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David's training has been going well. Maybe a little too well, in Miller's opinion, but well nonetheless. The man was talented with a weapon, no doubt - even more so without one, his natural ability to calculate weak points and initiate quick takedowns was admirable. Likely instilled into his genes.
Miller tries not to think about his genes too much. Tries not to think about how he barks at David to shave whenever his beard gets too long, too scruffy. Tries not to think about how he makes sure David gets a proper haircut the moment his hair begins to reach the nape of his neck.
He can't afford any distractions, no, he has a goal to accomplish. David is supposed to be a means to an end.
Although he's not too sure if he still sees David as a weapon, fondness clawing at his heart when he sees the man struggle to pick up on a particular skill, when he's huffing at some tasks Miller assigns him just to harden him up, when he sees him softly petting his two dogs and muttering incomprehensible praise to them. He has a gentleness to him that barely resembles the man he comes from, all rough edges and macho stoicism. If anything, Miller would liken the young soldier to…
Now is not the time to think about such things, no, it was time for David to learn a new lesson - one he's been putting off for long enough.
Miller doesn't bother to raise his voice to call for the soldier anymore. Used to, at first, before he decided to take a page out of an old foe's book and focus on a more psychological approach to his training. There's genuine, instant gratification when he shakes the silver bell and he hears the door to David's small room in his cabin open just two seconds later. It took a few months to get to this point, but it showed David was not above being conditioned - information which could prove useful later.
David comes out and stands upright in front of him, but he doesn't salute or bow, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Miller only needs to narrow his eyes for the soldier to get the hint, taking the offending item out of his mouth and stubbing it in an ashtray nearby - bought specifically for him. How thoughtful.
Miller gives him a nod, and he nods back. Simple.
“Alright,” He starts, and crosses his arms. David must think his elbows are permanently locked into that position from how frequently he forces himself to put his guard up this way, protecting his vital organs like David could take them out with one hit. Vulnerable.
“No matter how skilled a soldier might be, not one has ever gone without being held captive at least once in their lives. You will inevitably find yourself in a situation where you are captured. Held hostage. Maybe even threatened or tortured.” The prelude makes his lesson sound grand, sound more crucial than its truth. While the techniques he plans to teach David are essential, they are… a lifeline, of sorts. A last resort.
David looks extremely attentive, eyes fixated on Miller’s stance. He barely makes eye contact, but when he does the determination in his eyes is obvious, painted over the blue of them.
“There are lots of ways to get out of such a situation, of course. Remind me, David, what do we search for first when we're captured?” Miller sounds expectant, and for good reason - the soldier immediately answers.
“Keys, or a way to get out of any binds.” Miller nods, and gestures for him to go on. David takes a second before understanding, reciting the instructions Miller had given him before word-for-word.
“Find a weapon, find an easy target. Make sure not to arouse suspicion. Behave as well as possible. Find the right time to strike.”
One by one, he ticks off each instruction. Each one was practised in full - David spent two weeks learning how to untie a rope bound around his wrists. Another week learning how to access a knife and cut through it. It took three weeks for him to master the art of pickpocketing, every detail drilled deeply into his brain from the long days of practice.
“Perfect, David,” He praises, and ignores the way the young man's demeanour seems just a little brighter, posture relaxing slightly.
“Now, this last technique I'll teach you is going to be your last resort. When it seems like the odds are completely against you - this can help. However,” His voice sharpens, and he frowns at his understudy, who keeps his stance instead of retracting.
“The success of this technique relies on your ability to stay focused and precise. Your thoughts cannot stray too far from planning your escape, and sure as hell can't get away from the mission.” He can tell David is confused, head tilting slightly in the same way his husky's head turns when he doesn't understand a command aimed at him.
“You need to learn how to seduce if the mission calls for it. Staying hostage won't benefit either of us.”
For the first time, David furrows his eyebrows. Usually he completely understands the reasoning behind every lesson Master Miller introduces to him. But this time…?
“You're telling me I have to pretend like I want to fuck them?” He says, incredulous. Miller only nods, once, twice.
