Chapter Text
Kidnappings were not that uncommon. Sure, they didn’t happen as often as some of the ridiculous B-plots in k-dramas, but they did happen occasionally. Whether it be for interrogation purposes, ransom money or simple hostage leverage, there would be a separate dispatch team to deal with those types of cases, special units. Search and rescue, kind of deal. Either way, the fact stands that military operators don't typically get kidnapped. More specifically, Operators of the KorTac Division don’t get kidnapped, they usually do the kidnapping. For the most part-
And yet, Horangi finds himself stripped of all gear and weapons, left in his tactical pants and the black T-shirt he threw on this morning. Besides the hood his captors threw on his head, they were nice enough to keep his boots and gloves on, it would have been cold otherwise. He did miss his tube scarf though, the scars decorating his face felt a bit exposed without it. Not that he minded the cold, The Tiger has had his fair share of sleeping on concrete and rocky-roads, not to mention being able to sleep in any position when missions go on for long. The small hostage cell he was contained in didn’t seem too bad, at least he was protected against the elements.
Horangi’s arms were cuffed above his head, zippers tied around an old chain-hoop on the wall. The finger-feel of the wall gave him the same texture as the rocks from earlier. It has the same sandy touch as the ground his boots had landed on that morning, noted from when he did surroundings check with Stiletto. It was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission, two teams of five and a single oversight to make it all fall apart. The airlocks weren't really a place to check for hostile activity, and when the gas hit both Alpha and Bravo, it all went downhill.
That gas, what was it? It took out half the units in a few moments. Why were some unaffected? The Soldier recalls taking chase, but how he got knocked out remained hazy. What happened before he woke up…
Horangi instinctively tuned into the jangle of his cell door opening. Faint shadows casting over his hood revealed the hallway to be much more lit than whatever he had been dwelling in. Two sets of boots approached, one being kicked to the floor with a thud and zipped to the wall across The Tiger. The room was narrow enough for him to reach the other person when they sat down, so he retracted his legs to avoid landing in the crossfire.
“Have fun with whatever is going to happen. I’ll come back later, so don’t do anything funny.”
The captor said, and slammed the door with a heavy lock. Moments passed and silence settled before Horangi mustered up the courage to stretch out his legs again, only to tap against whoever was tied across from him.
“Hello?” Horangi attempted softly.
“It’s me…” The man huffed. “Guten Morgen, you… scared me for a second...”
The stranger grunted in pain before Horangi recognized the voice and relaxed. Of course, he was tackling König to the ground before a missile could hit them both on target site. Some of the debris had hit Horangi in the head and knocked him right out. Leaning his temples to one of his raised arms with a hiss confirmed that he indeed hit his head really bad.
“Thank god. König, what happened?”
“I got apprehended, and we got dragged here.”
“You think you can give me a status report?”
“You were out cold, so were Conor and Roze… I–Ugh! …I think.” König grunted and sighed heavily. “Maybe… Maybe forty-five minutes away from site. Exfil knows… but… They need to be looking– Looking for us. The… um– There are three decks, we are on the second. Allies number: Unknown. Opposing number: too many. Russian. Uh..mmm- Research facility, presumably bioTech. ”
Horangi liked the professional side of The Soldier. He talked much more confidently when it was work and call-outs related. His radio was always sparking alive when his keen eye was on overwatch. König’s accent would shine through his otherwise perfect English whenever he got angry, and would completely switch over to German when he was overwhelmed. It was… kind of cute? But also terrifying to witness during combat. It put a smile on Horangi’s lips to hear that his squad mate was doing somewhat fine, and cognitively available. But right now, Horangi’s ears picked up on… distress? How slightly uncomfortable or bloated his partner sounded through the muffle of their hoods.
“Are you okay, friend?” Horangi spoke up and received little to no response. Besides a few heavy breaths and slow shifting, the taller man kept quiet. “You don’t… sound good. What happened?”
