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if you think about it this way, it’s all rapi’s fault, actually.
there are a lot of group projects to do if you’re a social work major - there’s no getting around that, almost every course has one and you either fail the course or get blacklisted as a freerider if you don’t do the work - but if you’re lucky enough, you’ll get to form your own clique, work with your friends all the time. that’s how the commander ended up stuck with rapi and anis the first time, both of them high school classmates of his ex-girlfriend. neon joined the group at some point after that, and the rest is history.
which also means he’s been stuck with these three since first year - he’s a final year now and his ex whom he still adores in a sibling sort of way is almost done with her two-year-long study abroad program, and he still barely knows the other people in his own damn faculty because rapi, anis and neon are the only people he ever talks to.
the real problem started there - where to work on their group projects? neon lives with her aunt, anis’ dorm is a safety hazard with all the unwashed socks and empty soda cans she’s got lying around, and the commander has pretty invasive flat-mates who he doesn’t trust to even go near the girls. naturally, the only answer was for them to beg rapi.
“it should be okay,” she said, “unnie moved out ages ago and dad basically lives in his office, so we could have the whole place to ourselves?”
it started off fine. great, even. none of them had expected rapi to live in a penthouse, after all - there are girls who look rich and are rich, like the three girls leading the business faculty, you have girls like anis and neon who just perpetually vibe broke even if they don’t look it, and you have rapi. rapi looks like many things - pretty, responsible, hermione granger if she had straight firetruck-red hair and studied accounting for a year before switching majors - but if the commander has to be honest, ‘rich’ isn’t one of those things. middle class, sure, well-learned, well-read and well-spoken in the way affluent kids usually are, but not rich enough to have a penthouse in this economy. you’ve got to be rich rich for that.
when anis gawked and wondered if they needed a live-in maid, rapi had only shrugged with a small smile. they already had maids. apparently, both her father and her sister work very secretive but veeeery well-paying jobs. maybe anis’s future career backup plan had some merit to it.
half a year later, the commander found out rapi’s unnie was the one and only red hood, the beautiful, beloved-ly brash actress, who had just finished the last of promotions for the latest hit movie about cyborg girls who must learn to fight and work together in order to defeat the space robots who are going to herald the apocalypse. well, that explained the red hair.
she’s stunning in the way all bikers are - older, with an air of coolness that can only be brought about by tight-fitting studded leather and chunky combat boots. oh, and she’s tall. the commander is by no means short, but he towers over rapi. next to her big sister and her clunky shoes and the way she just oozes aura, he can’t lie and avoid saying he feels a little small.
the first time they met, she put rapi in a headlock, to which rapi complained for a while before giving up and going limp as red hood did a complex fist-bump sequence with anis. the commander was glad that at the very least, he wasn’t the only one who looked as shell-shocked as he felt. neon’s eyes were about to bulge out of her skull. the commander remembers her taking her smudged glasses off to give them a thorough wipe before putting them on and gawking even more. “you’re- you’re-!”
“goddess,” murmured the commander. that’s what the movie was called.
red hood had grinned at him wolfishly, her teeth gleaming white. “i know i’m good-looking, but isn’t that a bit much to say at first glance, handsome?”
he’d flushed so red, much to red hood’s delight, stammering like a bumbling fool. she let rapi go, only to give her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek that echoed across the living room and made rapi cringe. “ah, baby sister of mine, where’d you find a boy like him?”
rapi had made a noise like the creaking joints of a dying robot, and muttered “oh god, please don’t flirt with my friend.”
honestly, we could stop the flashback there. red hood is very much the commander’s type - older, a little rough around the edges, dominating in a way that doesn’t lead to “fucking assholery”, in the wise words of anis.
but no. if only finding his best friend’s older sister hot was the worst of it.
rapi’s father walked in, playfully chiding red hood for teasing rapi and her friends, and the commander’s entire worldview shifted by enough to make him actually dizzy.
rapi’s father was hot. like, fuck me daddy hot.
he was younger than the commander thought he’d be, but still a good decade and a half older than the commander himself. old enough for smile lines and the slightest hint of wrinkles, yet he had a youthful sort of energy to him. the commander was immediately charmed by the way he carried himself with such poise, like he was used to graciously lifting his foot for peasants to kiss. the commander also remembers wondering, very distantly, whether rapi was adopted or if she shrunk in the wash somehow, since both her sister and her father are giants.
rapi’s father finished greeting his daughters, who were both very excited to see him, then turned to the other three. his smile was warm, but his gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s. they made eye contact, and the commander shuddered, feeling uncomfortably seen through as his heart trips over itself in his chest and his brain keeps coming up with increasingly inappropriate thoughts along the lines of wow, what a DILF.
