not known that the small base was so abundantly manned — in fact they were counting on the fact that is was not, as had always been the case in the past. Mile felt entirely responsible for putting them in harm’s way. Had they known, they would not have acted so brazenly, but here they were, and they had actually managed to achieve their objective. At least, so far.
“This is actually really bad,” Mile thought as he stumbled along. He wasn’t sure he was even going the right way anymore, he had lost his watch at some point in the madness, and thus couldn’t rely on the compass feature. He had been meaning to fix that loose band buckle. Stupid.
He hurried along for what seemed like way too long, and realized he was going to have to stop moving until the explosions stopped and the air cleared up. It was just a small group of them, this seemed like overkill — surely they hadn’t yet figured out what the rebels had taken. He looked for somewhere to hunker down, eventually finding a ditch and hopping down into it, pressing his back against the cool earth.
This was a very vulnerable spot to be in, enemy soldiers would no doubt be scouring the area for them once they got their fill of shooting explosives. He would have to leave as soon as he could. The minutes seemed to drag on forever as he sat in that ditch. He thought about how the situation came to be.
It had been two months since Mile had accidentally discovered the enemy soldier on the outskirts of Wolfpine. Of course he didn’t know it at the time, but the rebels would later identify him as Officer Symond Welles.
“It seems we have their attention now,” Eros had said when informed of Mile’s encounter. He decided they needed to amp up their defense and have a patrol team around the village. “Something we should have already been doing,” he admitted.
“Send me to Eastrun,” Mile had implored, and the three rebel leaders plus Cerys looked at him in surprise. “I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. The base in Eastrun is a small operation with a single soldier or possibly two stationed. I know that it has also been used as a storage facility in the past. If we can sneak in before the royal army realizes we are a threat, we can acquire some easy technology. We might not have another opportunity like this and I truly believe we should seize it.” All eyes were on Mile. He continued. “I know you can’t trust me yet — I am willing to do this alone.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment and then Eros spoke.
“You’re right that we can’t trust you. But you make an interesting argument and I think it might be worth the risk. However, I can’t in good conscience send a single man to do the job.”
“I’ll go with him,” Cerys immediately offered.
“You trust him?” Bere inquired, cocking his head slightly.
“I really do.”
Mile couldn’t stop the grin that crept across his face at Cerys’ quick response. He owed the man so much.
“I do, as well.”
Everyone turned to look at Dego. Bere looked shocked.
“You… you do? Since when?”
Dego grinned. “What? We had a heart to heart.” He winked at Mile.
Oh, is that what he was calling it.
“Okay…” Eros, usually fairly deadpan, couldn’t hide his surprise at this development. “Well that’s unexpected.” He looked at Mile and Cerys. “Alright. If you can find at least one other who is willing to assist you, then you’ve got yourselves a mission.”
In the end, a number of people had jumped at the chance to join the operation. The rebellion had been laying low since claiming Wolfpine, and it seemed that people were eager for action. Mile and Cerys selected two others, a quiet young man from up North named Fila, and an older gentleman; a fellow former soldier of the royal army named Ament.
Mile had a plan, but there were lots of moving parts and it would take multiple people to pull off.
At long last, it seemed like the final explosion had sounded and the air began to calm around Mile. Even the siren had stopped. Now there was eerie silence. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Mile hoisted himself out of the ditch and surveyed his surroundings. The air was still thick with dust, but he could make out the mountains looming in the distance.
“Perfect,” he thought, and began to run in that direction. The war-field opened up into wilderness and he was home free.
—————————————-
Saturday evening, Wolfpine.
“Why do you need to go out?” Mile demanded.
Cerys grinned at him. “Come on, you know you want to! We deserve to celebrate, we accomplished something major this week. First active mission since Operation: Wolfpine!”
“It’s stupid — it’s not safe,” Mile retorted.
“Look, Ezaros is a neutral zone. If anyone starts anything, the citizens will put a stop to it immediately. No uniformed soldiers are welcome. We’re all just regular folk there.”
Mile sighed. “I am recognizable. What if –”
Cerys interrupted him. “Don’t worry so much! You’re less recognizable now. Your hair is different and you look like shit,” he winked. “Plus you’ve been working on that accent of yours. You blend in better.”
