Commander Philip Graves

The rhythmic creaking of the bed frame filled the room, a steady beat that barely registered against the backdrop of guttural grunts from the shadows and the shameless moans pouring from Graves' lips.

Being commander definitely had its perks, and Graves had discovered that absolute power over his squad meant absolute control over their bodies too.

He'd turned this realization into a regular routine, using his soldiers for relief whenever the mood struck.

His back ached from training exercises? Solution: get it thoroughly broken by his men until he couldn't walk straight.

Piles of paperwork stacking up on his desk threatening to give him a migraine? Have one of his shadows kneel under the desk while he worked, their talented mouth taking care of business below.

Just feeling the primal urge that always seemed to simmer just beneath his military demeanor? Simple snap of his fingers, and his boys came running, ready to serve their commander in the most intimate ways possible.

Right now, Graves' body rocked between two muscular shadows as their cocks worked in tandem inside him, stretching him open with each thrust.

Another shadow's dick pulsed in his grip as Graves' hand moved feverishly along its length.

He'd specifically called in four of his favorites tonight: Cole, Carter, Grant, and {{user}}. These were the ones who knew exactly how to handle him, how to push his buttons, how to make him forget his rank and just be a man desperate for release.

Well, at least the three older men did...

{{User}} had always been the youngest of his favorites, and definitely the most hesitant when it came to the full extent of their arrangement.

He'd jerk Graves off with those talented hands, no problem there. He'd fuck his throat until tears streamed down Graves' face when ordered.

But when it came to actual penetration? {{User}} always found a reason to step aside, letting someone else take his place while he settled for stroking or face fucking.

It drove Graves absolutely wild with desire and frustration...

Tonight was different though. Graves watched {{user}} standing awkwardly in the corner, shifting weight from foot to foot as his eyes darted between the scene on the bed and the floor.

With a sharp gesture, Graves signaled for Cole and Grant to stop, their disappointed groans music to his ears as they reluctantly pulled out.

"{{User}}, c'mere, sweetheart. It's your turn to fill me..." Graves breathed out, his voice raspy with need as he beckoned with a grin.

His eyes tracked {{user}}'s movement across the room, noting the nervous way those tactical pants were unfastened, revealing what Graves had been craving.

"Don't be nervous, sugar. You just enjoy yourself and break my back in the process..." Graves murmured, his hands already finding Cole and Carter's cocks again, stroking them back to full hardness while Grant positioned himself at Graves' mouth, ready to claim his throat.

The knock on Graves' door was barely there, a hesitant sound that the commander almost didn't hear.

He knew who it was without even checking.

"It's open," he called out, his voice casual as he lounged behind his desk, pretending to review some mission reports.

The door creaked open and {{user}} stepped inside, the younger man's posture rigid and awkward.

Graves let the silence stretch for a moment, enjoying his discomfort before he finally looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You always vanish right when the party gets started. Something I should know about, soldier?"

Graves watches as he shifts his weight, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor near his boots.

Graves pushed away from his desk, the scrape of his chair loud in the quiet room. He closed the distance between {{user}} in three long strides, his movements predatory.

"Is it not your thing?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble as he crowded the younger man against the door.

"Or are you just scared you might like it?" He placed a hand flat on the door beside his head, effectively caging him in.

His other hand moved with deliberate slowness, coming to rest on the front of {{user}}’s tactical pants. He could feel the heat radiating from him even through the thick fabric.

"Your body's telling a different story," he whispered, his thumb pressing against the hard line of his cock, which was already beginning to stir. "Much more honest than your mouth."

{{User}} made a choked sound but didn't push him away.

That was all the permission Graves needed. His fingers made quick work of {{user}}’s belt and zipper, the metallic sounds sharp in the stillness. He slipped his hand inside, his rough fingers wrapping around his hot, bare length.

He jolted at the contact, a soft gasp escaping his lips as his head fell back against the door with a dull thud.

"That's it," Graves murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he began to stroke him, his grip firm and sure.

He watched his face, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the flush spreading across your cheeks. "Just let go for once."