“They… ugh… experiment. Along the lines of free test subjects. I-I dont know… They pumped my neck wh– Scheiße!”
Horangi’s foot grazed passed something in which made his partner wince away. His heavy breathing was forced down and controlled in moments, but he lost the battle and groaned involuntarily.
“Es tut mir leid… Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Horangi listened carefully to the man softly bite his moans back. “Status report on… you?”
König took a moment to sit up straight and closer to the wall– rather, further away from his partner. Something stirred inside Horangi, imagining how König would wriggle in place, tied up like him to match. They were not strangers to touch, finding their limbs often entangled when they were relaxing with a good show on the screen. More often than not, they would just sleep next to each other on duty when beds weren't accessible. But he knew König needed his space, so he didn't pry, or ask. Anywhere Horangi placed his legs would just get a reaction out of the Austrian, so he sat still with limited movement.
“...Clear check.” König muttered.
“You don’t sound clear. Be honest, I need you to focus, so we can put our heads together and find a way out. Exfil is going to take a long time, and until then I need to guarantee that we make it out alive. I want to help if I can, okay?”
“...Don’t laugh.”
“I will not.”
König sighed heavily once again and let his voice shiver.
“A lot of… heat. Sweating, no signs of a fever, discomfort, nausea, and my–”
“--Vomiting?”
“Negative. My… body is very… excited.”
Horangi tilted his head to the side and pondered.
“Aroused?”
“D-don’t say it like that…”
“If I'm going to “medic” properly, I kinda have to say it.” Horangi stated and was dismissed audibly. It made him scoff. “Pain?”
König made rustling noises from side to side. “Discomfort. Neck itches from where they injected the syringe.”
Horangi honed in and tried listening to other audio cues surrounding the room. Any guards passing by, the presence of a glass window with the wind knocking on its panes from the outside, or the presence of other prisoners. König groaning deeply and cursing under his breath was everything the air could fill, painfully trying to stay quiet. His breathing caught in pace, like a panicked struggle. He was sliding back into place and accidentally tapped Horangi under his foot again.
“Es tut mi–”
“--Hey, listen. Breath, okay?” He demonstrated deep in- and ex-hales. “It’s going to be fine, we will get that shit out of you and bail this fuckhole, okay? Slow and easy, one problem at the time, and we can do this. No more thinking, only do, yeah?”
A burning gaze fell upon Horangi as he patiently waited for confirmation. His breathing was calmed and the rushed rustling ceased. König was always obedient and good at following orders, as well as reporting, but it was often more difficult to get straight answers from the man himself. How he felt, what he needed, plain opinions, a lot of encouragement and reassurance was required, or you would spend ages walking in circle to figure his thick skull out. Horangi knew being overly forward with the man was the optimal approach to success, to spell the picture out.
“Neither of us need to die in this dump. So if I help you out, will you stay focused with me?”
The sound of repeated rustle echoed between them, before correcting it with an “Affirmative, sir.”
“Good, man. Now, where are my legs located, because I really can't see under this bag. And I'm limited to what I can do.”
“Your left foot is between my legs, sir. Close contact.”
Horangi shuffled closer until his flat sole was flushed against something semi-hard, squishy upon applying pressure. König drew a sharp gasp before bleeding into drowned moans and soft huffs.
“If you are aware of what I'm about to do, I want you to confirm and start taking deep breaths.” Horangi ordered and began applying light pressure when he was given the go.
The texture of his sole must have felt great and relieved a lot of pressure off König, because he eagerly leaned into the touch and rubbed with the rhythm. His tactical pants kept him safe and warm - protected, but still the shape and size of his equipment was pronounced through mere contact. Testing out different motions and levels of pressure promoted König’s panting and whimpering, thus quickly developing into out-right groans and cries.
“Bitte…” He trailed off, and Horangi decided to be a little rougher to send The Austrian somewhere nice.
