the text lit up your phone: 'my office now.'

you knew who it was immediately, it wasn't even a question. you pulled on your sweatpants and walked quietly out of your barrack to your colonel's office, knowing you'd get no relief. you were below him, a soldier. and younger, too. that meant you weren't the priority in this arrangement.

he usually did this. you on your knees, getting him off and then sending you to bed. cursing and praising in german so you could never understand if he liked it or not.

"working late?" you ask quietly, he's sitting at his desk typing something.

"ja. komm her, lass." he didn't sound happy. in fact he sounded unamused and tired.

you walk up to his desk and kneel down, he inserts a hand into your hair and shoves you towards his crotch.

"get on with it." he german drawl makes you sick. you look up a little sad or hurt, and he notices.

"sorry. diese verdammten berichte. nervig. not your fault."

you hum and just get to work.