#statedinnerfashionchallenge2022

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Of course that I left the Tiara moment for my birthday month, because it's my party and I want to pretend that I can attend one.

Let your immagination run wild.

What are you wearing? OK, I'm gonna need y'all to work with me here, because us enlisted degenerates don't have an equivalent of "white tie," and I'll be damned if I'm not flexing my Big US Navy D*ck Energy at a fancy dinner (also, use your imagination; the cummerbund for my rank would be black, and the buttons would be silver).

Are you married to a royal? Are you married to a politician? Not married to anyone, but Sea Duke and I fuck are relationshipping on the down low and there is nothing you can do about it.

Which family is hosting it? The Brits, for the sake of the attached fic making sense (and Sir would have some pull with respect to me attending in the first place).

When is it happening? 🤷🏼‍♂️ I don't really think about these things. Read the fic if you're dying to know.

Who are you seated next to? (if you pick Princess Michael I am getting worried about your current mental health state) It's finna be weird for me no matter who I'm next to, but ideally I'd be seated across from my emotional support naval officer Sea Duke.

DON'T FORGET TO STICK TO THE FASHIONS OF THE PERIOD (something is telling me that people will get too wild). MY BAD. *unapologetically nests my balls like bald eagle eggs with complete disregard for the space-time continuum*

CW: THERE IS DUDE SEX.

Uniform Kink

“Do you want me to wear it to bed?” he asks, his voice calm despite the offhandedness of the question.

“Huh? What? Wear what?” I hadn’t been paying attention, my thoughts having been occupied with other things, such as the very long list of very raunchy things I wanted to do to him…or receive…when he wore his Royal Navy uniform. It seems I had let my staring linger a bit to long.

“This,” he answers with a slight smirk. “You’ve only been eyeballing me since dinner.”

Oh shit, he had noticed. I usually was better at hiding it, either by using peripheral vision or pretending to be interested in what the guest next to me was saying, staring past them and at him. Everyone had left, the task of tidying up had begun, his wife gone off to get ready for bed (I can’t be certain but I think she winked at us), and it was just the two of us. This was the first time I’d ever wished someone else was in the room, and I’m upset that I didn’t have a reasonable excuse to get myself out of this situation.

My attention now was on my rocks glass, and I absentmindedly swirl what bourbon was left in there, growing more mortified as I felt the familiar sensation of heat gathering at my ears. I take a sip of bourbon, trying to balance between making it look normal and the knee-jerk desire to just knock back what was left back because OH MY GOD THIS ISN’T HAPPENING.

Sea Duke leans a bit closer to me, a smirk on his face. “You know, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.”

He might not have calmed my mild embarrassment, but he at least made me feel less of a need to fight admitting to it, less…silly. Of course he’d have done that at least once with his wife stop being weird!

The combination of his voice, his increased proximity to me, and the imagery I’ve conjured up in my head had a very immediate effect, one that I very much needed him to attend to.

I take a deep breath and finish off my bourbon. “Yes,” I finally admit as I set the glass down. I can see him smile out of the corner of my eye. “I hate that you do that.” I can’t help but crack smile though, because he’s done it again.

He cocks his head to the side and quizzically asks, “Do what?”

“Get me to admit shit like that.”

“Well it’s either we sort this out now, or I find out on tour, when you’ve made it known to the entire wardroom, standing at attention when no one told you to.” He points at the now obvious bulge in my pants, I assume to ensure I understand the joke.

“Fuck sake!” I laugh at his description and the all too realistic probability that that’d be exactly what would happen.

“You needn’t be embarrassed about it,” he says quietly, and begins nibbling my ear.

As a reflex, I take a deep breath, exhaling out my nose, mentally pushing the anxiety out, a wave of calm taking over.

“I’ll ask again,” he says, a hint of arousal in his voice, “do you want me to wear it to bed?”

“Yes,” I answer, a bit unhappy that that came out a bit more of a moan than I intended.

His mission accomplished, Sea Duke ceases his attention on my ear. “Right,” he states, in typical British fashion, before smacking his hands on his thighs. He stands up and straightens out his uniform.

I stand up as well, awkwardly wondering what to do with my empty glass, and, in his opinion, focused too much on where to put it. He clears his throat in that sort of agitated way that officers tend to do, and I instinctively just set my glass down on the coffee table, swallowing the urge to apologize for my squirrely attention span.

“There are more pressing matters for you to focus on,” he says. I look at him a bit quizzically, as I’m the one with obvious evidence of arousal. Sea Duke sighs, feigning derision. “I’ve been wanting your mouth on my dick all night,” he declares, before turning and walking towards his bedroom.

I follow him, perhaps a bit too eagerly, basking in knowing he can’t get enough of me, just as I can’t get enough of him.

He helps get me stripped down to the waist between quick, almost authoritative kisses, backing me up to the edge of his bed. Once I'm bare-chested, he nudges my shoulder and I sit, the anticipation absolutely killing me.

“I haven't even touched you and you're already hard," he says, smirking at me while he unbuttons the last gold button on his uniform jacket.

There's some embarrassment mixed with my (obvious) arousal, but I try to ignore that as I know that's not his intention. If anything, it probably turns him on a bit; I know it'd be a confidence booster to me!

