Flash Fiction: “Interrogation, cont.”

He felt the man’s nose snap under his fist. The grinding feel of bone shards beneath the cartilage is impossible to mistake. As he drew his hand back, Andrew almost winced. He had split the skin over his knuckles ten minutes prior.

As he moved, the scent of her surrounded him again, pushing everything else from his thoughts. He smiled, coincidentally, just as the prisoner looked back up at him. A smile like that on the face of the guy beating the shit out of you is enough to unnerve just about anyone.

The man shuddered with pain and fear. Finally broken, he started talking. Nathan Cromwell, their subject for over a year, finally connected to a shipment of weapons on it’s way to a terrorist organization. Andrew wasn’t paying much attention. Everything was being recorded, anyway, so he let his mind drift while the bastard rattled on.

He and Cass had played their interrogation game for nearly a year now. It had started as a joke one day after he’d finally told her some of what he did for the Army; strictly non-classified.

“I work in intel. A lot of interrogations, questioning, and research.” He had glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

She’d giggled at him, “You don’t look tough enough to interrogate anyone.”

“I have some very effective methods.” He remembered every detail.

Her hair had smelled like peaches and chamomile when he’d shoved her up against the refrigerator. His lips had hovered, almost grazing hers as her faltering voice asked for a demonstration. She was blushing.

He had made her scream that evening for hours. Her voice cascaded around him as he’d touched and stroked and tickled. He recalled her thighs pressed so tightly against his ears, that at some point, even those wild vocal overtures were silenced. Only when she’d collapsed shuddering on the floor, unable to move and struggling for breath, had he finally penetrated.

“Well done, SSG.”

His mind whipped back to reality, and he reached out to shake his CO’s waiting hand.

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