Chapter Text
You had been working at KorTac for years, but your recent promotion meant far more interaction with higher-ups in the company. You’re good at dealing with people, at least professionally, so this never worried you… until you realised just how much time you’d be working with a certain infamous Colonel. Colonel König was so many things: a giant of a man, yes; terrifying and aggressive at times too; a ridiculously hard-worker who didn’t like to see anyone shirking their duty… but something about him attracted you, even when it seemed to turn all others away from him. In the field he had always worn a mask, and you were glad that now he split his time between training recruits and desk work he spent more time out of that mask; he was surprisingly handsome, for one who covered his face so often. His nose may have been broken too many times to fix, and he may have been covered in scars from head to toe, but his icy blue eyes, strong jawline, and most obviously his huge, muscular frame were all incredibly attractive to you. The contrast with your husband was all too obvious, König was everything your husband wasn’t. König was, in all senses, a strong man.
Perhaps that was why you found yourself unconsciously going to König’s office a little too often. Of course, you always took some paperwork, some procedural question, found some excuse - you weren’t stupid enough to go in there on a social call, and waste the Colonel’s precious time - but you probably didn’t need to go to him every time you did. You didn’t need to linger at the edge of his desk, standing close to his chair, as he showed you on his screen whatever it was you had asked about. You never touched him, or said or did anything that could be construed as inappropriate; you were the height of professionalism. You just enjoyed being near König, near enough to smell the scent of him - tar soap, clean and almost clinical, with a hint of something almost spice-like, perhaps a cologne? He didn’t seem like a cologne kind of guy though, so maybe it was just his deodorant? Either way, that scent became a part of him, a part of your fantasy of König… you would smell it when he walked by you, or surreptitiously enjoy it when you stood at his shoulder behind his desk.
You would never tell anyone the thoughts you had about König in the dark of night, when your husband had fallen asleep in front of the TV, and you lay alone in bed. How you’d dream of that scent enveloping you as you kissed your way down König’s neck, or even left a bite mark on his huge chest… The thoughts had even begun invading your days, unable to be contained and restricted to the lonely nights. Sometimes when you stood at his desk you imagined it, how you could slip behind the desk, straddle those vast thighs, and grind in König’s lap until he needed more from you. Maybe he would snap, and have you splayed out on top of those open files of paperwork, looming above you, taking whatever he wanted from you. It was only when you became so lost in the fantasy that König had to repeat his instructions that you managed to drag your mind back to reality with an earnest apology for your distraction. You listened to the instructions the second time around, and returned to your desk desperately trying to ignore the wetness between your thighs, determined to make König proud of your work, at least, since you couldn’t possibly make your fantasies a reality.
You had no idea that König, the silent, stoic colonel, all business and manly agression, was having similar thoughts about you. When you’d first been promoted to his team, he had hoped you would be a useful asset, no more thought in his head about you than that… and then he had actually met you. It was your eyes, that was what had done it. That first day, as you stood in front of him, so much smaller than he was, gazing up as he shook your hand in welcome… the way those pretty eyes had widened, your pupils all wide, making your eyes dark and sparkling. He had wanted to drop to his knees that very moment and beg for you to be his… and then he had seen the thin silver bands on your finger, the tiny little diamond in one of them… and all those dreams he had begun the moment he’d looked into your eyes had come crashing down.
He tried to resist it, but unwillingly, his eyes kept flickering towards you whenever they could. König used to keep his office door closed, not wanting to be disturbed while he worked. He had realised though that if the door remains open, and he angled his chair just right, he had the perfect view of you at your desk. Of course, now that he knows you’re married, König wouldn’t dream of trying anything… but he could still look, couldn’t he? He watched with greedy eyes as you walk across the room to another woman’s desk - König couldn’t quite remember her name, now, and probably never would - especially when you laid your forearms on her desk to speak quietly, bending over, and giving him a view of your perfect curves presented for him. Unbidden, the image of you similarly bent over a desk filled his head; his desk this time, and preferably with that tight skirt you’re wearing pushed up around your waist… the door would definitely be shut, but that wouldn’t be enough to muffle the moans of pleasure he’d draw out of you, while he fucks you over the wooden surface. He can almost see the scratch marks from your nails in the desktop.
König cleared his throat, shook the filthy images from his head, and tried to ignore the sudden tightness in his clothing beneath the desk. He opened a file on his computer, and did his best to focus on the words on the screen, rather than the pornographic movie that refused to stop playing in his mind. His gaze flickered back to you briefly as you stood up from your colleague’s desk, flipping your hair back over your shoulder as you straighten up. Sheiße! What he wouldn’t give to have his hand tangled in that hair, dragging your head back to expose your pretty little throat for his lips, his teeth. He would love to mark you with bites and bruises, soft skin that declared all over that you belonged to him… but you didn’t belong to him, did you? And you never could. This was a passing fantasy, an infatuation, just a result of sexual frustration; he couldn’t remember the last time he had fucked so much as his own fist, let alone an actual woman. Fists clenched on the desktop, König drove those filthy thoughts of you from his head, and returned to his work.
You would never cheat on your husband, no matter how neglected you might be by him, and no matter how attractive your colonel is. König would never touch another man’s wife; there is honour among assassins, of a kind, and he’s not about to sully that. Perhaps, if you ignore the feelings bubbling within you both, eventually these silly crushes will fizzle and fade… Until then, you’ll have to keep your dirty little fantasies to yourselves, won’t you?