The man gasped for air and nuzzled into the sensation, squeezing his thighs slightly together to keep Horangi in place. The sound of boots scraping eagerly against the concrete floor backed up his vocals, just as eager. It almost sounded like his voice was suppressed by teeth biting deliciously down on lushes lips, but failed through his gasps. Horangi complied and rolled his ankle along the length, digging his heel methodically down where he assumed the jewels were located. Shaky weeps confirmed that the jackpot had been acquired.
Everything definitely raised a few degrees under Horangi’s shirt. He didn’t think much of it, didn’t mind his K9 corner teeth itching just a little, and helped his partner over the edge before the silence bloomed with after-glow panting. König took his time to collect himself before sitting up straight again against the wall, and parted with the combat boot.
“Feel better now?”
“Somewhat, yeah. You can retract your leg if you want.”
“Ah, you see. I wish I could, but I think I hurt my knee somewhere on the way here. It kinda hurts to bend or lift.”
König shifted in his seat and made his restraint jitter before sighing deeply.
“I didn’t know, sorr–”
“--Stop saying sorry, you've done nothing wrong. I'll tell you if there's something to be sorry for, so don’t feel bad for anything here. We're partners, aren't we? Whatever happens on the battlefield, stays on the battlefield. So you can thank me, if you want to do pleasantries.”
“...Thank you.” König started softly. “You’re a good medic.”
Horangi snorted and went for the attempt to rub the bag off his head. Bending his knee in any direction just sent a shock of pain up his thigh.
“Rejected medic. That's okay, I enjoy the field better, It doesn't pay as much- but it will do. Looking after people is just my hobby for now.”
“Rejected sniper here…”
“Well, guess we are a couple of rejects together.”
Horangi chuckled and gave up on the hood for now, he received an amused exhale from König however, and found solace in that.
The larger man was kinda… charming, in his own anti-social way, but could hold a conversation like any other person. He noticed that König just didn't like crowds, who could blame him. Once the temptation of loud music, people and drunken cheers was everything desired, now silence sings unmatched tunes.
In search of solitude, wherever there weren't people - there was König. The Austrian avoided most interactions with crowds which didn't include field work or briefing, and Horangi would often find him wandering on his own in the training range, honing his skills. If Horangi didn’t know any better, he’d think a non-stop killing machine was sitting before him, always on edge and ready to bite. That was before he had witnessed gentle compassion, consideration and handling from the giant– mostly towards animals but sometimes toward the people closest to him in his unit.
Horangi used to have family dogs, two of them in fact, his whole life. When one died, it would be swiftly replaced by a new one to protect the house. He was never alone with them around, watching them wandering the garden or resting by his leg when he enjoyed a good book. He had missed them dearly when he joined the military, but slowly filled their void with König, who would nudge against him just the same for attention. Maybe that's why he was attracted towards the gentle giant. He enjoyed hanging around the lonely guard dog doing his job so perfectly. The pillar keeping them safe from a distance, in the corner on his own.
“Why don’t you… talk more.” Horangi asked.
König's voice was always soothing and pleasant to the ear. Adorable in a sense - but the man would never talk out of his own volition, only speak when spoken to, which wasn’t a problem, per se. Very unfortunate for Horangi, though. If he had his way, he would wish for König to talk for hours, just so he could listen to everything and nothing - to deeper understand what that German accent did to him exactly. How it made his heart race just a little. It would more than often, however, end up the other way around. Horangi could ramble on for ages about whatever K-drama he had started obsessing over or whatever line in a book had made him lose his breath. And König would idly listen and nod as he kept going.
Horangi thought the man only did it for him, seeking him out for random banter when down-time dragged on for a bit too long. He would notice The Soldier wander off and receive solitude with others in KorTac when Horangi himself was busy, or enjoying his own solitude. For a moment Horangi thought he had accidentally picked up a lonely puppy a little too attached to the first thing it found. Though far from the truth, König had the ability to draw rambling out of people with ease, all the while doing none of the talking.
