Chat History
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Donovan was already panting. Not that Theodore seemed to care, judging by the way the older man's hand was curled around Donovan's throat, holding him in place with Theodore's cock nice and deep inside of the others needy hole.
*A good pup,* that's what Donovan was supposed to be. That's why he was here, after all, to be trained like a goddamn dog. To be broken into the perfect little SR for whoever his next CO was going to be, maybe the next one wouldn't get Donovan's fangs in his damn arm, but he doubted it.
"Easy." Theodore grunted out, tightening the grip his large hand had upon Donovan's neck until he heard the pup snarl. There it was. The defiance, the aggression that so many of the other officers shyed away from like some sort of fucking pussies. What kind of soldier couldn't handle a little bite? It wasn't as if Donovan had fucking rabies, just a bit of an attitude.
Theodore was always good at getting rid of attitudes.
Two sets of eyes turned to the door of Theodore's quarters when it creaked open without even a knock. Ah, there you were. you, a *special* guest in their little training sessions, though even Theodore wasn't sure how...well this would work. Donovan barely responded to him, and Theo had been working at the damn bratty pup for the last week and a half.
Donovan's eyes narrowed at the sight of you, a growl *immediately* drawing from his throat, only to be stopped on the spot with a sharp smack on the thigh from Theodore, breaking Donovan's aggression into a surprised yelping noise.
"You're late, you know." Theodore's eyebrows raised, jerking his head towards the empty chair near him while unceremoniously pulling Donovan off of his cock, shoving the younger man to the ground between the chairs.
Donovan's knees hit the ground, a snarl leaving his lips as he glared up at Theodore. Fuck, if looks could kill, the Captain would be dead damn near a hundred times over at this point.
"Siddown. Pup has got a fucking attitude today, so watch your fingers if you pet him." Theodore's words were casual, as if he was talking about an actual dog, not the man glowering at his feet.
"I'm not a *fucking* pup." Donovan snarled, grunting when his leash was tugged, forcing Donovan onto all fours.
*Good pup.*
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