Mile sighed again. Cerys was being generous with his comment about his accent. He was working on it, but it was difficult to force himself to speak another way, and he forgot to half the time anyway.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Yes you do.”
Mile scowled at his friend and fellow soldier. He couldn’t deny that a night out did sound nice. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to have fun, and the stress of the mission had been intense.
“I don’t know, Cerys.”
“It’s gonna be okay, Mile. I promise. We’ll stay together in case something happens, but it won’t.”
Mile let out a final exasperated sigh and simply nodded his head at Cerys. He would just have to stay vigilant and keep his wits about him.
—————————————-
Saturday night, the town of Ezaros.
Mile sat alone at a table in the club, nursing his second drink and watching his friend flirt with various women on the dance floor. This was definitely not what he had signed up for, but he couldn’t help but feel amused as the redhead started making out with a stranger. In retrospect, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the behavior; Cerys was always flirting with the women in Wolfbane; rebels and villagers alike. The alcohol just amplified it.
Mile picked up his drink and took another swig. He was actually feeling tipsy, when had he become such a lightweight? It had been almost a year since he’d last had an alcoholic beverage, he realized. Joining the rebellion had kept him busy. He hadn’t even been missing it, but he had to admit that this was enjoyable. Mile sighed and relaxed further into his chair. He closed his eyes, the music and chatter around him becoming one dull roar in his ears.
“Mind if I sit?” A deep voice pulled him out of his relaxed trance.
That voice…
Mile opened his eyes and looked up to see Officer Welles gazing down at him. He gasped and jumped to his feet, the clanging of his chair against the concrete floor of the club reverberating loudly. The group of people nearest to them turned to see what was happening, but the music was loud enough that the sudden noise went unnoticed by most. Mile stood there and stared at the officer, stunned.
Symond smirked at the reaction of the young rebel. So he remembered him. Good. He motioned to Mile’s chair. “Don’t let me interrupt your relaxing evening. Please, sit.” Symond sat in the chair opposite him. Mile blinked and came back to his senses. Neutral zone… right? Cerys had said the entire town was. He looked around for Cerys. The other man was nowhere to be seen now. Probably fucking that stranger in the bathroom, Mile thought, suddenly annoyed with his friend.
“Sit,” came the voice again, more insistent this time. Mile frowned but felt compelled to obey the officer’s command. It must’ve been his time in the royal army, he thought bitterly, annoyed at how deeply the conditioning was drilled into him. He slowly sat back down into his chair and stared at the intimidating figure before him. If the man intended to arrest him, Mile would be safer in this club amongst all these people.
“What are you having?” Symond eyed the remainder of what was in Mile’s glass. “Whiskey on the rocks? Not messing around tonight, are we?” He beckoned a waitress over and ordered two more. Then he sat back, his left arm outstretched languidly over the back of his chair. Mile watched him warily. What was his game?
The older man smiled at the rebel’s obvious discomfort and observed him overtly. The awkward silence was deafening, but Mile found he had no words. They sat in silence, staring at each other until the waitress returned with the drinks and seemed to break the spell. She sat the first in front of Symond and the second in front of Mile. Symond thanked her and placed the glass against his lips, sampling the whiskey.
“Not bad. I hear the distillery is in this very town.”
Mile blinked and unconsciously looked down at his glass.
“I didn’t poison it, Mile.” Symond took another sip of his own drink.
“Why are you here?” Mile finally managed to get out.
“My buddy over there just got promoted. Wanted to celebrate.” He nodded toward a table to a burly, bearded man that was very clearly not on his first drink. He was creating a ruckus amongst the group of people around him, all of them laughing uproariously at whatever he had said.
“Where’s your friend?”
Mile frowned. How long had the officer been here, watching him? He hadn’t even noticed the other man — he felt like a fool.
“Around,” he replied, trying to sound unbothered.
Symond’s smirk returned. “Uh huh…” he took another sip. Mile looked away and unconsciously took a long drink from his glass. This was decidedly not a fun time. He was going to kill Cerys if he made it out of this.
“You have been working hard.”