Colleagues have reported how surprised they were about their one-on-one interactions with the infamous terror-in-human-flesh, a monster on the field and a gentle bear on base. Some even reported being shocked to witness said monster huddled up on the couch in the common hall to watch TV. König was no monster, brutal and angry at times, but he could not imagine what they saw. Horangi knew if only they got more time to make acquaintances, they would grow attached to the giant as well. Knowing it would be better for every party if König interacted with more people… And yet, he didn’t want König interacting with anyone.
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Say anything, I like when you talk and people like to listen to you - when you do talk, I suppose. I know some of the guys back home would love to discuss tactics with you.”
Or he could just ignore everyone and watch a suspicious amount of Netflix together with Horangi. He didn't mind either way, as long as the Austrian was there.
König shifted around in silence, looming in his own thoughts like he always does, and cleared his voice.
“There's a window at the end of the room–”
“--Wait, you don't have a hood on you?!” Horangi interrupted, shocked.
“Well, I have my sniper hood on me.”
“Har, har. I meant- you have visuals?”
“Ja, kind of dark, but visuals are clear.” König turned around the room and continued. “Window; four panes. Floor; Empty. Door; Solid steel– no bars. Restrain; Double zip ties. And–”
König interrupted and fake coughed, the gaze felt like it had landed straight on him.
“And?” Horangi continued before the metal door clicked slowly open.
The soldiers both quickly turned towards the noise as another two sets of steps marched into the room. They stopped, out of reach, before discussing something in their native tongue. A woman: mid-forties or early fifties based on her voice, and a man: the same guard that escorted König earlier.
The lady fumbled with a locked box of some sort, and pulled out a tool which chimed like metal. Horangi instinctively recognized the following sound as the squirt of a syringe.
“Schweinhund! Don’t touch him!”
König started kicking about, but was silenced by the guard and cried in pain - the air escaping his lungs. Horangi was robbed of the bag on his head, and his hair was grabbed into a fistful to pull aside. His neck was forcibly exposed to the elements, and any form of resistance gained him a painful stomp onto his bad knee. None of it could compare to the cold jab of a needle burrowing itself into an artery. The lady made sure to pump every single drop of whatever liquid she had into the soldier before retracting the tool out. She even gave him a head scratch as a reward when she pulled away, with the absence of a fight.
“Effective in 5 minutes, maybe less.” She began with her accent sickening thick and placed the syringe back into her box. She noticed some blood on her hand, which was wiped off onto her uniform and huffed at. The stranger pulled out a knife from her sheath momentarily and approached. “I gave you the same dosage as that guy, but as you can see; you are much smaller than I expected. So if you don’t kill yourself because of the side effects - the dosage will.”
The stranger cut the zip ties loose and kicked Horangi to the floor with ease. Not even a sound trailed his lips when he hit the ground, only eyes clenching shut. If he still had his sunglasses on, it would definitely sell the idea that he remained unscathed and brave… and probably cool. You just have to ignore the fact that he was gritting his teeth shut and fighting the urge to scratch the injection out. Probably fighting the urge to shed tears too.
“I will be collecting data in the morning, or your body, whichever comes first.” She smiled down at her subject and left the room with a barrage of insults and curses from the Austrian.
The door slid into its natural state and sullenness befell the room. König whipped his attention back to the man on the floor, who was steadily breathing and silently mouthing numbers. Otherwise, The Tiger remained motionless on his back. His arms were by his sides, twitching mere inches away.
“Horangi–”
“--Don't.” He interrupted and inhaled sharply through his teeth, his exhaling escaped as a deeply prolonged groan. “I can do this. I just need to prevent the whatever-the-fuck from spreading. It's fine- it's fine. As long, it doesn’t reach my heart or brain or kidneys– what am I saying; it's in my bloodstream, of course it's going to reach my heart. Man, I don’t digest alcohol that well. Maybe if I pretend, it's just gonna act like a poison and the liver just flushes it out? Symptoms… drug symptoms… can't remember shit– Maybe I should have eaten before leaving base. This thing is going to last for a while. König, how are you feeling?”
