Under Command

Leon couldn’t say exactly why he had joined Special Forces. After Raccoon City, any sane man would’ve had his fill of the weird and the paranormal. And Outworld, the Netherrealm, Black Dragon, not to mention all the ninjas and monks he was still getting straight—it made the Umbrella Corporation’s shenanigans look downright neighborly. 

He had certainly spent enough time as a hero to know he didn’t like it. No amount of thrills or glory or, God forbid, riches were worth the pain, fear, the prospect of death at worst, and at best seeing people he cared about lose their lives.

So what was it? Why sign up to be on the hit-list of Quan Chi, Shinnok, and Shao Khan? Ego? 

Was it ego to know that he could keep his head in a crisis, that his hands wouldn’t shake when he pulled a trigger, that he could defend himself and that made him a wall in front of the people who couldn’t? Maybe, but egotistical or not, it was a rare quality. Rare enough that Special Forces was also recruiting Hollywood stars and Shaolin monks. So, until they found someone better able to do the job, he’d do it himself.

At any rate, if he didn’t do it, the world was likely to end. That didn’t make for a tempting retirement plan.

Cassie Cage, on the other hand, was something of an enigma there. Not that he wasn’t sure she could handle herself. Cassie was like Special Forces royalty, descended from two survivors of the initial Mortal Kombat tournament. 

But she didn’t have any nasty trauma in her background, nothing to convince her that this was the life she was best-suited for, except maybe having Sonya Blade for a mother. After that, she’d taken to Special Forces training like a fish to water. It was no wonder she’d made Commander, even when she looked young enough to go to prom still.

Of course, looks was a loaded word when it came to Cassie. As tough as she was, she looked like pure sex. She was short and slender, but not actually thin. Lithe muscle accentuated her curves, her planes, her hollows, giving her a becoming thickness. Only enhanced by how her firm breasts swelled out from her long, lean chest. Full hips and a curvaceous ass rolled out from the dimples of her lower back and her toned thighs. Yeah, she was trim alright, but she packed a lot of curves into that small package. 

And what the skintight bodysuit didn’t show off, her afterhours wear certainly did. When she woke him at eleven PM, banging on his door like she was testing whether she could knock it down, she wore yoga pants and a sports bra. That was all she wore, unless you wanted to count a pair of Crocs.

“Commander,” Leon said respectfully once he’d cracked the door.

“Is this what commanders dress like?” Cassie asked him, smacking her lips on a wad of gum. “It’s afterhours, Leon. Loosen up.”

“You came to the wrong room for that. Never been much good at it.”

“Plan B, then. The two of us go to the sparring room and go a few rounds.” Cassie cocked her head to the side, regarding him. “Unless you were sleeping.”

Leon had been—for the most part—as well as he ever did. Even now, he was wearing only drawstring pants. Cassie’s eyes traipsed over his biceps and triceps with professional appraisal.

“Sixty seconds,” Leon told her, going to grab a hoodie and relieve himself. He filled a blender bottle with ice water too, drinking from it on the way to the gym with her.

Inside the gym—abandoned, almost desolate in its emptiness at this time of night—Cassie wrapped her hands. Leon taped his own. 

“So, you can’t sleep?” he asked her.

“Maybe I can. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I don’t feel like I’ve earned a day’s wages unless I’ve seen some action.”

“Couldn’t sleep without beating me up. I’m flattered.”

Cassie had moved on to stretching. “Don’t feel too special. Jacqui isn’t here.”

Leon limbered up himself, cracking the sleep out of his bones. “What about Takeda or Kung Jin?”

Cassie blew a bubble with her gum, then smirked as she sucked it back into her mouth. “Maybe they don’t need as much practice as you.”

“Maybe you just know better than to underestimate them.”

Cassie kicked off her Crocs. “What, you think I only came to you because I want to beat the crap out of someone?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not going to.”

“Willing to bet on that?”

Leon considered it. He was six feet tall and a svelte hundred and sixty pounds. Cassie was a head shorter than him and even lighter, maybe one twenty-five. A cheerleader, not a powerhouse. She had skill, but so did he. He wouldn’t bet the family business, but if this was Vegas, he knew who the safe money would be on.

