Code of Silence

Sergeant Sean Zevran slips up behind his subordinate, Brandon Evans, and clamps a firm hand on that taut ass. Brandon startles, eyes widening in surprise. 'I see everything in this camp,' Sean growls low. 'I know you two have been sneaking out at night to suck each other off.' With a swift yank, Sean strips Brandon's pants down, exposing him. 'You like sucking dick, don't you?' Sean demands. Brandon shakes his head once, stubborn. But Sean's voice sharpens, berating him until the truth spills out—yes, he likes it, craves it even. Sean shoves Brandon to his knees and feeds him that thick, uncut pole, driving it straight down his throat. He reams Brandon's face with relentless thrusts, then lets him lap at those big, low-hanging balls. Brandon devours every inch, lost in the raw heat of it, yielding completely to his sergeant's command. Authority pulses in Sean's every move, and Brandon knows he must obey, no questions. Sean flips him over a rough table and dives in, tongue circling that fuzzy little hole. He rims Brandon slow and thorough, working him open with expert flicks. 'Ready for my dick?' Sean finally asks, voice like gravel. 'Yes, Sergeant!' Brandon shouts, desperate. Sean slides his massive member deep inside, claiming him utterly. The power dynamic thrums—Sean dominates, Brandon submits, eager to please his superior in every way. But Sean's not done savoring it all. He craves one more angle to plunge truly deep. He rolls Brandon onto his back and enters the muscle stud hard, burying himself to the hilt. The pounding builds, fierce and unyielding, until Brandon erupts, his load splattering across his own hot, ripped torso in thick ropes. Sean pulls out just in time, dropping his own heavy release over Brandon's sweat-slicked, heaving body—a fitting mark of conquest.