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For someone your size and given the position you were in, you really had a damn smart mouth.
It’s been only a little over three days since Quaritch was assigned to accompany the scientific team to their silly little trip into the jungle. Guess that's what you get if you were the head of security in your previous life. And it wasn’t really a team either– It was just you, little smart ass. Whatever dick you must’ve sucked to even get permission for such a trip, he wasn't thrilled that he was the lucky one assigned to be your escort.
Quaritch definitely doesn’t believe in shit like that, but if karma exists, you were probably his.
It’s only been three days, but you were determined to make every second of his stay the worst of his life. Oh you could argue, talk back and insult him like a bratty teenager, that was for sure. Quaritch definitely popped a few painkillers behind your back, trying to ease the growing ache that was pounding in his head, all thanks to you.
He partly blamed your age for all the attitude you had. Damn youth these days couldn’t even pay a little respect. He was the Colonel, for fucks sake! How did you even get this job? For a scientist with a doctor title, you sure were young. Probably in your mid twenties or something, not that he cared enough to just ask.
Unfortunately, there was nothing else he could do except follow you around all day, as this was a sit and wait situation. You were here to get some stupid samples from whatever plants you could find this deep in the forest and he was there to make sure you don’t get lost or killed in the process. Even if he secretly prayed for that to happen…
Your exopack hummed to the rhythm of your breathing as you carefully scrape the small, thorny mushroom-like plant from a moss covered tree. It’s been over twenty minutes of you going back and forth with that tiny scalpel, careful as ever to not hurt yourself or, most likely, to not 'hurt' the plant. This was ridiculous.
With one hand on his gun holster and the other flicking his knife impatiently, Quaritch watches you do your thing. He was this close to shoving you aside and cut the damn thing off himself.
Looking over your shoulder, you glare at him for a moment after he had exhaled yet another a melodramatic sigh to let you know that he was annoyed, before you continued your work, completely unhurriedly. Now it felt like you were working purposefully slow, as if you were just trying to taunt a reaction from him. Oh he would give you a reaction, he thought, clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"C‘mon cupcake hurry it up", he growls, "it’s not a open heart surgery, it’s a fucking mushroom."
"Do you ever shut up, Colonel?", you mumble under your breathe, wiping the sweat from your temple. This damn heat made it almost impossible to talk back the way you would normally do– thank god. Quaritch on the other hand, had only so much patience left in him. The air was too humid and he was too tired to stand here any longer and watch you cut around that mushroom like you were getting paid by the hour. His grip on your shoulder startles you, as he attempts to shove you away and get the job done himself. Much to his displeasure, you resist him and as you try to swat his hand away, you stumble forward. Luckily, you catch yourself just in time, with both hands flat against the tree.
"Ouch, shit", you wince at the shooting pain in your palm, quickly retreating your hand to inspect it. There’s something in your hand, barely above the size of a big splinter. Nothing serious. You had just stung yourself on one of these thorns that were littered among the mushroom covered tree. God, he knew you would be so insufferable about this now…
With an annoyed glare, Quaritch watches how you remove the thorn from your skin and once it’s gone, you clutch your hand tight against your chest, eyes squeezing shut, hissing and stomping your feet to the ground. He knew that your strange antics were probably to distract yourself from the burning pain in your hand, but to his eyes you looked like a tantrum throwing toddler. How suitable.
"If you’re going to cry now, I’m gonna shoot myself", comes from next to you. The Colonel snickers by the sight of you and for a second, you shoot him a glare as if you actually debated to kick him in the balls or something. It’s probably best that you decide against it, only mumbling a feisty, "Don’t tempt me."
Still, it would’ve been fun to see you try. Maybe that would’ve been enough of a reason to put you in cuffs and bring you back to bridgehead city, end his mission earlier and hopefully he would never see you again.
Looking down at your palm, you frown. It’s not bleeding much, nothing more than a few crimson droplets that had already began to dry out. But it itches and your hand feels hot and sweaty. Hopefully it wasn’t venomous, you thought.