“It's a dirty trick, but it does the job.” The man has the confidence to shrug, and it makes David groan.
“No shit it's dirty - all due respect, Master, but I don't think I'm here to be a pornstar.” He says, gritting his teeth. This was teetering dangerously close to territory he didn't want to explore, or even think about at the moment. In his young twenties, the prime time of his life, the golden years…
“Do you think I'm working my ass off to make you one? Would be a real damn loss to the mercenary business if you were to make the big switch to the adult film industry.” Miller sneers, clenching his fists. He gets the apprehension - but David wasn't a kid, he knows Miller wouldn't mention this if it wasn't highly important.
Sure enough, the young soldier groans and nods after a few moments of hesitation, a red tint on his cheeks that the older man ignores completely (or as much as he can). Miller grunts, leaning down to grab the pair of handcuffs the two usually train with and its adjacent key from the cozy coffee table standing between them.
He doesn't need to say a word for David to offer up his wrists, the clinking of the metal accompanied with the sound of the key turning enticing an immediate response. Conditioned. Miller tries to hide the smirk as he fastens the tight cuffs and clicks them into place, but he thinks it didn't escape the soldier's observant eyes under his bandana.
David tugs, hums in thought when the metal obviously doesn't give. Miller stashes the keys securely in the back pocket of his pants, and then the lesson's on.
“First thing you need to know,” He starts, interrupted by the young man.
“Where the keys are.” He says, and Miller has to hold back a scathing remark at being interrupted. David, for all his intelligence, has had a horrible time understanding the proper consequences of social cues.
“Yes. That's right, soldier,” He grits out, then taps the table.
“Where is it?”
“In your back pocket.” David says, confident.
“Which one?”
A perplexed look flashes onto his face for a few moments before it disappears, shifting into a look of concentration. Miller lets him stew in his thoughts for a few moments, and David answers.
“I don't know.” Truthful.
“Good. You can't make a guess, ever, kid. Everything has to be precise - remember you got everything on the line. One wrong move and you're there with a bullet in your head.” Miller circles around him as he speaks, steps heavy and intentional. He can feel David's intense gaze and steels himself. Training.
His hope that David understands the movement is rewarded with the fact that the man mumbles to himself before answering.
“Your right pocket.” Miller hums at the boldness. Not bad.
“How do you know?”
“Your movements swayed differently than before, as if there was a pressure digging into you on the right. Also, there's a slight bump in the pocket in the vague outline of a set of keys.” He explains his thought process without a shadow of doubt, completely trusting in his own judgement. Miller knows that'll bite the soldier in the ass someday, but he'll let him have his victory this time.
“Excellent, David.” He nods, and turns his body to ignore the way the earlier tint on the soldier grows darker in hue.
“Next, a weapon. Any weapons around?”
“No,” His eyes dart around before pausing. “Wait, no, there is. I can see the shadow of a knife under the couch.”
Miller grunts and flexes his fingers, before crossing his arms again. David was too impulsive still, too quick to jump to conclusions half the time
“Don't assume. Always be aware.” He gives the advice wholeheartedly, shaded eyes staring right into David's trusting ones.
Jesus, how long was it since the last time anyone trusted him like that?
“Alright. Seduce me.”
“What?”
“Keep your mind on the mission, Snake. Seduce me.” He switches to his codename to fully immerse him into the role, the stakes at hand.
“Right…” He trails off, before clearing his throat. He shifts where he stands awkwardly, cuffed hands tugging down at his shirt as he thinks about what to do next. The nerves radiating off him were thick enough to be felt, and Miller almost felt pity build up when David looked up at him with what were presumably his best bedroom eyes that came out looking like a kicked puppy's begging gaze.
Regrettably, the sight does brew interest in his gut. But that's not what he wants to teach the soldier, not the kind of technique that'll work out on the field. They'll just think his David is a pathetic excuse for a supersoldier.
Miller shakes his head, the disapproval etched into every feature in his face. David clearly had absolutely no idea what he was doing, hands laying limply in front of him and standing with his shoulders hunched over. The exact contrast to confidence.