“If you’re in the mood to live dangerously,” he said.

“Oh, always,” Cassie retorted. “I’ve watched all my dad’s movies, haven’t I?”

Leon assumed a fighting stance. Cassie mirrored him. Treat this like a battle. Those had been Cassie’s words to him when he first stepped into the training ring. 

It wasn’t the most accurate aphorism. Everyone Leon knew in Special Forces used guns, batons—Cassie even had a drone. But in the ring, they prepared for some oddball scenario where they didn’t have any equipment, despite the fact that Leon was pretty sure the whole Cage family was a walking arsenal. So all this practice was for some exercise where a tango took them captive and stripped them of all their weaponry, but didn’t kill them outright or even bind them. 

But maybe Leon was biased. Not many mutant crocodiles signed up for fighting tournaments in his experience, but in Special Forces lore, who didn’t? Leon was sure he’d caught a glimpse of a cowboy somewhere in the archives…

So now he charged at Cassie, treating this like he really did have to take her down. Even though all that was at stake was his pride and Leon considered himself a humble sort. 

Cassie took it just as seriously, though. First turning his charge aside with a roundhouse kick that he blunted with his shoulder. It still hurt like hell. Then sidekicks chopped at his calves and thighs, trying to fell him like a lumberjack taking down a tree. 

Leon defended, raising his leg so they hit muscle on muscle, not letting her get to his delicate knee ligaments. Cassie went in with more kicks, counting on her long legs to keep him at a distance, where his superior strength would be useless.

“You trying to rock me to sleep, Leon?” Cassie goaded him.

“Sure. Just hold still.”

Leon blocked, blocked, looking for an opening, but Cassie’s kicks were chipping away at his defense, so he decided to make an opening. He rushed her despite the pain of tanking through her kicks, shrugging off a knee to his gut that rearranged his insides, but managing to catch her in his arms and bear her down to the ground. 

Then it was all wrestling. Much as it pained his sore innards, he slipped around her like greased lightning, chaining her up in a submission hold. Cassie fought it, but it was like a ragdoll trying to object to being played with. A triangle led into a biceps slicer and he had her, he could tell by how Cassie breathed out in a hateful sigh. She tapped and Leon let her go. Both of them rolled to a rest on the mat.

“Fuck!” Cassie growled, lying on her back. “You really are good.” She took a deep inhalation, luxuriating in breathing unimpeded. “If you were Shinnok, I’d’ve had you.”

“How many times did you shoot him in the face?”

“Are you suggesting I’m no good without my guns?” Cassie asked. “For your information, I’m descended from a long line of Mediterranean wizards. So there.”

“Thanks for not casting magic missile on me.”

“You’re too nice. I’d feel like a bully. Besides, I’d hate to wreck that pretty face.”

Lying next to her, Leon shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to wreck your face either. But if I didn’t give you my all, you’d take it personally.”

“Yeah. So, you fucking beat me.”

Leon heard a rustle of fabric. Turning, he saw Cassie push-pulling her pants down her legs, kicking them off. She didn’t wear underwear.

“Cassie…?”

“You beat me,” Cassie reiterated. “You won the bet. You know what that means.”

“I… don’t.”

Cassie rolled over, perfectly landing so she had mounted him. He felt her thighs around his torso, her bare ass on his stomach, the soft scratch of her pubic hair above his navel. Leon instinctively started to sit up, but Cassie pinned his shoulders down to the ground, putting her full weight on his bruised muscles. He groaned painfully and, for the moment, didn’t resist. 

Despite his victory, Cassie had some real strength. If she didn’t hold back, a fight could go either way. But then, he was getting the impression that Cassie hadn’t gotten him out of bed for a fight.

Cassie towered over him, her firm ass on his chest with just enough weight to make it hard for him to breathe if he weren’t in such good shape. “You kicked my ass, Kennedy. Fair and square. Pretty simple stakes, too: winner gets to eat my pussy.”

“Why do I get the feeling that if I’d lost, loser would have to eat your pussy?” Leon asked.

Cassie smirked. “You’ve got a good grasp of strategy going on. Keep it up, you might have a command role in your future.”

