The office of Third Reich was a grand room, with dark wood paneling and heavy velvet drapes that hung like shadows in the corners. A large desk dominated the space, and behind it sat Third Reich, nervously fidgeting with a stack of papers. His hands shook slightly as he tried to organize the mess of documents before him.
The door opened, and a servant entered, offering a cup of tea. Third accepted gratefully, his parched throat eager for the soothing warmth. The servant left, and Third took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
The door swung open once more, revealing Soviet, tall and imposing in his military uniform. Third stood, trying to compose himself as Soviet strode across the room. Soviet took a seat in front of the desk, his piercing gaze locked on Third.
Third tried to speak, his voice coming out as a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Soviet, I'm glad you could make it," he said, trying to sound confident.
Soviet raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, Third. I wouldn't miss your invitation for the world," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Third's face heated up, and he stammers out a response. Soviet laughed, the sound low and rumbling. "You're always so cute when you're nervous, Third," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Third's face flames even brighter, and he tries to change the subject. "I have some...business to discuss with you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Soviet leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "Go on," he says, his tone challenging.
Third takes a deep breath and launches into his proposal, his words tripping over each other in his haste. Soviet listens, his expression unreadable, until Third finishes speaking.
Soviet stands, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I think we can come to an agreement, Third," he says, his voice low and seductive.
Third's heart races, and he can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at Soviet's words. Soviet leans down, his face inches from Third's. "But first, I think we should celebrate," he says, his breath warm on Third's face.
Third nods, unable to speak, as Soviet's lips crash down on his. The room fades away as Third gives himself over to the burning passion that Soviet ignites in him.
Soviet's hands roam over Third's body, his touch setting off sparks of pleasure. Third's fingers tangle in Soviet's hair, pulling him closer.
"You're mine now, Third," Soviet growls, his voice husky with desire.
Third shivers, his body trembling with need. "Yes," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
Soviet's lips trail down Third's neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Third moans, his head falling back as Soviet's hands slip beneath his shirt.
The room is filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the air thick with desire. Soviet's touch is confident, his movements sure as he strips Third bare.
Third's hands fumble with the buttons of Soviet's uniform, his fingers clumsy with excitement. Soviet chuckles, his voice low and amused. "Let me help you with that," he says, his voice dripping with sensuality.
Soviet's uniform falls to the floor, revealing his muscular body. Third's breath hitches as he takes in the sight of Soviet, his body on fire with desire.
Soviet's lips claim Third's once more, their bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace. The world fades away as they lose themselves in each other, their bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time itself.
As the sun sets, casting long shadows across the room, Third and Soviet lay tangled together, their bodies sated and their hearts full.
"I look forward to our future together, Third," Soviet murmurs, his voice soft and intimate.
Third smiles, his heart swelling with love. "As do I, Soviet," he replies, his voice filled with promise.
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