“David,” He sighs, and the soldier groans in frustration.
“I don't know how to do this, alright? I'm… not like you.” While the words were insulting, David's tone communicated nothing but defeat and honesty. And, well, he wasn't wrong. He must've seen the old pictures from his MSF days that he had stowed away deep in his closet, the time characterised by speedos and seduction tactics and suppressing any and all desire for his commander.
Ah, those were the days.
“What, you've never flirted your way into anybody's bed? Give me a break, David, I know you're not a prude. Put your back into it.” He leans in as he spits the words, yet to his shock, David shakes his head. Completely disregarding an order, rejecting it.
Rage brews in him, but before he can act on it and tell David to drop and give him fifty, still handcuffed, the soldier rushes to explain.
“I've never been in anybody's bed, Master.” He admits, shame burning in his veins. Here he stood, in all his inexperience, in front of a man who expected him to be more. David can almost taste the disappointment, can almost feel the embarrassment burn him alive.
Miller was at a loss. All the men he'd trained had been in at least a few sexual escapades, sometimes with fellow soldiers, sometimes with women out in bars. Sometimes even with actual lovers, partners and spouses. Never had he trained a man not only completely out of the loop, but one who needed the experience desperately to advance in the field confidently. How else would he pucker his lips the right way to entice a response? How would he know when to bend and when to twist to provoke the guards into following their animalistic instincts? How else would he be able to drag out vowels and grunt out consonants, building the proper flirtatious quality to his speech?
No, no, David won't be able to do any of this if he had to completely fake it. That would be like rushing into battle a blind and deaf man. Emotions and desires, he can pretend and twist them into things that do not exist. But experience? Nobody can fake experience.
What is he to do, then?
“Master Miller…? Look, maybe I won't need this technique, you realise already how bad I am at picking up subtle hints, I can't even imagine dropping them myself.” David pleads, extending his cuffed wrists back to Miller, as if hoping for salvation. The man shakes his head at the silent request, to the soldier's dismay.
“No, no, you need it. Trust me, it's gotten a helluva lot of guys out of some… pretty sticky situations,” He sighs, rubbing at his face with his flesh hand, the other clanking while he taps his fingers against his palm over and over, building a grounding rhythm. There was a suggestion, nagging at the back of his mind, that he completely banished from his thought. No shot.
David groans, throwing his head back. The embarrassment of the situation burns his face all the way to the tips of his ears. He never wanted anybody to know of his inexperience, and especially not the man who's been training him periodically for years now, a role model of sorts.
The two fall into an uncomfortable silence, both lamenting a different issue. Miller searches for a solution while his understudy searches for a distraction.
“Master,” David speaks, and he sounds hesitant. It's not a common undertone to the soldier's normally stoic voice.
“You're saying all I need is to experience that, right?” The soldier transfers his weight from one leg to the other, hands fiddling. Miller wants to knock some sense into him, for each nervous tic brings him apprehension of his own.
“More or less,” Miller grunts, because this particular subject of conversation was reserved for his buddies back at MSF, over twenty years ago. It's been so long since he's partaken in vulgar locker-room talk. “You can't fake wanting to suck a cock unless you've actually gotten your mouth on one.”
David is obviously taken aback by the words as well, but he keeps his expression neutral.
“You could give me the experience,” He shrugs as he throws out the suggestion into the air. Miller sputters internally, manually steeling his expression into a deep frown accompanied with furrowed eyebrows.
“You want me to…” His cords can barely vocalise the words, and he has to clear his throat midway. Despite all his best efforts he can feel interest stirring, thrumming in his veins. David shrugs in response.
“It's… It's the most reasonable course of action. You taught me that, Master. That I should always look for a solution, no matter how… immoral.” Miller groans. He did teach him that.
In all honesty, he wouldn't trust anybody else to show David what to do. It just… didn't feel right, the idea of skipping over this lesson when it could benefit him, the idea of passing him along to another man to teach him the basics of pleasure.