König blinked slowly with wide eyes at the man that looked back up at him.
“I have a pretty good metabolism, so I’m fine. Kind of.”
“Which means I’m royally fucked– fuCK- AH!”
Horangi suddenly arched his back off the floor and grasped at the shirt over his chest. His breathing became uncontrollable panting, rapid heartbeats felt unnatural against his rib cage. The beat threatened to burst his ear drums, ears pooling with something viscous and warm. His blood was rushing into every part of his body, and he felt a creeping heat forming with his sweat. The tingles, like when your leg falls asleep, traveled down Horangi’s spine and into his stomach. It did something to him that didn’t feel right, something creepy-crawly just under his skin.
König wiggled restless with worry and scanned the room for anything that he might have missed. Only did he start yanking his zip ties when Horangi keeled over on his side, clutching his stomach with unholy gasps. Horangi rode the wave of discomfort to its end and sprung his eyes open. In the struggle to catch his breath, he noticed König fussing with his wrists red - about to bleed, bruised from previous escape attempts. Horangi felt his brain slowly scramble, and hastily propped himself up on his palms. He shook with every major swing of the limb. Before he lost his mind completely, he needed to use it to help his partner.
König blinked at him slowly and stopped struggling. With nowhere to retreat to, he sat patiently to observe the soldier put weight on his good knee and prop a hand on the wall behind König. Trapped into place, the Austrian looked up to see the reveal of a necklace brandishing Horangis neck. It was a form of bendable metal with a strange texture lining the surface. It was pulled with a wobble off of his skin, like a drunken man taking off his tie. The back of the chain snapped with a satisfying pop and was looped around König’s zip ties above his head. Horangi lost balance and caught himself on his bad knee on the other side of König’s lap, ultimately finding himself in agonizing pain.
König, however, found his partner straddling above himself. Before either of them could react, Horangi automatically hissed a string of curses and leaned forward onto the wall with clenched eyes. His forearms ripping against the surface, scratching his skin, meanwhile his head hit the wall a bit too hard for comfort. Anything to take the pain off his knee. König felt droplets tapping him over his chest and, later, lap. Upon further inspection, the drops were identified as blood slipping down from Horangi’s naked chin, trailing lines amongst his afternoon shadow. It didn’t stop the man from continuing his mission and collecting composure once he had recovered. Horangi used his necklace to file away the plastic like a saw, dragging it back and forth with both hands. He kept cursing and softly moaned under his breath with bodyweight leaned backwards, holding the ends of his necklace in both hands.
“My vision is getting blotchy, so you better catch me when this thing snaps. I– ah– I think I'm at my limit. Nngh.”
König nodded and carefully listened to the sawing motion, eating away at the material. Soft breaths descended over the sniper hood while he settled his vision onto the broad chest in front of him. Horangi’s movements got sluggish and slower with time, ultimately giving up in the end. He gripped König’s shoulder for a firm support, while his remaining fingers threaded themselves under the worn down zip. And with a last ditch effort, he tore the zip apart with a loud snap.
Before Horangi could stumble, he had already been caught by two strong arms grabbing onto him. He was slowly coaxed to sit down onto a soft lap and his head placed perfectly onto a firm shoulder. Tired eyes could finally rest as the room seemed to have turned itself upside down. Horangi let his hair be parted from sticking to his forehead, his blood being wiped onto König’s uniform.
“S-status report.” König mimicked once they had found the right position to sit.
“I think I’m about to throw up. It feels like I just traveled back in time, downed 15 shots and stayed up gambling for like three days in a row. Ah– Ssi-Bal… Fuck, it’s hot. This is a nightmare.”