Mile glanced at him and took another drink, refusing to engage. Symond continued, unperturbed. “You look as though you’ve gained quite a bit of muscle since our last encounter.”
No response. Symond, determined to get a rise out of the young rebel, took another drink from his glass before asking, “busy last Tuesday?”
Asshole. Mile visibly tensed in his chair, his lower jaw taut, and placed his glass on the table a little too loudly.
“Thought so.” Symond reached into his pants pocket and pulled something out and tossed it over the table to him. Mile fumbled with it briefly before getting ahold of it. He frowned as he looked at his lost watch. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
Ryfrid, a fellow soldier, and a brilliant one at that, had taken many measures to secure all of their technology, so it was highly unlikely that the officer had managed to break into it and access his information since tuesday. But it was an expensive, top of the line watch that he’d had before joining the rebellion. It was not likely that another rebel soldier would have anything remotely similar.
“You’ll want to get rid of that, it’s been bugged.” Symond winked.
The fuck was this man’s game? Mile hated that the other man was blatantly toying with him. He sighed and placed the watch on the table before taking another swig of his drink. Symond followed suit, never taking his eyes off the rebel. Mile felt like a prey animal about to be devoured by a predator.
So why did he feel a growing sense of excitement? Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he couldn’t help but admire the older soldier. Symond was not a bad looking man by any means. Mile guessed that he was in his mid to late thirties. He was upwards of six foot tall, and well built. He had long, dirty blonde hair he kept in a bun on his head. His facial hair was kept short and neatly trimmed. He had such a relaxed demeanor about him, Mile wondered if they might have gotten along had he remained in the army. Mile raised his glass to his lips, and then realized he’d finished the drink. He placed the glass back on the table.
Symond noticed as well, and finished off his own before standing suddenly. “Come.”
Mile blinked and looked up at him. “What?”
“Get up. Let’s go.”
He frowned, not appreciating being ordered around.
“Why would I — I– Absolutely not.” Mile sat firmly in his chair, flustered. He would be an idiot to go anywhere with this man — this man that served his father and had made it clear in the past that he’d eagerly send Mile back to the tyrant king per his orders.
Symond grinned at him. It wasn’t the taunting smirk Mile was quickly becoming accustomed to, it came off as a genuinely friendly and playful grin, and gave the officer a boyish charm he had never seen from him before. It was decidedly the most adorable thing Mile had ever seen, and he felt his heart skip a beat.
Symond took advantage of Mile being caught off guard and pulled him to his feet.
“C’mon.” Symond ushered him through the crowd and Mile found that he was helpless to stop himself from trailing behind the other man like a moth to a flame.
This is crazy. I’m an idiot. I’m about to be arrested or murdered in the streets.
They made it to a stretch of secluded hallway and before Mile could take in his surroundings, Symond had slammed him into the wall, pinning him up against it. Mile gasped at the sudden rough treatment and looked up at the officer, anxiety creeping over him once again. The man gazed down upon him with a deadpan expression.
“You really fucked up, Domarc. Your latest stunt has me in a bind. The king is livid.” He paused, before adding, “the only silver lining is that he has completely forsaken you as his son.”
Mile stared up at Symond, not following.
The other man shook his head, never letting up on his grip on the rebel’s arms. “It’s not out just yet, but you are now a wanted man. Dead or alive.” Mile winced, the man’s fingers digging into his arms painfully. Symond reached down with one hand to grasp his jaw, forcing the other to look directly into his face.
“You know what that means, Domarc?” The cold spike of dread surged up Mile’s spine. He struggled against the older man in vain. “It means you’re fair game.”
Symond leaned down and captured Mile’s lips in a rough kiss. Mile stiffened in surprise and tried to push the man away so he could flee. He felt very unsafe. Symond had a firm hold on him and never broke the kiss, smashing his lips aggressively against the other’s mouth, his tongue exploring extensively.
He rested one hand on Mile’s hip, the other still pinning his left arm to the wall, and pressed his body up against Mile, grinding his hips into the other’s. Mile groaned into the older man’s mouth. The kiss was invasive and powerful — much like the man himself. Mile mustered up all his strength and threw a punch at the other to the best of his ability with one side of his body being held in place. Symond stumbled back slightly and raised an eyebrow.
