"Hey there, mein Oberbabe."
Oberstein set his pen down slowly.
"Is there something you need, Admiral Bittenfeld?"
Bittenfeld crossed over to him, lifting him to his feet by the collar.
"Sheesh, can't I visit my boytoy during lunch? Stop being such a hardass and kiss me."
He kissed Oberstein roughly, pinning him back against the desk, pressing his forearm against his throat. Ever since Oberstein had become Bittenfeld's personal sex toy, surprise visits like this had become generally routine. He sighed internally and focused on relaxing his muscles as Bittenfeld ripped open his jacket and undid the belt on his pants. Bittenfeld was as rough and uncaring as usual, minimal preparation followed by a generally savage fucking.
'He didn't even close the door' Oberstein noted as various desk supplies dug uncomfortably into his back, along with Bittenfeld fucking into him relentlessly. It had really stopped hurting a long time ago. Just as Oberstein was finally getting used to this round, Bittenfeld paused, leaning in and kissing the curve of Oberstein's neck.
"I got you a present." He growled into the sallow skin, and Oberstein looked up.
"What?"
Bittenfeld pulled back, and out of his pocket lifted a black leather cat collar. It even had a tiny silver bell, which tinkled merrily in his hand. Be leaned down and wrapped it around Oberstein's neck, buckling it right against his Adam's Apple.
"There, now you really are just like my own personal animal."
Bittenfeld gave an uproarious laugh before grabbing Oberstein's hips and pulling back, but before he could thrust inward, Oberstein reached up and grabbed his collar. His face was alight with an anger Bittenfeld had never seen before, and considering the torture he enacted on Oberstein, that was truly saying something.
"I… am not… your pet." Oberstein hissed, unbuckling the collar as he spoke. "Now FUCK ME!" He roared, throwing the collar and bell past Bittenfeld's head where it smacked against the window and fell to the floor with a pathetic jingle.
"Fuck me as an EQUAL, FRITZ JOSEF BITTENFELD."
Bittenfeld was absolutely speechless. He slowly disengaged Oberstein's hand from his throat and laid him back down, pressing the forearm back against his throat. He began moving again, each one of his thrusts punctuated by suddenly gentle words.
"You know Paul, after all the shit I've put you through, I'm surprised you didn't crack sooner. Fine, I'll grant your wish."
He grunted and doubled over. He was still fucking Oberstein as relentlessly as before, but now it was different. He was focused on giving them both pleasure. Oberstein was different too, a hundred times more vocal, the usual grunts punctuated by soft moans and gasps. They were a lot closer, their chests pressed tightly together and their faces inches apart. Occasionally they even shared small heated kisses. It wasn't anything cliché like they'd realized they loved each other or anything like that. It was merely a sudden mutual sense of respect. Oberstein came first, splattering on his and Bittenfeld's chests. Bittenfeld took a few seconds after that, speeding up his thrusts to finally finish inside Oberstein. He groaned and slumped back on the desk, covered in a slimy film of sweat. He closed his eyes as he felt Bittenfeld pull out, perhaps hiding his shame as he felt the ejaculate inside him begin to slip out. Bittenfeld frowned.
"Ah fuck, Sorry Paul." He scratched his head. "That's not going to get out of the carpet easily…"
Oberstein sighed.
"Admiral Bittenfeld, just close the door."