Horangi tried to wriggle away from the larger man coddling him like a baby, the heat from where they were connected seemingly too much. Any attempt to move punished the soldier with a burning kneecap, shooting the tingles up his thigh. He cried as, not only his leg, but his stomach and hips also, stung with a burning sensation. It felt better to hold onto the larger man as he rubbed slow circles onto his arm with one hand, the other playing with his hair. The comfort… had helped, though he would never admit it.
“I’m surprised you still remember how it's like to be drunk.”
At some point, he had told König he stopped drinking when he joined the military, never wanting to return to the outlaw of a life he used to have. Never wanting to feel out of control or addicted to the rush again.
“Well, I’m definitely not sober. And I’m gonna die, feels like I'm dying, König. This is it. My insides are shutting down.” Horangi groaned lightly and shivered when feverish waves had come and gone. “Tell my children I love them.”
“Just breathe, and you will see your books again soon, sir.”
“Promise me you will record Squid Game season two and put it on my grave for me.” Horangi said between gasps.
“I already promised that we would watch it together, so I won’t be doing that.” König’s eyes smiled down, and he reached a hand towards Horangi’s neck with two fingers.
Horangi knew that he was gonna check for the rate of his pulse, but his instincts had hoped that the knuckles would wrap themselves around his throat instead. The intrusive thought made The Korean panic, and he immediately grabbed the hand for it to stop. He thanked the heavens that it did stop and discovered two gray marbles staring back at him– darting around distressed. Glistening puppy dog eyes, barely visible in the shadow of his hood. König glanced away like he had done something wrong.
Before he could retreat, Horangi intertwined their fingers and held him in place, gloved against naked fingers. Both equally surprised by the act, none of them pulled away and settled their braid onto Horangi’s lap instead.
They sat in silence as the smaller man was dipping in and out of consciousness, his head bobbing up and down against the crook of König’s neck. Horangi’s face was slowly turning red, growing an Asian flush he had no control over. Soon he could be part of the Christmas decorations. Every brush König made sent sparks down a damp back, and his brain went deliciously numb.
“Sweating” He started off and caught König’s attention again. “I’m definitely growing a fever, major discomfort and nausea… And my dick is really fucking hard.”
“I noticed.”
Horangi didn't realize that he had started fidgeting with König’s hand over his lap, right next to said dick, outlined and straining against his trousers. Before he could throw the hand away in a frenzy, König reached over to poke at the grasp over Horangi’s stomach.
“Does this hurt?”
Confused over what he himself was doing, he let go of his stomach, instantaneously, an invisible force hit him straight in the groin. He gasped for air and spasmed, being grounded by König holding tighter around him and pulling him closer. His head was firmly placed under a gentle chin to secure him, and his body was limp against König’s frame. The sniper hood flushed like a cool drape over a bruised face.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
König tensed up when his shirt was grasped and pulled at, his name like prayers between desperate hics and cries - of how Horangi would never be able to see his favorite heroine get with that one rich guy now. König rolled his eyes lovingly and inhaled a sweet aroma deeply through his hood.
He watched as Horangi was scratching more and more at his skin, reaching up to rip at his neck a bit too aggressively for König’s liking. Luckily, gloved fingers could not do permanent damage, but the rough fabric definitely left markings. He took a hold of both roaming wrists, grounding them.
“Don’t do that. You will hurt yourself.”
“If I don’t feel anything at some point, I'm going to pass out. And as fun as pulling it out with your homies is, I don’t want to beat one out if I can't even sit on my own.”
“Hmm, I can, though.”
König hummed and gently rotated his partner around so he was sitting on the floor between his legs. Horangi had his back flushed against König’s hunched front, surrounded by big thighs squeezing his legs together and elbows to trap his arms in place. He was completely encapsulated, receiving the greatest hug of all time.
A heart beating fast against his back, his rear backing into something noticeably hard and his breath losing its pace, catching in his throat. It all made Horangi really dizzy as he bobbed his head back onto a reliable shoulder.