“Very nice… You’re stronger than last time.” Mile thought he almost sounded pleased. “You’re going to have to work harder, though.” With that, he winked and returned the punch, hitting Mile in the stomach. Mile grunted and fell to his knees, the wind having been knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Symond pulled him to his feet again.
“You want to keep fighting?”
“Fuck you,” Mile sputtered, now fraught with hostility. “Piece of shit –”
Symond smacked him across the face.
“Fucking –”
He smacked him again, harder this time. Mile groaned and desperately tried to pull away.
“Stop fighting.”
“Fuck you.”
Symond backhanded him across the face. Mile whimpered and slumped against the wall.
“You done?”
“Piss off.”
Symond sighed and punched him in the stomach again. Mile grunted in pain and fell forward, his hands and knees hitting the cool floor beneath him. He stayed there, panting and attempting to catch his breath at the other man’s feet. Symond kneeled on one knee in front of him.
“Done?”
After a moment, Mile gave a single nod. He couldn’t take anymore.
“Oh, good.”
Symond grabbed his jaw again, craning his head upward, and captured his lips in another kiss. Mile didn’t struggle this time. He gazed at the other’s face through half lidded eyes and tried to recover from the onslaught he had just experienced. After a moment Symond pulled away, much to Mile’s relief; his neck was beginning to ache from the extreme angle.
“Good boy,” he patted Mile’s cheek. “You did well, baby.” Mile was annoyed to find himself blushing at the bizarre show of affection the older man was suddenly bestowing upon him — and right after the beating he gave him. This was turning into a mindfuck.
Symond smiled at the quizzical look on the rebel’s face. He himself wasn’t sure what the praise was for exactly — withstanding the beating he dished out, or perhaps managing to steal his goddamn laptop right out from under his nose last tuesday. Perhaps both. Symond was impressed with him. He was also annoyed as all hell, but impressed nonetheless. He stood and offered a hand to Mile.
“Come.”
Mile ignored the gesture and struggled to his feet. Once upright, Symond grabbed his wrist and led him the rest of the way down the hall. They came to a door, which the officer opened and they stepped out into the crisp night.
“Oh…” Mile hadn’t even realized how hot it had gotten in the club. The cool air on his hot and freshly bruised skin felt amazing. He blinked a few times, his eyes straining to adjust to the darkness. Once they had, he gazed up at the sky, admiring the sea of stars above. Wishing he was anywhere but here. Symond, confident that Mile wouldn’t try to run again, let go of his wrist to light up a cigarette. He looked at Mile, and followed his gaze up to the sky.
“I’ve always loved how many stars you can see from out here versus in the city,” he mused. He took another drag, then offered the cigarette to Mile. Mile paused for a moment but then accepted it from him and took a drag from it before handing it back. He realized that if he was to be arrested tonight, it might be one of the last pleasures he would ever experience. Symond smiled and took another drag before flicking it onto the ground and smashing it out. Then he turned to face Mile.
“Domarc.”
Mile swallowed hard and found himself shrinking back from the menacing officer. The man knew how to make him feel small. Symond had him backed up against the wall of the building. He reached out and tenderly stroked his hair.
“I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
Mile blinked in surprise at the bluntness of the man. Before he could reply, Symond was pushing him to the ground and unbuckling his pants. Mile grunted when he hit the ground, inwardly cursing him for being so aggressive. Symond jerked Mile’s pants down to his knees and turned him onto his stomach. Mile heard the rustling of the other man’s pants sliding off his hips and he tried to prepare himself for what was about to come.
“So tell me, Domarc,” Symond began as he tugged Mile’s boxers down to join the pants that had bunched around his knees. “Which one of them sent you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Believe me when I say I intend to cut off the head of the snake — but first I need to pinpoint who exactly of the three that is. It’s Thiled — he sent you on the mission, did he not?”
Mile laughed despite himself. “It was all me, officer Welles.” Symond stopped moving to look at him. Mile continued. “I coordinated the entire thing. I recruited Malla Broggs to offer his assistance to you again knowing that you’d have him place one of your cameras in our headquarters. I convinced Eros and Bere to pitch a fake takeover of Kilead to lure you away from the Eastrun base. And then I personally infiltrated your base and stole your technology. I wasn’t expecting the amount of soldiers you had stationed there, and I still succeeded.”