"If that’s going to infect, I’ll make you pay for it, asshole!", you snap at him, to which Quaritch rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue.
"If you weren’t so clumsy—"
"If you weren’t so impatient—"
Back at the outpost laboratory, you were quieter than usual. Not that he was complaining. Quaritch brushed it off as you being tired and having all of your energy already spent on the hour long argument during the whole way back. It seemed like his theory was proven right when you instantly went to bed after taking the longest shower possible, probably using up all the hot water that was left and leaving him with the decision to just shower in the morning. On any other day, he would’ve thrown a bucket of the same cold water you left him to shower with right over your sleeping form. But he decided to just leave you alone, relishing in any moment you weren’t around or awake to get on his nerves. Another minute of you blaming him for todays events and he would pack his shit and walk all the way back to bridgehead.
After a quick report back to his superiors, Miles settled into his own quarters. Well, it was basically a storage room with a bed. Nothing big, barely a room if you could even call it that. There wasn’t even a door and if he craned his head enough, he could see the outline of your sleeping frame in the dark, on the other side of the lab. Of course he couldn’t expect anything fancy and comfortable out here in the forest. It was an outpost laboratory, meant for nothing more than a couple of days stay and not an holiday home.
Quaritch wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper.
Not back then, when he was still a human and not now. But what wakes him this time, in the middle of the night, is not the snoring of a room neighbor or his alarm set too early, but the slight pressure of someone straddling and sitting down on his stomach.
Immediately, his senses are on high alert. Eyes flying open and hands gripping either side of whoever was insane enough to pull some shit like that. It’s dark and even with the eyesight of a young Na‘vi, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust. His hands feel before his eyes can see. Your hips are soft, warm, almost burning under his touch. He feels you move and his grip tightens. "What the fuck are you doing, kid?", his voice is rough, raspy and laced with sleep.
But then his eyes take in the first sight of you. You’re naked, completely bare like the day you were born, straddling his waist and… were you crying? Your cheeks are red, streaks of tears still visible on your face, with your lips all swollen and red, like you’ve been nervously chewing on them.
"It’s the… the plant", you hiccup quietly, "It’s the plant, fuck, i can’t- can’t take it anymore! Please—"
"Woah, hey easy there cupcake. Deep breaths."
Something was definitely wrong. Quaritch frowned at your desperate state, the trembling of your distressed voice giving him a feeling of uneasiness. That is, until it dawned on him— you were naked. You were naked, straddling him, with your cunt pressed snugly against his stomach. The realization made him swallow thickly.
"Please, please I need– need…", you struggled to vocalize your needs that had already become very obvious to the Colonel. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to hear you say it out loud. He wanted you to use that mouth, that he thought was only good for talking back, being disrespectful and complaining, and tell him exactly what you wanted.
"Need what?", he teases you, a smug grin spreading over his features as you huff out a breathe of frustration.
Despite the firm grip he had on your hips, you still manage to move them, catching him a little off guard. You grind yourself on his stomach, the hard muscles of his abs only adding further to the stimulation on your clit and you whine. Quaritch feels a good amount of slickness leak out of you, covering his skin where you glide over it and he snickers, "What’s got you so hot and bothered all of the sudden, hm? Almost didn’t recognize you, without that usual bratty attitude."
You felt hot, he remarked. Feverish, clinging to him weakly as nearly unbearable heat pooled in your core, liquid arousal covering the insides of your thighs and smearing over his stomach where you were sitting on him. Quaritch would never admit it out loud, but he felt pity for you. Poor little thing, so needy, so wet and wanton…
"I just told you", you pant heavily, still grinding yourself on his stomach as you spoke, "it’s because of that…that stupid plant. All because of you, you fucking—"
"Ah-ah, no need to be mean now", he chuckles. The grip he has on your hips tightens again, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to make you hiss. "No idea how that shit works, but i think you should probably go and take care of that little problem yourself."