She kept moving up his body, putting her knees beside his ears, her toes digging into his ribs as if she were riding him. She was straddling his face now, forcing him to look at her bare cunt. It was shaved, bubblegum pink, which just made him think of the bubbles she blew. 

“Fighting turns me on. Gets me so hot I need a release. But getting me off is a turn-on too. Maybe if you do a good enough job, I’ll be horny enough to suck your cock. Ever see me spit out my gum? No. Know why that is?” Cassie gulped. “I swallow.”

The obscene words coming from Cassie’s sweet, girlish face jolted Leon, in spite of all the evidence he already had that she was nowhere near as innocent as she looked. With her atop his face, he felt like an ant looking up at a goddess. He could see all of her slender, graceful torso, her tautly muscled belly a gently valley before the soft undulation of her chest. Even in her sports bra, she was a sensual study in curves and shadows. Her nipples stiffly pointed through her bra, while her belly button was a dark hollow. She lifted herself up one more time, showing him the neat slit of her pussy, unbelievably inviting in its stark simplicity.

“You feel free to swallow too,” Cassie said, lowering her cunt to his face. With her weight off her hands, she brought them to her cuntlips, spreading them and releasing the richly enticing scent of her arousal. 

“Jesus,” Leon moaned. Loose as his pants were, his erection was making them far too tight. 

Holding her pussy open with one hand, Cassie reached down with the other, tangling her fingers in his hair. She pulled him up to her sex, until his mouth was right against her hot little slit, drowning him in her taste, her aroma. After that, there was no deferring her, no more questioning. It was clear that this was what she wanted and any resistance he put into not being seduced was wasted effort. 

Leon opened his mouth, letting his tongue out, finding it immediately inther wet cunt. Instantly his senses were filled with her taste, not so much sweet as intense, strong and bold, just like her. But not a bad taste. He ran his tongue along the walls of her pussy, liking the flavor more the more he tasted of it. Although his attention was now off his erection, he was still sharply aware of how stiff he was—a delicious ache in his distant endowment. 

Cassie held him against her gushing sex, determined to keep him there now that the pleasure had started. He lapped at her tender pussy, licking up her flowing juices. Leon could sense Cassie writhing above him, somehow feel how taut she was with sexual ecstasy. He looked up to see her expression contorted with lust. His tongue twisted deep into her rippling pussy; his chin pressed into her folds. 

“My clit!” Cassie gasped, struggling against her overwhelming bliss as if to deliver vital information. “Suck my clit! Suck it until I come—suck it, suck it, suck it!” 

She emphasized her orders by twisting her hands, pulling at his head, and Leon had to wrench his neck to overcome her grip and get to her clitoris as she asked. He felt out the smooth bud with his lips, opened them, and captured the tiny nubbin. Then, he sucked it hard, pulling it forcefully against his teeth.

Cassie thrashed around, writhing and twisting with every jolt of pleasure she felt. Her cream flooded Leon’s mouth as she came. He was getting her off with his mouth, bringing her to orgasm, and as much as Cassie had been the aggressor in this encounter, Leon felt a crazed sense of power himself. 

He was the one who had brought her off. He was responsible for the ecstasy that she could barely take, that was driving her wild, and by making her lose control, it was like he was controlling her. The whole thing was such a crazy tangle of aggression and surrender that he couldn’t make heads or tails of the dynamic, but then, it didn’t really matter. All that counted was the exquisite rapture that Cassie had obviously felt, which he had enjoyed giving to her as well.

Cassie didn’t let go of his hair until her orgasm was all over. With his neck muscles sore from being corded so long against her pulling, Leon let his head thump back down onto the floor mat. Cassie fell backwards, reclining onto his supine body until her head hit his thigh. He felt her juices cooling on his face, their smell clinging to him and filling his nostrils. 

Then Cassie turned her head to the side. He felt her nuzzling her face against his ill-concealed erection, rubbing it through his pants.

“Well, someone had a good time,” Cassie teased. “I wouldn’t have considered that foreplay, but I guess it was for you. And as your commanding officer, here’s the part where I commend you for following orders to. The. Letter.”