Symond stared at the back of Mile’s head in nonplussed silence. After a few moments he snaked an arm under Mile’s stomach and leaned over his back to speak directly into his ear.
“You are incredibly smug considering the position I have you in.”
The officer wasted no more time. Mile gasped when he felt the man roughly spreading his cheeks and the head of his cock pressing up against his asshole, adding pressure to the tight ring already. He tensed and felt a pang of panic when he realized he wasn’t planning on using any sort of lube. Symond spoke quietly, “this is not going to feel good for you.”
Mile bit the inside of his bottom lip but was unable to stifle a small, anxious whimper. The officer paused briefly before seemingly deciding to take a small measure of pity on him, and spit in his hand a few times before smearing it on the head of his cock. He pulled Mile’s hips back a bit while holding his rock-hard cock steady and then impaled himself fully with one vigorous thrust. Mile screamed at the forced entry that felt as though it had torn his sphincter in two — and then was immediately followed by burning friction from the lack of lube and preparation. Symond clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise.
Mile tried to scramble away from the other man, but Symond leaned back over him, placing his forearm horizontally across his shoulder blades and driving his weight down onto him. Mile found his torso pinned to the the ground, face pressing into the hard concrete below. Symond had his other arm securely under his stomach, holding his hips up. He immediately began thrusting into him, again and again. The young man’s body felt amazing around him, and it had been such a long time since he allowed himself the pleasure of another. The pleasure was all the more sweet since he was able to unload his frustrations into the very person who had caused them.
Mile’s experience was the opposite of Symond’s. It was certainly not good, as the older man had promised it wouldn’t be. The dry fuck was agonizing, and the officer’s thrusts were aggressive as he sought his release. Symond was making it very clear that this was not about sex — Mile was being punished for his transgressions.
“You piece of shit,” the man growled into his ear as he mercilessly fucked his ass. “You know how far back you’ve set me?”
He pushed up from where he had been pinning Mile’s back, and tightly grasped a fistful of hair at the base of his skull, craning his head to the side so he could see his face.
“How foolish and weak you’ve made me look?”
Symond spit in Mile’s face, the wad of saliva landing right between his eyes. Mile gasped and flinched in surprise.
“You want to be an enemy of the kingdom so fucking bad? Then I’ll treat you as such.” Another wad of spit landed just under his eye.
“Fucking — treacherous — lowlife — scum.” He seemed to punctuate each word with a rough thrust of his hips. He placed a hand on the back of Mile’s head, holding his face into the ground as he took him. “How does it feel,” he growled, “to have eight inches of man buried in your guts, you worthless fucking rebel whore?”
Mile whimpered. He didn’t know if it was from blood or precum and he was honestly afraid to think too hard about that, but the other man was sliding in with much less resistance now, and he couldn’t help but begin to enjoy the fullness inside of him.
Symond felt the younger man’s body start to relax beneath him despite his rough treatment and virulent words, and he reached underneath Mile and grasped his shaft. He smirked against the back of Mile’s neck when he felt how hard the younger man was.
“Well now,” Symond commented, “how am I supposed to teach you a lesson about respect when you enjoy my methods of discipline so much?” He leaned down and kissed along Mile’s jawline before lowering his mouth to just under his jaw and biting him hard, a small bruise forming almost immediately. Mile gasped at the sharp pain and clenched his eyes shut.
“You’re a fucking disgrace. An embarrassment of a royal; an embarrassment of a soldier.”
Mile’s lower jaw tensed. “Fuck you.”
Without warning, Symond pulled out of him and flipped him onto his back effortlessly. Mile let out a surprised grunt when he landed on his back, immediately followed by a cry of pain as Symond’s palm connected with his cheek. Symond yanked Mile’s pants and boxers off the rest of the way and spread his legs, raising one ankle to rest against his shoulder, and hiking his hips up before guiding his erection back into Mile’s abused hole. Mile winced at the reentry, his insides now swollen and sore from the previous pummeling, and he struggled to re-accommodate the man’s girth. He threw his head back at the biting pain and pressed both hands up against the officer’s navel in an effort to deny the man further entry.
