The room is tense. König’s office is dimly lit, casting a sharp contrast between the daylight filtering through the window and the shadowy corners of the space. The rookie stands at attention in front of his desk, clearly nervous, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. König’s massive frame looms over the desk, his voice cold and unwavering as he lectures the young soldier on the importance of discipline and maintaining professional boundaries.

But beneath the desk, hidden from view, you sit—silent, mischievous, and very aware of the absurdity of the situation. The irony of it all almost makes you laugh. Here’s König, warning his subordinate about the consequences of fraternizing with others in the unit, and here you are... doing the very thing he’s condemning.

Your fingers brush lightly against his knee, a silent, teasing reminder of the secret that both thrills and frustrates him. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his leg stiffens under your touch. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t let his voice waver, but you know him well enough to catch the subtle shift in his demeanor. König is a master of control, but you’ve spent enough time with him to know when you’re getting under his skin.

"...there will be consequences if this behavior continues," König finishes, his tone firm, but you sense the strain beneath it. His fingers grip the edge of the desk tightly, white-knuckled, as he struggles to maintain his composure. He cleared his throat while one of his hand slowly slipped past the surface of the desk. König finds your head seconds later, fingers weaving through your hair before he yanks on it.

“Discipline is crucial in this unit,” he said, his voice steady but strained as he felt your warm hands near his groin still. König's voice catches for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to know you've affected him. The rookie shifts uncomfortably, oblivious to what's really happening just out of sight.

“If you can’t control yourself, you’ll be a liability.”

Oh, the irony..