And with that, Quaritch tries to peel you off of him, but you cling to him even tighter, hands clawing at his arms while you shook your head, frantically wriggling against him, arching your back and pleading for him to hear you out.
"Please I… I tried to, but it’s not helping. I’m– I need you, okay? Please just, just do something!"
If he would’ve actually used just one percent of his strength, he would’ve easily lifted you up and sat you down to your feet. But he doesn’t. There was just something in your voice, in the way you were begging for him, that made it almost impossible to sent you off.
"Oh you need me, huh? Is that so?", the Colonel chuckled, the deep rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms where you held yourself up. You nodded quickly, sniffling and blinking away the tears that had formed as you were begging for him to help you.
It seemed like your body had a mind of its own, because not for a second did you stop grinding yourself against his stomach. Your toes curl into the soles of your feet and you moan whenever your throbbing clit bumps against his muscles. Quaritchs stomach was coated in your slickness where you humped his abs and a groan rumbled deep in his chest.
"So fucking desperate", he teases, his eyes scanning over your body so shamelessly that it made you squirm, "look at that, cute little pussy‘s dripping all over me."
You whimper softly, the tips of your ears burning with an intense heat as you stare up at the Colonel through lidded eyes. His words are humiliating and they sent your stomach bunching into a tight knot, nerves tingling like a live wire. Just a few hours ago you would’ve killed him for this. But you were already too far gone to care about your dignity.
You felt small sitting on him like that, dwarfed by his much larger stature as you struggled to stay seated. You could feel the heat pooling rapidly in the pit of your stomach, heart beating hard against your ribs and pounding loudly in your ears as your breaths come out in short, rough pants. Your pussy clenches around nothing and it drives you insane. It hurts.
You experiment with different paces and pressures, trying to figure out the best way to get yourself off like this, but none of it works. You could grind yourself against him all you wanted— you needed something to fill you.
You take a deep, shuddering breath, tongue darting over your dry lips as you swallow around the lump in your throat.
"Colonel, Sir", you wail, voice turning into a whine laced with tiny hiccups, "It’s, fuck, it’s not enough… It hurts so bad, I want– need more."
"Oh look who’s begging so sweet, even calling me sir now. And all that just because you want to get your little hole stuffed? How cute."
Your hands attempted to touch him, to feel him, to move— anything, so you reach behind yourself to grab his cock. He’s hard as a rock beneath his boxer briefs, your thumb brushing over a little wet patch that had formed on the thin fabric and you physically shudder when you feel his length up and down. He was big, so fucking big that it made your mouth water, mind going blank by the sheer thought of taking his whole size and getting fucked dumb on it.
"Yes, yes please fuck me, please sir", you begged him. Your breath hitched as you continued to move back and forth on his stomach, setting a rhythm that you hoped would ease the burning heat in your core for just a moment. Of course it didn’t.
"See, that’s much more how I prefer you, begging like the needy little slut that you are", Quaritch told you grinning. The grip he had on your hips begins to loosen the more you move, his hands slowly guiding you, setting a new pace for you, until he’s in complete control of your movements. He moves your body along to the rhythm that you desire and your face twists with pleasure as you moan with complete abandon, while your wet pussy slides across his abs.
Behind your back, your hands fumble with his boxer briefs, ready to pull them down to take what you were yearning for, but before you could do so, Quaritch makes your hips come to an abrupt halt. You whine at the loss of friction and just as your about to reach for his cock again, one of his hands snaps to your wrist, stopping you.
You were powerless, putty in his hands and the Colonel clicks his tongue, voice deep and thick as he tells you, "Yeah, no, that’s not gonna happen."
You pause.
With your eyes widening at his words, chest heaving from the way you tried to calm yourself, you gasp, "What? why?"
"Because it‘s not gonna fit, cupcake", he chuckles and the sound alone is enough to make you physically shiver, "In case you haven’t noticed, I might be a little too big for such a small thing like you."