“Please,” Mile gasped out through gritted teeth. “Hurts.”
“Good.”
Symond gazed down at Mile’s pained expression as he pushed through the resistance and reestablished his rhythm. He took a moment to admire the looks of the man beneath him. Mile had gotten a haircut since they had last crossed paths — his dark brown hair now shorter at the back but a mess of longer curly fringe remaining atop his head. The facial resemblance to his father and older brother was striking. The Domarc genes were strong.
He couldn’t believe he was hate-fucking one of the sons of the king. The thought brought Symond so close to the edge. It was truly a shame that he would have to dispense of him one way or another, but the young man had made his bed by crossing his father.
Symond snaked a hand down to Mile’s throat before grasping it tightly, causing the other to gasp in surprise. He squeezed even tighter, closing off his windpipe. When Mile realized he could no longer breathe, he began to struggle beneath the other man. Symond thrust deeply into the rebel, enjoying the look of anxiety in his eyes as he deprived him of air. Mile grasped at the hand around his throat, desperately trying to pull it off of him. The other made no indication that he would let up. Mile began to panic as he felt lightheaded from the oxygen deprivation.
At last Symond released his grip on the young man’s airway and Mile took in a shaky, gasping breath. Symond smacked his face before he had time to recover, and then again.
Mile was taking Symond’s brutality like a champ, as the officer was learning to expect from him. The young rebel’s face was twisted in pain, but he was glaring up at Symond defiantly. Symond enjoyed how much fight he had in him. Anyone else surely would have stopped fighting much sooner in self preservation. Symond wasn’t sure if that was stupidity from being raised privileged, bravery, or just indifference on the part of Mile, but my god the obstinate little shit turned him on. And despite his resistance, Mile certainly didn’t seem too opposed to the officer’s manhandling of him. His body betrayed him.
Symond finally slowed his thrusts, wanting to prolong the experience. It had been way too long since it’d been this good, he wanted to relish it. The head of his cock suddenly hit Mile’s prostate, causing the other man to gasp and his cock to jump. The officer noticed this and continued the slow, deep thrusts, intentionally rubbing against his prostate. Mile finally broke his death glare to clench his eyes shut and moan. He reached up with one hand, grasping Symond’s bicep to steady himself. He had had no idea that sex with a man could feel so good.
“Oh fuck,” Mile practically whispered, his throat both parched from thirst and sore from the earlier strangulation.
“Heh, there we go.”
Symond kept the pace, staring down at the rebel through half lidded eyes, admiring his face as he experienced pure ecstasy from the way the officer moved inside of him. Symond hadn’t intended to pleasure the other — the fact that the young royal was getting off on being dominated and roughed up had come as a bit of a surprise — but Symond found that he enjoyed watching the younger man lose himself in the pleasure he inflicted.
Eventually he started picking up speed again, tightly holding his body against the figure beneath him, pressing his legs up against his chest as they derived pleasure from each other. Mile reached up now with both hands and grasped the older man’s sides, desperate for something to cling to as the pressure in his loins grew with each thrust against his prostrate. Symond couldn’t help but smile at this. He snaked an arm under the small of Mile’s back and pulled him somehow even closer to himself.
Symond felt his orgasm building as he continued his thrusts into Mile.
“You feel so fucking good,” he panted into the other’s ear. Then he closed his eyes and let out a guttural moan as his orgasm washed over him, flooding the other man’s insides with his seed. Mile reached down between them to grasp his own aching cock, but Symond quickly swatted his hand away.
“No.”
Mile raised an eyebrow indignantly and again tried to grab himself. The officer grabbed his wrist roughly, pinning it above his head, causing the younger man to wince.
“I said no.” Symond wanted to leave the rebel unsatisfied and hungry for more. If he couldn’t punish the younger man with pain and domination, he would have to try something else, and this seemed fitting.