“hello, rapi’s friends. i remember you,” he told anis with a polite nod, “but the other two must be new. you can call me andersen, by the way.”
neon gasped. “oh, you’re andersen!” the man did look a bit familiar, but the commander couldn’t quite tell why. it was incredibly strange, considering neon rarely recognized people that the commander didn’t. “my aunt talked about you before. she says you’re annoying, by the way.”
the commander remembers thinking: wait, neon’s aunt ingrid, ceo of elysion, one of the largest companies supplying firearms to the military, knows this guy? his ‘started mandatory military service and never left’ vibes are real?
andersen had only chuckled, starting up a conversation with neon.
“he used to be a high ranking military commander, but they discharged him ‘cause he got shot,” anis whispered to him, her eyes glinting with a deviousness that the commander did not like. “he’s deputy chief of national security now. powerful guy.”
she was smirking, which could only mean one thing - she knew. oh god, everything else would’ve been so much easier if the commander had decided to crush on red hood, but no, he had to go for the dad who’s almost old enough to be his dad, if he had one.
andersen turned to him. “now, who might you be?”
the commander stood ramrod straight, telling the man his name with an instinctively tacked-on “sir” at the end, feeling a lot like he’d been thrown back into the compulsory military service period he’d done before university. it kind of made sense, in a way.
“nice to meet you.” andersen had smiled at him, and the commander’s heart beat so fast he thought he was going to throw up. “now, i won’t disturb you all any longer. rapi, do let me know if you need anything, alright?”
rapi nodded, they watched him leave, and the commander actually felt saliva pool in his mouth at the sight of andersen taking off his work jacket to reveal a well-muscled back.
ah, so that’s the physique of an older man who still works out… damn…
anis cackled like she was trying to become a hyena. “i can’t believe you called him sir.”
neon frowned, looking from the commander to andersen and back. “ex-military man and ex-military-current-government man… i think it makes sense? auntie ingrid just told me to call him ahjussi. says it pisses him off.”
anis patted neon’s back with a knowing expression, as rapi frowned, the dots not connecting. “stay young and clueless, young padawan.”
“huh? why?”
“just trust me, you don’t wanna know.”
after that, they keep going to rapi’s place. from group projects, to casual hangouts, to a sleepover that red hood had crashed under the guise of chaperoning but really just spent the whole time alternating between bullying rapi and teasing the commander, they’re just there all the time now. the commander is starting to feel like one of the pieces of furniture, with how often red hood’s wolfhound keeps humping his leg.
naturally, that also means he ends up seeing andersen a lot.
in the past three and a half years, the commander has seen him in military wear, in business suits, in casual, half naked with only a towel around his waist after a shower, one incredible time. and every time, the commander feels his eyes linger too long, his heart rate accelerating as his breathing quickens. the worst thing is, he suspects andersen knows. the commander never fails to look away in time, but he always feels eyes on him afterwards, a gaze so sharp it feels like he’s being penetrated.
(and fuck, would he like to be penetrated. andersen could probably rail him against the mahogany work table in his home office and make him scream without breaking a sweat. the commander isn’t sure what he’s packing, and he hadn’t dared to look at the towel ‘cause andersen was looking at him and there’s absolutely no way to ignore eye contact with your best friend’s dad to gauge the size of his dick just by the outline of something underneath the towel, but he’s got a decent sized nose, so there’s definitely something good down there, right?)
oh god, it’s awful. he has it so bad.
he gets dragged out to church by red hood on request of her equally beautiful and equally famous friend rapunzel, who is actually really just a horndog trying to be a nun, not that he knew it at first. something something girls who go to catholic school? she lends him her kindle during prayer - he’s expecting words from the bible, not an unholy erotica about a young woman getting fucked by her attractive stepfather after getting stuck in the washing machine somehow. “good, right?” she whispers to him after the sermon with a dreamy look in her eyes. “i saw you read the whole thing. ah, when am i going to get dicked down like that too~”
red hood pulls a face. “girl, that’s not in the bible.”
the commander, distracted by the fantasy of andersen giving him a solid dicking, mutters, “amen.”