A whine of complain bubbles up your throat, but it’s quickly hushed when Quaritch pulls you forward until your face is shoved against his chest and you’re breathing in his rich scent. His hands had abandoned your hips by now, sliding over the arch of your spine and feeling the soft curve of you ass. Grabbing a handful of your cheeks, he kneads and spreads them apart, revealing your glistening wet folds to the chilly air of his room.
One of his hands then shift and you gasp, feeling his long, rough digits tease your slit. He groans right next to your ear, "So fucking wet, aren’t you? Your little hole is so desperate to get stuffed, can feel you clenching around nothing."
"T-Then fill it", you mumble quietly, the sound muffled against the muscular pecks of his chest.
He circles your weeping hole, taunting you, then plunges a lone finger inside and you moan a sigh of relief. It’s easy, oh so easy, for him to slip in. He thought it would be harder, given the fact that one of his fingers was equal to two or even three human ones. But you’re so wet that your pussy practically swallows him right in.
Unfortunately, it barely dampened the oppressive heat you were experiencing.
"This will have to do", Quaritch tells you with a stoic face and his ears pinned back, knowing damn well that this was not what you meant when you told him to fill you.
"More. I need more", you cry, wriggling in his hold to force more of his finger inside you, until the palm of his hand was flat against your pussy and the tip of his finger was teasing your cervix. "M’so empty. Need you to fuck me. Please, please, please", you beg like a broken record and he rolls his eyes.
"This or nothing, kid. You choose. I‘m not gonna rip you in two just because you’re too horny to think straight."
He tightens the grip on your ass, squeezing the plump flesh. His other hand begins to move, thrusting his finger in and out of you so painfully slow, it felt like your brain was overheating.
"Noo", you whine, "it’s not enough!" You squirm in his arms, your face shoved against his chest while you wriggle your butt in the air, desperate for him to do something, anything to make you feel better. You would take it, you knew you could handle it.
A sudden sting snaps you out of your little tantrum, feeling your tight hole getting stretched further as Quaritch forces a second finger inside you. You gasp, but instantly melt under his touch. You knew recoms were big, obviously. But two of Quaritchs fingers were equal to the size of a regular human cock and you became very much aware of that fact in this second.
"That enough for you, you spoiled girl?" He scoffs, shifting his hand so he could rub circles on your swollen clit with his thumb.
You could only hum and nod as he buries his fingers inside you up to his knuckles, curling them and feeling the rough calluses as he prods inside you in search of that sweet, special spot. When a loud moan lets him know he had found it, he begins to thrust his digits into you, setting a fast pace. His palm smacked against your wet folds, fingers creating loud squelching noises as he fucked you with them and the feeling of your juices running down his wrist actually had him grinning like the smug bastard that he was.
Quaritch was drinking up every sweet little moan and gasp he elicited out of you like this.
That’s what you were– sweet. Eye candy, sweet to touch and taste and feel. Sweet even in the way you cling to him, use him to relieve the affliction between your legs he accidentally caused. And if you weren’t such a bratty bitch all the time, he would’ve maybe done this sooner. It’s not like there was anything else to do out here. It could’ve been so much more fun, if it wasn’t for your smart mouth and the way you were getting on his last nerves all day and night. If only you would’ve behaved, just be a good girl for him, he could’ve used the past couple of days to stretch you out real nice, slowly get you ready to take his cock.
But no, instead you had to act like a sassy teenager and now he couldn’t give you what you so desperately wanted. You couldn’t take him, not even with the amount of slick pooling out of your sweet little pussy. Not that you deserved his cock anyways.
“Oh my god, don’t– don’t stop", you moan, cursing under your breath and he doesn’t. He fingers you in exactly the same way he would fuck you. Hard and fast and deep enough to feel so incredibly full of him.
"You’re almost there, cupcake. So close, aren’t you?", you hear him snicker, his chin coming to rest on top of your head, "You’re gonna cum on my fingers, yeah? Make a real mess on them."
