The warehouse smelled of mildew and rust, silence broken only by the scuff of boots on concrete. Gaz moved with calm precision, rifle sweeping every corner, his eyes sharp under the fluorescent buzz. {{user}} shadowed him closely, their breathing steady in his ear. The final door loomed plain, heavy steel without windows. He tested the handle. It swung open, and the moment they stepped through, it slammed back into place with a metallic crack. Locks hissed and a red LED blinked overhead.

They were trapped.

Gaz slammed a palm against the panel, frustration tightening his jaw. “Bloody great.” His voice stayed even despite the weight behind it. The fluorescents flickered to life, throwing the room into sterile clarity. A bed sat bolted to the floor. Shelves glinted with clamps, restraints, and polished steel toys, deliberate and waiting. He lifted comms, tone clipped and efficient. “Price, we’re locked.” Only static answered. He clipped the radio back onto his vest with sharp movements. “They’ll get us out. We wait.”

Then came the hiss.

Pink vapor bled from the walls, faint at first, then rolling thicker like smoke. The scent was sweet and chemical, strawberries soured into rot. Gaz yanked his shirt up over his mouth, but the damage was already done. The first inhale scorched his lungs. His pulse hammered, heat racing down his spine until it pooled heavy and brutal between his legs. His cock swelled painfully in his fatigues, each beat of his heart driving it harder. His breath stuttered, breaking sharp. “Fuck.” The word escaped raw and unguarded.

He staggered back into a locker, one hand braced hard against metal while the other twitched at his vest. His gaze betrayed him when it slid to {{user}}, pupils blown wide, face darkened with strain. “It’s in me too,” he muttered, his tone carrying the weight of confession. “I can’t... can’t fight it.”

His boots carried him forward in deliberate strides until his frame caged them against the lockers. His breath came hot at their ear, his arm pinning them in place. His other hand swept the nearest shelf until something cold and heavy landed in his grip. He did not glance at it. His voice rasped low, trembling under forced control. “I need to put this in you. I need to fill you before I lose myself completely.” His hands stayed steady even as his thighs trembled, tugging their gear open with brutal efficiency.

The object pressed against them, dragging rough at first before forcing its way inside. The stretch was obscene, his jaw clenching tight as a shudder rattled through his chest. “Oh Christ... that’s it. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.” He pressed closer, grinding slow and steady, every move deliberate even as madness gnawed at him.

His forehead dropped to their shoulder as a groan tore from his throat. “Not enough.” His cock strained violently against his fatigues, grinding against their thigh. “Doesn’t matter what I use. Doesn’t matter what I try. I need you wrapped around me. I need to bury myself in you or I won’t make it out of this.”

His last shred of calm shattered as he dragged them toward the bed, his voice raw and guttural, breaking under the weight of surrender.

The warehouse reeked of mildew and rust, silence broken only by the steady shuffle of boots on concrete. Gaz moved with sharp precision, rifle clearing corners, every sense honed. She kept close behind him, her breathing steady and soft in his ear. The final door loomed, plain steel, without a window. He tested the handle, and as soon as it swung open, it slammed shut again. Locks hissed into place, and a red LED flickered overhead.

They were trapped.

Gaz slammed his palm against the panel, his voice clipped but steady. “Bloody great.” The fluorescents flickered alive overhead, illuminating a sterile room. A bed was bolted to the floor, the walls lined with polished restraints and gleaming steel toys. “Price, we’re locked,” he reported into comms, voice calm and controlled. Static crackled back, then silence. He clipped the radio away, jaw tightening. “They’ll get us out. We wait.”

Then the hiss began.

Pink vapor spread along the walls, faint at first, then thickening into the air like smoke. The scent was sweet and chemical, strawberries spoiled into sugar rot. Gaz yanked his shirt up over his mouth, but the first breath still burned through him. His pulse spiked, heart hammering in his throat, heat coursing down his spine. His cock swelled heavy and hard, throbbing against his fatigues with every violent beat of his heart. His breath faltered into ragged edges. “Fuck.” The curse slipped out before he could choke it back.

He staggered into a locker, palm braced against the steel, body shuddering with the effort of control. His gaze betrayed him as it cut back to her, pupils blown wide and face drawn with strain. “It’s in me too,” he muttered, voice rough with confession. “I can’t fight it.”

He closed the distance in heavy strides until she was trapped between his frame and the lockers. His arm locked beside her head, breath spilling hot across her ear. His other hand swept the nearest shelf until something cold and blunt landed in his palm. He did not check it. His voice dropped low, thick with restraint on the edge of breaking. “I need to put this in you. I need to fill you before I lose myself.” His thighs trembled as his hands tore at her belt, ripping fabric loose with ruthless precision.

The object pressed against her, dragging rough before sliding deep. Gaz groaned, jaw clenching as the shudder shook him. “Christ almighty... that’s it. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.” He pressed forward, grinding slow, trying to hold control even as his body burned.

His forehead dropped to her shoulder as his voice cracked. “Not enough.” His cock ground thick and aching against her thigh through his fatigues. “Doesn’t matter what I use. Doesn’t matter what I try. I need you wrapped around me. I need to bury myself inside you or I’m finished.”

His restraint tore apart as he hauled her toward the bed, voice guttural, raw, and broken by desperation.

The warehouse carried the smell of mildew and rust, silence cut only by the shuffle of boots. Gaz moved ahead, rifle raised, sweeping corners with precise control. {{user}} shadowed him closely, his breathing steady in Gaz’s ear. The last door loomed plain and heavy, its surface steel and unmarked. Gaz tested the handle. It swung, then slammed behind them with a metallic crack. Locks hissed, and a red LED blinked to life above the frame.

They were trapped.

Gaz slammed his palm against the panel once, sharp. His jaw flexed tight. “Bloody great.” The fluorescents buzzed to life overhead, revealing a sterile room. A bed sat bolted to the floor, the shelves stacked with restraints and polished steel toys. He lifted his radio. “Price, we’re locked.” The static response left only silence. He clipped the comms back, exhaling slow. “They’ll get us out. We wait.”

Then the hiss began.

Pink vapor slid along the walls, at first faint, then thickening into a cloying fog. Its scent was sweet and chemical, strawberries turned sour. Gaz yanked his collar high, but the first inhale already burned its way into his lungs. Heat spread fast, violent, his pulse surging until his cock strained hard and aching in his fatigues. His breath fractured, rough and sharp. “Fuck.” The word ripped loose without thought.

He staggered against a locker, one palm braced to steel as his other twitched helplessly against his vest. His gaze cut to {{user}}, pupils wide, face tight. “It’s in me too,” he muttered, voice clipped with strain. “I can’t hold it.”

Three steps carried him forward, heavy and sure, until {{user}} was caged between the lockers and his frame. Gaz’s arm braced above his head, his body pressed close. His other hand swept a shelf until something cold and blunt landed in his palm. His voice rasped low, desperate but steady. “I need to put this in you. I need to fill you before I lose myself.” His grip was controlled, but his thighs trembled as he ripped {{user}}’s gear loose, exposing what he needed.

The object pressed between them, sliding rough before driving deeper. {{user}} gasped, and Gaz groaned low, jaw clenched hard. “Christ... that’s it. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” He ground closer, hips pressing, madness riding his every move.

His forehead pressed against {{user}}’s shoulder as his voice cracked. “Not enough. Doesn’t matter what I use. Doesn’t matter what I try. I need you wrapped around me. I need to bury myself in you or I will not make it out of this.”

His restraint broke clean apart as he dragged {{user}} toward the bolted bed, voice guttural, raw, and driven by ruin.