rapunzel bursts into giggles, and is shushed by the lady on the pew behind them. “i’ve got more if you’re interested~”
red hood scoffs, and the expression is so rapi that it gives the commander a bit of a jumpscare. “hell no, i’m not letting you sully him with your shitty porn books. vintage dirty mags are better, and he’s got me for a supplier if he needs ‘em.”
all of a sudden, the commander feels very, very lost. rapi, anis and neon have been going on a lot of “girls’ day outs” lately, which leaves him at the mercy of red hood and her friends, which is even more confusing considering they’re all stunning female celebrities and he’s just some guy red hood’s little sister picked up in class. he wouldn’t even be surprised to meet mustang, the mega-famous ceo of tetra entertainment, at this point.
(actually, neon is doing a summer job at elysion, and rapi and anis have just started dating. they soft-launched it earlier, neon just doesn’t use social media a lot, and the commander is a himbo who hasn’t caught on yet. they’re basically the same as before, except they can kiss on the lips now.
“maybe we should tell them,” anis suggested, once.
“i don’t want to. not yet. what if they’re…”
“one’s a himbo who only has female friends, and the other’s neurodivergent. i think it’s statistically impossible for them to be homophobic. besides, we’ve been friends with them for so long, they’d definitely accept it.”
“how can you be so sure?”
“if neon says anything, i’ll hit her. if the commander’s… yeah, well. i’ll tell your dad the commander wants to be your new stepmom- shit, rapi, you okay? you need water? oh, fuck! you didn’t know, i thought you already knew!”)
due to the fact that red hood and rapunzel have more things planned for the rest of the day that don’t involve the commander tagging along like red hood’s new pet puppy, he’s been left to his own devices. but instead of making his own way home like he’d expected, it’s andersen who’s driving him home? apparently, red hood asked for it, since andersen’s heading somewhere near the commander’s flat, anyway.
naturally, he gets in the car. andersen, as always, is looking good. the commander really hopes he doesn’t leave sweat stains from the horny-stress on the nice leather seats.
“you’ve been spending a lot of time with both of my daughters, boy.”
the commander tries not to choke. “rapi’s one of my best friends, and red hood is a blast to be around, sir. but if this is the prelude to a shovel talk, i’m afraid it’s wholly unnecessary.”
andersen raises his eyebrow through the rearview mirror. why is it so hot? damn the man. the commander secretly cranks up the air conditioning. “oh?”
“yeah, because, uh, reasons. we’re just… good friends.” it’s probably not the wisest to say he’s a raging bisexual who is currently very much into older men, specifically the older man driving the car right now, and he doubts both of andersen’s daughters like men. red hood acts like a woman who would fuck women, and the commander can’t tell if rapi and anis just hold hands like most female friends to do, or if it’s because they’re dating, since the only time rapi holds his hand is if he’s fallen flat on his face and needs help getting up, and they never hold hands with neon, who never seems to get the hint. or any hint, really.
the commander prays for the conversation to fade into silence, since andersen looks so good in his three-piece bespoke suit, his features sharp and rugged in the midday light, and the commander isn’t sure he’ll be able to hear anything else over the sound of his racing heart. rapunzel had recommended another erotica to him before she left - one about a girl who got fucked by her best friend’s father in the backseat of the car.
clearly, the commander isn’t the only one who likes older men, but he’d shoot himself before telling rapunzel.
(“thank god that won’t ever happen to me,” red hood had said, “being the best friend who has to find out her best friend and dad had some kind of sordid affair, i mean.”
“yeah?” the commander had asked, his throat suddenly very dry.
“yeah, like andersen’s kinda hot, so the chances are low but never zero,” rapunzel had added with dreamy eyes. it feels odd to know what rapunzel looks like when she’s horny, worse to recognize it on sight.
red hood had just shrugged. “well, me and rapi are flesh and blood, but the man who made us ditched us when rapi got sick. andersen may have been the man who raised us, but we’re not blood related.”)
well, good for red hood, because if andersen doesn’t drive faster and let the commander off soon, he thinks he’s going to jump the older man. those biceps. god.
andersen keeps making casual conversation - asking him how he’s getting along with the girls, how he’s getting on at school, what he’s planning on doing in the future. the commander isn’t sure if andersen just wants to get to know him, or if he’s just intrigued to finally get a chance to talk to rapi’s only male friend, or if rapi’s told him the commander is an orphan and andersen is trying to bring some fatherly energy into his life.