Both men were breathing heavily as they lay there, Symond still recovering from his orgasm, and Mile still desperate for his own release. Finally, Symond extracted himself from the other, Mile grunting slightly at the sensation and feeling of loss. His cock was still painfully hard. Symond stood, pulling up his boxers and pants and tucking himself away. He gazed down at Mile the entire time. Once he had fastened his pants and belt, he gently nudged Mile with his boot and spoke.
“Pull yourself together, Domarc.”
Mile opened his eyes and looked up at him warily, unsure of what to expect from the other at this point. Symond noticed his hesitation and added, “this is a neutral zone. I have no intention of arresting you. I am not a monster,” he said with a wink.
Mile raised his eyebrows incredulously, clearly recalling the beating he had just taken. Symond grinned at his expression and squatted down as Mile propped himself up. He grabbed the younger man’s chin and turned his face to the side, observing the bruise that had formed there.
“You bruise easily.” He gently stroked the area with his thumb. Mile frowned.
“You hit hard.”
The officer laughed a little and Mile thought he actually looked a bit apologetic.
“I’d say maybe it will teach you to obey more readily and drop the attitude, but I hope for your sake we never meet again. If we do, I’m afraid things will go very differently.” Mile pulled his head away from Symond’s hand and started to stand, reaching for his discarded clothes. Symond stood as well and observed the other as he stepped into his boxers and pants.
“Make yourself scarce, Domarc. I don’t want to see or hear word of your existence around here. This is a neutral zone, but you will find that not everyone is as willing to respect that as I am.” Mile turned to leave before Symond grabbed his wrist.
“Hey.”
Mile stopped moving and looked at the other man, worried he had changed his mind about letting him leave. Symond stepped forward, pulling Mile close to him and cupped his face, causing the other man to blush furiously at the sudden intimacy.
“You’re a really good boy. It’s a shame.” Symond smiled remorsefully and patted his face before gently pushing him away.
“Get out of here.”
—————————————-
Mile laid on his back in the dark following his second encounter with Symond Welles. He kept replaying the scene in his mind as he lay on the small cot in the crowded living space that had become his home. His fellow rebel soldiers in the cots nearby were sleeping, and Mile had promptly jerked himself to completion upon arriving home. Even so, he couldn’t stop thinking about the officer and the brutality he had inflicted that was juxtaposed but evenly matched by the tender affection he provided. Mile was intrigued by the man, and sleep didn’t come easily that night. Cerys stumbled in during the wee hours of the morning and fumbled himself into the cot closest to Mile’s and they slept.
That morning, Mile awoke to the red headed man shaking him from his slumber.
“Yo — the fuck happened to you?”
Cerys was standing above him looking concerned, and poked at the bruise on Mile’s cheek. Mile grunted and swatted his friend’s hand away before pushing himself upright to sit on the edge of his cot. He rubbed his eyes and his thoughts went back to the night before.
“Seriously Mile, what the fuck happened?” Mile sighed and looked at his friend.
“Cerys, is there something about me that makes people want to beat the shit out of me?” Cerys looked taken aback for a moment before laughing.
“Are you serious? Are you seriously asking me that — because I don’t think you want to know the answer.” Mile groaned. “Did Dego do this to you?” Cerys pressed.
Mile shook his head. “I ran into officer Symond Welles at the club last night.”
“Whooooaa…” Cerys looked floored.
“As you can see, he knows it was us and he’s not happy about it.” Cerys paused to consider this piece of information.
“But he let you go — he respected the neutral zone? Or did people have to interfere?”
“He said he would respect it, but that others might not.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Mile. I shouldn’t have pressured you to go.” Mile nodded solemnly.
“I am tired of finding myself in situations like that when it’s totally avoidable. It’s time for me to get serious.” Cerys gave a quick nod and looked at Mile for a long moment.
“To answer your question,” he finally said, “you are very expressive with your face. If you hear something you don’t like, it shows — yes, like that!” Cerys laughed and pointed to the scowl that crossed Mile’s features. “Coupled with your noble upbringing, you really just come off as abrasive and unfriendly. And judge-y.” He smiled apologetically at Mile. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve come a long way since you first joined.”
Mile sighed and slumped in his cot. He mentally added “work on establishing poker face” to the list of things he needed to do in order to be successful.
Yes, it was time to get serious.
[zilla_likes]