The idea of letting this opportunity pass. He had always hoped-
No, no. Now was not the time.
Weighing the pros and cons, he feels himself slowly come to a conclusion he didn't want to entertain. David looks at him almost expectantly, eyes half hidden under his bandana. Miller reaches to drag it up his head from where it's slipped down, like he always does, but this time the point of contact between their bare skin electrifies him, and makes the young soldier's breath hitch involuntarily. Expectant.
Miller decides.
“Tell me if you wanna slow down,” He murmurs, and David nods, the gap between his lips enticing as he sucks in breath after breath carefully, afraid the slightest change in the atmosphere could break his resolve.
“You know me, Master,” A dry chuckle leaves him, void of much humour. “I can always match your pace.”
“Not this time, you won't. If you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, David, you tell me. That's an order.” His voice is gravely serious even as he tugs down the zipper of his own pants, eyes digging holes in the soldier even behind their aviators. David swallows, and nods.
“Yes, Master.” Miller groans, the click of a button following. Why did he choose this title?
“Alright. On your knees, soldier.” Obedient as always, he drops to his knees at the command with a quiet thud. Miller nods in approval, and wonders if the young man will even enjoy this as he tugs his half-hard dick out of the hole in his black boxers.
The eagerness in his eyes and the way David's fingers twitch only serve to tell him to never dare doubt the soldier’s desire again. The man remains hesitant, unsure of what to do, until Miller grunts and threads his fingers into his hair, mindful of the cloth wrapped around his head. He brings David's face closer to his length, slowly so as to not startle the soldier.
“Just put your mouth on it. You want tips or something?” Miller jokes, but David looks up at him pleadingly. He sighs.
“Give it a kiss,” The soldier does as told, puckering his lips and kissing the side of his dick once. “Another,” He obeys again.
“Keep going. Always tease, because the longer you stretch this out the more you bring your captor's guard down. No man is capable of holding his ground when his mind's distracted by a hot mouth so near, but not quite around him.” David nods, listening intently as he continues to press kisses to the sides.
“That's it,” He breathes out, and watches David double his efforts at the praise. Miller tries to will his dick to stay down despite the attentive treatment, but it fills with blood steadily anyway, ignorant of its owner's strife. He can see the way David's eyes glaze over as he feels it harden under his lips with each kiss, can feel the way he curiously darts his tongue out to taste for a split second.
“Don't hesitate,” Miller grunts out, and the younger man instantly lets his tongue join the mix, licking up the underside and stopping at the head. “Tease the tip. Focus there for a bit, then stop. That's how you achieve the proper build up for a nasty, rough facefuck, if your guy doesn't care about your voice enough.”
He expects fear when David looks up to meet his eyes after his words, maybe apprehension, maybe disgust. He doesn't expect the hunger David shows without remorse or shame as his tongue flattens against the base of his length and trails up slowly, teasing the slit when he reaches the top just as told. Miller groans at the feeling, fingers tightening where they reside in David's hair.
If he wanted it, then Miller was going to give it to him. He never expected David to want a gentle goodbye to his virginity, and he was only proving Miller's suspicions right. He tentatively brings David's head back, forcing the soldier to look up at him with half-lidded eyes and parted lips, the previously tight headband slipping from its spot, loosened and jostled by Miller’s motions.
Miller grips the base of his length with his prosthetic hand, and aims it at the younger man's lips. He presses the tip against his mouth and paints the lips with a glossy sheen of his pre, groaning at the sight of a thin, connective string once he pulls his hips back slightly.
David licks his lips, breaking the connection, and if Miller wasn't holding his dick it would've twitched pathetically at the sight. He rests the tip on the soldier's bottom lip, knees bending slightly to meet his level.
“Ready?” David closes his eyes, and Miller takes that as a yes, sliding his length into the soldier's pliant mouth inch by inch, lightly panting at the sight of his dick slowly being swallowed by his understudy. The man he's been training for years to become better than him - he wonders if he'll be better than Miller at sucking cock, too.