well, news flash if andersen’s trying to adopt a son - the commander’s got daddy issues for miles, and the only fatherly figure he’d accept is one that would give him a good dicking while also calling him a good boy.
of course, he’s not going to say that.
the commander ends up telling the older man about his part-time job at the rehabilitation centre. apparently, he’s done such a good job counseling quency, the pickpocket who keeps breaking out, that they’re planning to hire him as a full-time worker immediately out of graduation, then sic him on yuni, the girl who got manipulated into aiding the terrorist who almost destroyed the city two months ago. according to quency, it’s really the ceo from the technology firm, missilis, who really deserves all the blame, since she drove yuni’s best friend mihara to the brink of suicide, which happened to be yuni’s moral breaking point. considering pretty much nothing said about syuen is good - transphobia, racism, the face of a pug and the yapping bark of a chihuahua, genuine stupidity, that woman has it all - quency’s words sound pretty legit, but she also gets all her intel from other past and present criminals, so the commander can’t be too sure.
andersen laughs. “that sounds about right. both about yuni, and about syuen being a pain. to this day, i still wonder why her political influence is almost as strong as mine, and i’m the deputy chief of national defense.” he winks. “that’s a military grade secret, by the way.”
the commander gulps. that’s a lot of trust to place in your daughter’s friend. luckily, what goes on in this car is going to stay in the car. “yeah?”
“she hates my guts, but i’ll never hear the end of it from the president if i tell her i feel the same way.”
the commander is so charmed by this man. “your secret is safe with me, sir.” he mimes zipping his lips. “but you might want to plant an idea into secretary enikk’s head about getting syuen fired from the cabinet. she goes viral for all the shit she says so often that even the other countries are starting to complain.”
andersen bursts out laughing, and oh, isn’t that a magnificent sight? “maybe i will,” he teases. “at the risk of being called a misogynist.”
the commander feels himself crack a goofy smile. “then bring up doban, too,” he suggests, “or burningum, gender equality means nobody gets spared from being called out for how their actions are negatively influencing the economy of this country, right?”
“yes, and we should hire you as a replacement, no? we are sorely lacking in youths who aren’t afraid to speak their minds.”
the commander almost has a heart attack when he realizes that the hand that andersen is not holding the wheel with is currently resting on his thigh. is he supposed to bring it up? but it feels kind of nice, and maybe talking politics is a government worker’s type of flirting, so maybe not? he clears his throat to stop himself from squeaking. “please don’t,” he chokes out, “there’s a reason why almost nobody majors in politics. the introductory course only had four people, including me, and all of us barely even passed that course. i’m never touching politics again.”
“wow. who was your professor?”
“johan.” he was such a harsh grader, and so mean. so incredibly mean. but smoking hot for a guy his age.
“ah, new hope.” andersen chuckles. “let me guess, he was a perfectionist with impossible standards?” the commander nods. “yes, that sounds correct. that’s what he was like as a colleague, too. not sure what inspired him to teach.”
“but i passed! he gave me so many past papers to do, i went from a failing grade in midterms, which didn’t count for the final grade, thank god, to a c in finals, which is pretty good, right?”
“clever boy,” praises andersen, giving the commander’s thigh a little squeeze. it’s almost casual, but the warm, heavy weight of andersen’s hand really gives one reason to wonder.
“th- thank you, sir.”
woof, says one side of the commander’s brain. don’t get hard don’t get hard don’t get hard, says the other.
he lasts until he gets home. barely. andersen lets him off, but not without another thigh squeeze, this one higher up and suspiciously close to his crotch. by the time he staggers to his front door, his boxers are almost soaked through, and he’s so hard he thinks he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t get himself some relief, pronto.
he spends the afternoon thinking about andersen fucking him in the backseat of his expensive silver maserati, on top of the shiny white leather seats, and acquaints himself very nicely with his right hand. it’s only a fantasy, but it’ll have to be enough. what are the chances andersen’s into him anyway?
it’s a lost cause until it isn’t.
the commander finds himself at rapi’s penthouse during the weird hours between friday and saturday, a blackout-drunk neon carefully carried in his arms, sleep-mumbling about needing more firepower, while anis, almost just as drunk, clings to a more-than-tipsy rapi. the commander himself is not entirely sober, but hey, he got them there in one piece, didn’t he? he’s determined to get the girls into bed in one piece too.
well, he’s trying his best. anis keeps stopping mid-stumble to make out with rapi, who is much more eager than usual to reciprocate.
he waits for rapi to fish out the keys to open the door. waits some more. he’d get them himself, but he remembers her tucking them in her bra because her skirt had no pockets, and there’s absolutely no way he’s going to go scrawling around in his best friend’s bra.
it’s going to take them some time, since rapi is too busy sucking face with anis. the commander sighs, then steels himself to ring the doorbell.
the dingdong is deafeningly loud in the silence of four (?) am on a saturday.
footsteps echo from the inside, and andersen opens the door, clad only in slippers and a pair of low-hanging sweatpants. the commander feels his mouth go dry and his face flame hot as he forgets whatever it was that he had planned on saying.