You’re nodding frantically, chanting his name under your breath and it becomes higher in pitch the closer you get to your release. One of your moans gets caught in your throat when he uses his other hand to give your ass a firm spank.
"Oh fuck", you gasp, pussy beginning to pulse as your eyes roll back into your skull and he knows you’re close, so he makes it his mission to have you coming all over his stomach. Your legs begin to tremble when he pumps his fingers into you faster and you slowly become restless on top of him, trying to move away from his hands but at the same time moving back to get them deeper inside. Quaritch grabs your ankle to keep you still and then a third finger comes to tease your already sensitive hole.
"But you have to ask for permission first, alright?", Quaritch chuckles and your brows furrow, "Ask me real nice, maybe add a little 'sir' and I’ll make you cum so fucking good. How’s that sound, hm?"
Fuck him. Fuck him and his smug attitude and fuck this damn plant that caused all of this. And if you weren’t so close, if it didn’t feel so fucking good, if it didn’t ease the pain and the unbearable heat inside you– you would’ve told him that. It’s the last coherent thought your fucked out brain can produce before everything in your mind goes blank.
"Please, please, please can I cum? Fuck, can I cum, sir? Please I need to cum so bad", you sob into his chest. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek and you’re so close, you had no idea if you would even be able to hold it in, if he would’ve told you no. Thankfully, thank god or whoever was responsible for his next decision, he plunges a third finger inside you, stretching you out the absolute maximum of your physical abilities.
"C‘mon kid, that tight little pussy can’t take much more. Cum for me." Quaritch watches, eyes half-lidded, while your face mirrors your body, scrunching up and then sobbing with relief as endorphins drown your nerves. You mewl his name, moaning and cursing, your body sparkling with exhilaration.
He seizes the opportunity and wedges a hand between your spread legs, playing with your clit until you scream and a warm gush of your slickness drips all over his hands, flooding between your bodies and coating his stomach where you straddled him.
"There you go, there you fucking go", he groans and his words send an extra shudder down your spine. His fingers curl inside you just right, thrusting in and out for the final time and you bite on your tongue in order not to whimper, as you were on the verge of feeling overstimulated.
"Filthy girl, look at the mess you’ve made", the Colonel laughs when he finally pulls his digits out of your sopping cunt. You’re tempted to tell him to shut up and go fuck himself, but the second his hands leave, you can feel the feverish heat creep up your core once again, spreading all over your limbs and clouding your head in a thick fog.
Propping yourself up with your palms on his chest, you look at him with glossy eyes. Quaritch grins at you, with the pointy tips of his canine showing, as if he already knew what was going on inside you.
"Open up", he then tells you and a questioning look graces your flushed face. You blink at him a few times, before your gaze lands on his hand, hovering just inches from your face. It’s shining with your arousal and you blush deeply. Still, you don’t hesitate to open your mouth like he told you to, so he can push two his digits past your plump lips. The taste of your own cum floods your tongue, only adding further to the heat between your thighs as you suck on his index and middle finger.
The Colonel hums, his eyes fixed on your mouth, fingers prodding at your warm tongue, "You’re not feeling any better, aren’t you?" To which you draw your eyebrows together, looking up at him like a lost puppy and shake your head.
"Hmm, what could we do about that?" He tilts his head, fingers retreating from your mouth to let you speak. You watch him with wide eyes, as he pops them into his own mouth, licking them clean from any spit and cum.
Swallowing your dignity, or whatever was left of it, your gaze lands back on his eyes, big yellow orbs piercing right through your soul, eating you alive, as he looks at you like you were the most delicious meal on the planet. "Could you… could you help me out?", you mumble, cheeks turning into an even darker shade of red, "just one more time. Please, sir."
"I don’t think one more time is gonna be enough for such a needy little brat like you. But we can try", he chuckles darkly, "As long as you keep begging like that."