Drabbly stuff
Er. This is random pwp that went a bit of out of control. Enter at own risk, you have been warned, etc. etc. because this is very very not safe for work, or brain too, I suspect. Warning for SM, dark themes, sadistic Sho, NC-17, bad over the top cliche porn with no plot and no point.
...Because I was damn frustrated at work. And I had to vent.
Oh! And this is Sho/Aiba ^__^
Most of his friends hate being drafted into conscription, checking back into military camps every Sunday night, the cacophony rising like a thick chorus to match the thick night air bearing down on their heavy packs.
Not him though, compulsory military service didn't sit that badly with him, though he would never tell anyone either.
Being back in camp meant there was Commander Sho barking orders at them the minute they entered, sadistically savouring every insult he could bestow them, Sho's boot on his back, yelling at him to go lower, that his grandmother could do better, that he was going to get another 100 push-ups as punishment. There was Sho's cock thick and heavy in his mouth, Sho rasping Recruit, hurry up, I haven't got all day, is this the best you can do, that's pathetic, Sho's hand digging into the back of his skull painfully, yanking hair between fingers, muscular grip so tight he couldn't move his head away when Sho came in his mouth, Sho sweating all over him after he came and sneering between heavy panted breaths, that's a good soldier, swallow it, all of it, sweat and tang filling the claustrophobic space of the tiny and dingy toilet cubicle they were locked in. If he choked or teared there was Sho's contemptuous gaze boring down on him, Sho thrusting his cock in his face, commanding, lick it clean, Recruit, or it's down fifty and he could only choke out, Yes Sir, trying not to gag. Sho would bark, I can't hear you! And he would straighten up as much as he could, kneeling on the cold rough ground and yell with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, Yes Sir!
There were the endless extra laps around the field, punishments for the slightest mistakes, and all sorts of imaginary infringements, and when he was done and dead exhausted Sho would pounce in the shower and pin him to the wall, cold water rushing down over them, sending chills down his skin and spine, Sho forcing his mouth open and Sho's tongue rough in his mouth and all teeth and with his wrists pinned above his head it was all he could do to keep upright on buckling knees and let Sho do whatever he wanted. At the end of it Sho would suddenly release his wrists, sore and cold, and let him fall to the ground. He would look up to see Sho's hair plastered to his face, uniform clinging to his body and Sho would smirk, Recruit, seems like you're not fit enough, you need more laps the next time.
The food in the cookhouse was often terrible but hunger was the best condiment. Sho sometimes called him into his private office during mealtimes. There Sho would make him get down on all fours before digging his fingers into the food, smearing some of it out over his fingers before holding them out to him and ordering, suck it off my fingers. And he would suck and lick it all off eagerly, keeping his head carefully down, and sometimes Sho would drop it on the floor and make him lap it all up. If Sho was satisfied he would grant him a half smile, fold his arms and say, not too bad, good dog. I shall reward you now.
Get on the table. Face me.
Take off your pants.
Did I say you could touch your underwear? Follow instructions Recruit!
Now you may take them off.
Open your legs. Wider.
Touch yourself.
Look like you're enjoying it, damnit!
And Sho would stand in front of him with arms folded and watch him jack off, predatory eyes never leaving him for a second, drinking everything in and cold stare drilling straight into him, lips curled up in a smirk. And he would wish Sho would at least say something, even taunts or insults would be better than the silence, amplifying the sounds he made.
You can't come until I give the permission.
Yes Sir!
Beg me, Recruit.
Please Sir! Permission to come!
No.
Sir, please! I can't hold it in any longer!
Did I say you could? You know what happens if you disobey orders, don't you? Do you?
Yes Sir!
What happens?
I get punished, Sir!
Is that what you want, huh, you'll like that don't you.
No Sir! Please don't, Sir! I'll do everything you say.
Very well. You may come now.
Thank you Sir!
When he comes his mind blanks, and feels Sho's hungry eyes watching him intently still.
...Because I was damn frustrated at work. And I had to vent.
Oh! And this is Sho/Aiba ^__^
Most of his friends hate being drafted into conscription, checking back into military camps every Sunday night, the cacophony rising like a thick chorus to match the thick night air bearing down on their heavy packs.
Not him though, compulsory military service didn't sit that badly with him, though he would never tell anyone either.
Being back in camp meant there was Commander Sho barking orders at them the minute they entered, sadistically savouring every insult he could bestow them, Sho's boot on his back, yelling at him to go lower, that his grandmother could do better, that he was going to get another 100 push-ups as punishment. There was Sho's cock thick and heavy in his mouth, Sho rasping Recruit, hurry up, I haven't got all day, is this the best you can do, that's pathetic, Sho's hand digging into the back of his skull painfully, yanking hair between fingers, muscular grip so tight he couldn't move his head away when Sho came in his mouth, Sho sweating all over him after he came and sneering between heavy panted breaths, that's a good soldier, swallow it, all of it, sweat and tang filling the claustrophobic space of the tiny and dingy toilet cubicle they were locked in. If he choked or teared there was Sho's contemptuous gaze boring down on him, Sho thrusting his cock in his face, commanding, lick it clean, Recruit, or it's down fifty and he could only choke out, Yes Sir, trying not to gag. Sho would bark, I can't hear you! And he would straighten up as much as he could, kneeling on the cold rough ground and yell with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, Yes Sir!
There were the endless extra laps around the field, punishments for the slightest mistakes, and all sorts of imaginary infringements, and when he was done and dead exhausted Sho would pounce in the shower and pin him to the wall, cold water rushing down over them, sending chills down his skin and spine, Sho forcing his mouth open and Sho's tongue rough in his mouth and all teeth and with his wrists pinned above his head it was all he could do to keep upright on buckling knees and let Sho do whatever he wanted. At the end of it Sho would suddenly release his wrists, sore and cold, and let him fall to the ground. He would look up to see Sho's hair plastered to his face, uniform clinging to his body and Sho would smirk, Recruit, seems like you're not fit enough, you need more laps the next time.
The food in the cookhouse was often terrible but hunger was the best condiment. Sho sometimes called him into his private office during mealtimes. There Sho would make him get down on all fours before digging his fingers into the food, smearing some of it out over his fingers before holding them out to him and ordering, suck it off my fingers. And he would suck and lick it all off eagerly, keeping his head carefully down, and sometimes Sho would drop it on the floor and make him lap it all up. If Sho was satisfied he would grant him a half smile, fold his arms and say, not too bad, good dog. I shall reward you now.
Get on the table. Face me.
Take off your pants.
Did I say you could touch your underwear? Follow instructions Recruit!
Now you may take them off.
Open your legs. Wider.
Touch yourself.
Look like you're enjoying it, damnit!
And Sho would stand in front of him with arms folded and watch him jack off, predatory eyes never leaving him for a second, drinking everything in and cold stare drilling straight into him, lips curled up in a smirk. And he would wish Sho would at least say something, even taunts or insults would be better than the silence, amplifying the sounds he made.
You can't come until I give the permission.
Yes Sir!
Beg me, Recruit.
Please Sir! Permission to come!
No.
Sir, please! I can't hold it in any longer!
Did I say you could? You know what happens if you disobey orders, don't you? Do you?
Yes Sir!
What happens?
I get punished, Sir!
Is that what you want, huh, you'll like that don't you.
No Sir! Please don't, Sir! I'll do everything you say.
Very well. You may come now.
Thank you Sir!
When he comes his mind blanks, and feels Sho's hungry eyes watching him intently still.