Your Too Sweet [Konigx Reader] ||UnknownRabbit||

Chapter 25

A/N: Officially i have sorted some few things. Honestly, I had been lost how to weave some segments into the original story which it took much longer than expected deadline. But now I figured!

Please forgive me for some story plots that went black hole or some parts where there should be more, i probably forgot it and if I can with my time, I'll reread it back. I will write it closely to what I remember. 

Also thank you for the 2K+ reads! IM SO HAPPY! 

25/30

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Konig's POV 

Meeting in session but all information drowned by the sound of my headset, her.

Moaning.

Fuck.

If anyone could see what is on my screen they'd think I'm porn watching.

"Remember, vigilantes are planning to attack, we need to keep the city border secured and keep civilians safe."

Did she just put the bear at the side of her bed?

It has a clear view of her and that man she is frolocking in her bed. Something in me tightened and wanted to combust and something other than my boiling blood rushed to different place.

Seriously? Getting hard on watching her getting fucked, while I'm here listening to a boring ass meeting about vigelante going to attack and a possible siege.

– Wait what?

"Riley?"
A voice cuts in—maybe Price, maybe someone else. I don't register it. Because she just looked at the camera. Dead in the lens. Eyes glazed, lips parted, a sheen of sweat on her brow.
She knows.

That bear's not facing the bed by accident.
She fucking wants me to see this.

"Riley, you still with us?"

I unmute my mic, hoping my voice doesn't betray the war happening below the belt and behind my ribs.
"Yeah," I croak. "Still here."

The room continues its dull murmur of logistics and defense strategy, but I'm not listening. Not really.
Because on my screen, she's being ruined—legs spread, hands clinging to sheets, hips arching to meet every slow, deliberate thrust of the man between her thighs.

But it's not him I'm watching.
It's her.

The way she opens her mouth without a sound.
The way her fingers brush the bear's paw—my bear—the gift I left as apologies to her– like it's some damn totem anchoring her while she gets fucked.

I shift in my seat, jaw clenched so tight it might snap.

Why the hell is this turning me on?

Why does it feel like she's moaning for me?

I should close the stream. Kill the feed. Toss the damn laptop across the room. But my hands don't move. I'm rooted.

Frozen.

Watching her fall apart in real time, while talking about fucking perimeter security.

A voice drags me out again. "Riley, got input on the Western checkpoint?"

"Yeah," I say, without hesitation. "Lock it down tight."

And still, I don't look away from the screen.