He lets out a surprised moan as David's lips close around him tightly, and he sucks with all his might, the force of it driving sounds out of Miller. Despite this outward show of pleasure the older man pulls him back and off his dick with a pop, the grip on his hair wringing out a pained moan from the soldier.
“Did I tell you to do that?” He spits out, and despite his enraged tone he can't quite bring himself to be genuinely mad, the look on David's face too honest. Only striving to please.
“No, Master.” He says, and his voice is thick with want, driven deeper by his desire. Hearing him so breathless forces arousal to spike in his abdomen, but he keeps it together.
“Don't do it again. This isn't for pleasure; remember the mission.” He growls out, tugging at David's hair with every word.
“You've got to prolong it. Distract the man for as long as possible until he forgets himself,” He leans back and slides into the soldier's mouth again, gently rolling his hips back and forth into the willing mouth.
“If you- give him space to have a quick pump and dump, you don't achieve anything. And on top of that,” He emphasises this with a hard thrust that has his tip hitting the back of David's throat, making him gag. He forces the soldier off and makes David meet his gaze - ignoring the arousal that hits him to see tears in those eyes.
“You'd have just earned yourself a rep as a whore and nothing more. Not a master of infiltration, or a genius of escape, but just a common whore. Do you want that, David?”
The soldier whines, shaking his head, and the tears brimming at his eyes now only serve to paint a pathetic picture when before they were a symbol of his perseverance. Of his determination to learn despite the novelty of it all, despite his complete inexperience in the field. It's admirable how fast he's learning.
“Good,” He dials back the aggressive approach, now petting David's hair with a gentleness he reserves for his special understudy. “Good boy.”
David moans, and he stills. He raises an eyebrow, before pulling off his sunglasses and folding them with one hand.
“You're doing good,” He tests again, and David stifles a noise, looking away. Huh.
He gives a tiny smirk, but otherwise ignores the newfound information that David's love for praise runs a little deeper than a simple desire to please.
“Master,” He says, and Miller can hear him swallow hard. The older man hums and looks down, the tent in the soldier's sweatpants obvious, a small yet growing stain where the head is imprinted. He snorts, and watches as it fully twitches at the noise.
“You really are a virgin, huh,” He says, and David groans and looks down, ashamed at the statement. Miller sighs.
“C'mon,” He bends down to grip the soldier by the arms, bringing him up to stand. “Sit down, wait,” He instructs kindly, tugging down David’s pants and briefs in one go. He isn't slow, isn't gentle and careful and he can tell that the younger man appreciates it immensely, lifting his hips to help along the way.
David isn't ashamed, even if his dick is leaking where it rests against his stomach and his hands are still handcuffed in front of him. He raises them to Miller again, hoping.
“This isn't really a ‘first time’ kinda thing.” Miller chuckles, shaking his head.
“Remember the mission, David.” He says, putting two fingers to the soldier's mouth. He instantly parts his lips and wets the digits, swirling his tongue around them as much as he can. Miller sighs at the feeling, wishing he would've spent a little more time in David's innocently sinful mouth.
“Ever had anything in you?” He takes them out, before tracing David's entrance with his spit-slicked index finger. He pants, and shakes his head, and Miller can barely hold back the groan that leaves him. His first sexual experience, in every way.
He pushes the finger inside, and leans down to capture David's lips in a slow kiss to distract him from the discomfort of it, tongues meeting with Miller leading. When he leans back to focus on the way he curls his finger, he almost misses the way the younger man's eyes stay wide, too long after the intrusion to be caused by it.
“David?” The confusion in his voice is clear, and it snaps the soldier out of it. He looks up to Miller and laughs, breathless.
“Sorry, it's… Uh, that was my…” Miller stops to insert another finger, dragging it against David's walls, forcing a moan out of him mid sentence. While the sound brought pride blooming in his chest, his curiosity outweighed the feeling.
“Your…?”
“My first kiss.”
“Ah.”
What the hell.
David gives him a sheepish, lopsided smile. Miller curls his fingers and jams them harder inside to wipe the expression cleanly off. That was too intimate. That was not part of the lesson, that was not something he was meant to teach. No guard in his right mind would kiss him. Damn David for being such a complete prude.