“um,” he says cleverly with his eyes squeezed shut. “good… morning?”
nothing is safe to look at. eyes? too piercing. salt and pepper stubble? too attractive. abs and that massive gunshot scar? hot but the commander doesn’t want to look rude. anywhere lower means making eye contact with the not-insignificant bulge down there, which the commander really doesn’t want to do.
only now does it hit him that he is absolutely not dressed to see a friend’s caretaker - he’s ‘too buff to be a twink’, but also needs to look ‘fresh and fuckable’ (anis’ words, not his), so he’s wearing a cropped tank top that shows off his midriff and tight, tight jeans that cling to the swell of his ass. he’d been ogled the whole time at the club, but no guy approaches another guy who’s dancing with a group of girls with hopes of getting with the guy, and he didn’t hit it off with any of the girls who did approach. it’s not like he could leave his friends to mingle on his own, anyway. he’s basically their guard dog.
“brought em back,” he slurs, finally remembering, “safe.”
rapi klicks off her shoes and very determinedly drags a giggling anis into her room. the bedroom door slams shut, and the click of the lock makes the commander pause again. “um.”
andersen cracks a smile - the one he does when he’s trying not to laugh. “neon can use red hood’s room, then. come on in.”
the commander resolutely ignores the further tightening of his pants as he follows andersen in, suppressing a shudder when he lays a snoring neon on the bed and is rewarded with a low murmur of “good boy.”
the commander prays to god and hopes his jeans are tight and non-stretchy enough to hide the raging boner he’s currently sporting, because there’s nothing he can hide it with. “so, um, i’ll head home now,” he announces as he edges towards the door, “sorry to disturb your night, sir…?”
he hiccups, and andersen pins him with a stare that travels down his entire form before flicking back to his flushed face. “you’re in no state to walk, boy. i’ll drive you.”
ah, no, no, no, the commander isn’t soft or sober enough to deal with this! “oh, no, sir, i couldn’t possibly-”
he stumbles, shattering the feeble illusion of sobriety. a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. “be a good boy and walk with me.”
the commander exhales, all the fight leaving him in a whoosh of breath. andersen’s palm is hot against his shoulder. “yes, sir.”
it feels like there’s something he’s forgetting.
halfway through being manhandled into the backseat of andersen’s car, with andersen looming above him, he points out: “sir, you’re not wearing a shirt!”
a hand cups the swell of his crotch, squeezing a shamefully breathy noise out of him. “but you like it, don’t you?”
he squirms when andersen palms him purposefully, a helpless moan spilling out despite his tipsy confusion. it’s not like he’d be able to foresee this sober, anyway - sure, he has a tendency to dress just a tiny bit more provocatively if he knows the older man is going to be around, but come on, the mesh-top-and-ripped-jeans combo hasn’t even been busted out of the closet yet! he genuinely can’t recall doing anything that could qualify as seducing andersen.
not that he’s complaining, though. he’s only being groped through his jeans, but god, he’s already so hard it hurts, and the front of his boxers are sticky and uncomfortable from how wet he’s getting. “so suddenly… why…”
andersen stills, moving away, and the commander just looks at him, even more confused. “if you don’t want this, just say the word and i’ll stop, and we can never speak of this again.”
the commander jerks his hips in a futile attempt at humping andersen’s hand. it’s too far, not enough, and the commander whines weakly, horny and desperate and eager to get out of his too-tight pants. “please,” he begs, “just touch me, sir.” he spreads his legs just a bit wider, making space for andersen to slot himself between them.
callused hands wrap around his waist, where his cropped tank top has ridden up to reveal the firm lines of his abdomen and the vee of his hips. they hold him in place, stopping him from squirming. there’s a firm pressure against his groin, his jeans unzipped without him noticing. “you’re going to be the death of me, boy.”
andersen doesn’t kiss him, but he does latch onto the side of the commander’s neck while pushing his pants and boxers off. the teeth and the tongue and the suction, the hints of stubble grazing against the sensitive skin of his throat, it’s too much. “sir,” he gasps, holding onto the car door for dear life, “i think i’m gonna-”
“hold it. this leather stains easily, and i’m sure you wouldn’t want rapi or red hood to know, would you?”