“You're going to make me go stupid. Please...” Horangi choked on his embarrassment when König didn't seem to nudge in the right direction. It activated a violent shiver. “Help… please? It really hurts… ugh…”
“Of course, sir.”
Large fingers slowly trailed their way towards his stomach, aligning thumbs to pull at Horangi’s belt. It relieved pressure from where his stomach had been abusing his nerve signals - he finally remembered to breathe when instincts forced a gasp in the absence of tension. Horangi’s fingers wrapped themselves around large biceps, working rough fingers down his pants. His belt buckle jingled nicely as it was opened, and the owner shivered when his cock was freed from it zipped prison.
“Good boy… thank you–”
Horangi only realized his stupidity had slipped when the chest behind him jump at the compliment. It did not discourage anyone from stopping, König seemed even more eager to traverse both hands across his squad mate. One hand reached under the black shirt to palm soothing pressure over said stomach, perfect pressure over a fur trailed belly. The other hand tugged at the waistband of matching military issued underwear. König slipped two fingers under the band and held Horangi between his fingers, like a cigar, tracing the length between them.
A hot breath dawned on Horangi’s shoulder, and he felt a heavy chin resting on his exposed neck. The larger man inhaled the sweat through his mask and placed kisses against the rough hood.
“Tell me what you want.” He growled against Horangi’s shoulder.
“Free me, please. I want your hand on me– around me. Touch me, make me cry, please. Oh my god–”
Within seconds, König had pulled the throbbing shaft out, his calluses grinding against the tender skin. With every stroke, slicking the length with pre-cum and sweat, Horangi grew more and more audible. His pleads, gasps and lewd cries complimented the way he arched his back into König - slotting his bulge snugly against where he felt at home. His voice pitched involuntarily when sensitive areas were touched, and his little head peeked out of its hood as he fucked into König’s palm.
“자기야… ah– Right there, yes! Keep going, you're so good.” He could not think, vision blurring and his mind screaming for him to crawl into his squad mate. “Mark me.”
He needed pain, he needed an anchor. König was still being too gentle, only when his tough skin pressed onto a vein did the feeling of falling in a dream subside. Moaning louder rasped his voice nicely and the pressure around his root was divine, begging for it to continue, gaining him satisfying strain on his skin.
Horangi felt a groan vibrate on his neck, the hand not pumping him reached up to lift the sniper hood and reveal a little nose. It took a final inhale of Horangi’s natural perfume and bit down onto the tendon. His teeth dug in right where the needle had entered, where Horangi didn’t realize he had the most tension and pain. He lost his voice as the grasp wrapped around him clenched and drained him of his seeds. König didn't draw blood, but Horangi sure as hell wished he did, the pain made him cognizant of his surroundings and awake. The overstimulation of his insides fucking him over, and his squad mate handling him wasn't enough, he was drifting soon again.
“More… please.” Horangi lowered his shoulder and pulled his shirt aside - rutting into König earned effective sounds right into his ear. “Destroy me. I need it to hurt.”
König was about to comply when the droplets returned. He felt something warm hit his hand and when he looked over made a little surprised noise. Quickly, before it could startle both of them, the taller man had balled his sleeve and upheld it under Horangi’s nose.
“Sir, you're burning up.”
“What?”
Horangi could finally taste the blood leaking down his face, staining his lips as he spoke. His nose had started bleeding and the color in his face was not lighting up. Great… just as it was getting good. Good? Did he want this to continue? After his nose had been wiped clean, he turned over his shoulder to face König, a little too fast, which created white spots in his vision. He was met with the same gray marbles suddenly filled with worry and fading into a blurr.
“I might pass out.”
In the next beat, without hesitation, Horangi keeled over and vomited - the taste of iron being the trigger to his gag reflex. He finally allowed himself to pass out and slump into firm hands. Whatever happened from now was on König.