“That makes me wonder how many times you've gotten yourself off to this." Again, this comes not as a statement but more of that tactic officers use when they want answers, but don't want to ask questions directly. He's definitely turned on though; I can hear it in his voice.

“I neither confirm nor deny that," I tell him. Truth is, I lost count long ago.

“It had to have been substantial, given how eager you were for it the first time."

Ah yes, the first time. That, too, was after a fancy dinner...and he was also in his Royal Navy dress blues that time, too. Damn him and his paying attention to these things. I feel my face get hot, this time unable to keep any embarrassment at bay. Even though I wanted it, and want whateverthisis, I still hadn't fully come to terms with it. However, any level of insecurity was easier to deal with than the crushing weight the repression was starting to have on me, to the point where it physically manifested in constantly feeling like it was literally sitting on my chest.

I feel his right hand on my cheek, and then his thumb in my mouth, opening it for what's to come next. I can't help but watch, a bit mesmerized, as he unzips his trousers with his other hand. I feel my dick twitch as he, with a bit of difficulty, gets his free. Even only partially hard, his size is a bit intimidating. Without hesitation, his thumb disappears, and he pushes himself into my mouth, a sigh escaping him as he does so. Ah, it's going to be that type of night; he's more aroused than he'd admit. Either it's coincidence, or he gets as excited as I do about the decision to stay in uniform. I decide not to ask and chalk it up to coincidence, given it's not a secret that he enjoys having me suck him off (we both do, in fact). The prospect of it being the latter, though, aides in my own trousers getting more tight in the crotch...as if that were possible.

Instinctively, I start working him over, taking a more...exploratory approach, shall we say. I've waited a long time for this to happen, and I'll be damned if I don't take time and enjoy it. Sea Duke is less patient, his typical officers' composure betrayed by his unusually frequent sighs, and soft moans. I shift my focus to the head, alternating between licking and sucking, his noises serving as both encouragement and a distraction against the now uncomfortable bulge in my trousers.

“Christ," he sighs. "You had to have done this before."

I pull away from him, wrapping my right hand around his solid 8 inches. "No, you're still the first. None of that has changed," I explain, looking up at him as I rub my thumb around the head. I guess he figures I've had...experiences...while underway that I've not told him about. By now the insecurity has vanished and I'm feeling damn proud of myself for having gotten him in such a state. Usually, he's the more "together" one and it's me just making a racket and failing to make words. I'm not sure if that fact alone gets him more excited, or if he just really needs to cum, but either way, he is ready.

“On your back. Now." That was an order.

I smirk at him, excited for what's about to happen, and also finally I can get some relief! Just listening to him has got me to being annoyed at my own arousal. I do as he says without hesitation. I reach towards the head of the bed and grab a pillow, fluff it, and place it behind my head. With the level of efficiency one would expect from a German (he'll say he's Greek but let's be real here), I'm unceremoniously stripped down the rest of the way, until I'm bare ass naked. Then, his hand is on me.

“Oh fuck yes," I sighed, grateful to finally have contact.

“Reality better than the fantasy?" Sir asks, eyebrows raised and that damn smirk on his face again.

“Yes sir," I answer, my breath hitching as he gives me a squeeze.

“Mmm, I can tell. I wouldn't even have to touch you, would I?"

Indeed he would not. Sea Duke, Admiral of the Fleet, in his blues, his zipper down, his thick dick out and dripping pre-cum, stroking every inch of me in a slow, easy manner that conflicts with his earlier impatience, was even more than I could have asked for.

“N-no sir," I stutter. My stomach muscles tighten as I try to control myself.

“Right then," he chirps, immediately removing his hand. I whine about that, against my better judgement. He leans over me, and I moan as his dick makes contact with mine. It feels heavy and oddly comforting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?" he asks, his voice low and husky with arousal. I could answer, but he's taken to nibbling on my ear, which combined with the motion of his hips is absolute murder on my nerves. I hate him. I hate him for the way he teases me. I hate it but fuck, do I love it.

“Use your words," he says as he grinds against me, his mouth not leaving my ear.

I moan.

He grinds against me again.

“"YES," I blurt out. "Yes sir...god...fuck..." I gasp, nearly finishing right then.

I feel him slowly start to prep me, and as always, he offers his own unique form of distraction.

“I do hope this is a suitable solution to your problem. We would be at sea for months. I take no issue with it but...I don't need the entire wardroom wanting to moor in my port. Although," he stands back up and removes his fingers, "I couldn't blame them for that. You are rather...eager to please." My dick twitches again at his words.

“I like pleasing you," I say, horny out of my mind.

“Mmm you always do," Sir says, easing himself into me, gentle as always, until his entire length is sheathed. He wraps my legs around his waist and strokes me, lazily, while waiting for me to get comfortable, obviously enjoying himself. All I can do is lean my head back and sigh, basking in the slight stinging mixed with intense pleasure. Fuck he's so good to me.

I buck up into his hand, a signal that he can proceed, and he begins to thrust, slowly at first, until he finds the exact angle he needs.

“"I think I like you best like this," he says, smiling at me as he pulls out, then thrusts back in.

I think I like it best, too.

@yeet-didnt-start-the-fire