“no, sir, but i’m really so close-”
“i could always stop,” warns andersen.
the commander shakes his head, pent up and desperate. “i’ll be good,” he promises, “i’ll be so good, i’ll be a good boy, i’ll only come when you say, so please, fuck me, daddy-”
andersen pauses. “daddy?” the commander misses it, begging for cock, his dignity a long-forgotten thing. “well, i see no fault in that title.”
the commander gags, slobbering like a dog as andersen dips two fingers into his drooling mouth, toying with his tongue. he’s really sobbing now, squeezing his cock enough to hurt, just to stop himself from coming. andersen makes quick work of stretching him out, using the commander’s own spit instead of lube, and the commander sees stars every time andersen’s fingers brush across his prostate. it’s a bit dry, but andersen’s fingers are girthy enough to feel so good already. the commander gasps and his knees lock around the back of andersen’s neck when the older man spits on his hole for a slicker slide.
it’s mind-numbingly good for a bit, then three fingers is really not enough anymore and he needs something thicker. andersen leans in, his lips next to the commander’s ear. “use your words, boy, what do you want?”
“fuck me, daddy, want your cock, inside, please, please-”
“good boy.”
the commander’s mouth falls open in a silent scream as andersen slides himself right into the hilt, balls deep. he’s been bent so far his knees are almost touching his shoulders. he’ll definitely feel the burn tomorrow, both in his thighs and his insides.
the feeling of andersen drilling into him is better than any wet dream, every push and grind driving garbled moans and incoherent babbling pleas out of the commander. the older man isn’t very big, but he uses his hips in a way that makes the commander feel full, so full, like he’s been filled up to his throat. he’s moaning so loud surely anyone out there can hear him over the slap of skin against skin, and the thought only makes him cry out like a wanton whore.
“good?” rasps andersen. his voice is even more gravelly than usual, slightly breathless from the exertion. the commander nods frantically, too far gone to form any coherent words. andersen’s low chuckle seems to vibrate through his cock somehow, making the commander clench uncontrollably. his vision is blurring at the edges. “alright, you’ve been a good boy all this time, so it’s time for your reward.” andersen’s hand wraps around his cock. “go on, let go. come for daddy.”
the relief is overwhelming. the commander cries out as his entire body locks up, his vision going white as the pleasure overwhelms him completely. he’s still trembling when the waves of his orgasm subside, and oversensitivity sets in just in time for him to shudder when andersen gives him a few more faster, harsher thrusts, grunting as he spills liquid heat into the commander’s guts.
the commander, completely loose-limbed, lets andersen do all the work - the man pulls a towel out of nowhere to wipe them both off, zipping and buttoning the commander back into his jeans. the sun is beginning to rise, and as the first rays of light hit his eyelids, he’s realizing he really can’t stay awake anymore. who knew taking it up the ass could be so exhausting?
when he wakes up, he’s back in his apartment, with clean clothes, a glass of water, and a note in andersen’s handwriting set aside for him. before he sets off to shower like a good boy, he checks his phone for unread messages. all of them are from the sociology group chat with rapi, anis and neon, mainly rapi asking where he went while anis and neon debate whose hangover is worse. he scrolls all the way to the last message from rapi.
hey, it’s good to see you’re awake now, it reads, hope you’re not as hungover as the other two. just wanted to ask did anything happen to andersen when he drove you back? he keeps rubbing his back but i’m not sure if he hurt himself or if it’s just middle-aged man back pain. it’s okay if you don’t know, just wanted to ask just in case.
his phone chirps in announcement of a new direct message from anis. U WHORE, it says on the preview.
very wisely, the commander puts his phone down. he’s making that can of worms a problem for future him. let current him figure out how to get to the toilet without falling flat on his face in the middle of the hallway, because he can’t feel his legs. everything from the waist down aches enough to have gone numb.
he stumbles onto unsteady feet with help of the nearest table, a pang shooting up his thigh. he feels his hole clench, unclench, wetness leaking out of him.
oh, fuck.