A small, traitorous part of him growing larger by the minute filled steadily with possessive pride at the irreversible fact that he’d taken all of David’s firsts. Every single one.
Miller groans, and takes his fingers out. He pushes up David’s legs, making use of the flexibility he’d forced into every tendon the young man had through rigorous training.
“Keep them there. Like that,” He says, nodding when the soldier slides them up his arms to rest on his shoulders. He hisses, right leg twitching for a moment.
“Cold,” He complains, and Miller has to beat the urge to kiss him down to the ground. Instead, he presses the head against David’s entrance and slowly begins to push inside, sweat building and dripping down his right arm from the amount of self-control he was exercising by not pushing deep inside in one go. God he was tight, tighter than anyone he’d had before, excessive heat enclosing around his length little by little.
He looks up at David, whose eyes were barely open just enough to make contact, loose headband covering one almost completely. His understudy looks down to where they're connected, and Miller follows suit a moment later, a synchronised moan sounding out when his hips collide with the skin, all bottomed out.
Miller groans, pushing the headband up David's head but not completely off. No, no, it was a part of him - him, not that Snake, not Big Boss. A bright blue he's come to associate with the young man more than anything. He runs his flesh hand underneath David's shirt as he waits for him to settle, finding dog tags hidden underneath the cloth in his exploration. David moves his hand into his collar, taking the tags right from Miller's hand and bringing them up, touch lingering far too long.
Miller takes them in hand and reads them. David's codename is engraved, along with his blood type and birthdate. He groans. They didn't even have the decency to put his name in. Maybe they did it to everybody nowadays, or maybe it was just David's luck, to be the son of Big Boss, a weapon and not a man with a name and a beating heart like the rest of his unit.
“Ready, Master.” David snaps him out of it, squirming where he's trapped between the cushions and Miller’s body. The soldier lets out a long moan as he rolls his hips, quiet and subdued with the slow rhythm he has.
“Fuck, David, you're tight,” He grunts out, moving a little faster, watching a bead of sweat drop down the soldier's forehead. He leans down to lick the skin, carefully, relishing in the little noises he was wringing out of the younger man with each thrust.
“What-” David is cut off by a sharp moan, before he continues. “What did you expect? I told you I've never- haaah, done this before.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Miller brushes him off, quickening his pace. David was loosened up just as well as he was, but it wasn't quite enough - the soldier wasn't as mindless as he should be, in his humble opinion. He put a hand under David's back and pushed him up, bringing him closer, letting the younger man put his handcuffed arms around his neck and moan into his ear.
Recklessly, he began to lose himself first. He can't be blamed - it's been so long since he's let himself enjoy the feeling of a willing, pliant body, and David was just so tight, perfectly tight, begging to be properly ruined. He distantly feels a hand cupping his ass and chalks it up to David finally deciding to let go and start touching.
He hears the soldier moan with abandon in his ear, the speedy pace punching loud moans out of him. Miller huffs as he moves his hands down to put David’s hips in a bruising grip, prosthetic arm slowly warming up from the exertion and the body heat the soldier was providing.
“Master, hah, I can't-”
“Can't touch yourself, huh?” His following laugh slowly morphs into a moan as he aims for the proper spot to make David really understand how good this can be. After a few unsuccessful tries and fumbles, he hears a muffled clatter and then a high-pitched whine next to his ear and thinks bingo.
David finally starts to lose himself. He feels a hand in his hair, tugging and loosening his ponytail, and another hand feeling up his chest and abdomen as he thrusts. When the soldier leans back, his eyes are unfocused and careless, and drool is making its way down his chin. The sight makes him throb, and he realises he isn't twenty-four anymore. His stamina isn't what it used to be.
So, a little dirty talk to speed up the process for the young man.
“I'm gonna get you addicted to this, David,” The responsive whine makes him moan, leaning down to whisper more filth into his understudy's ear, who takes it all in willingly and eagerly, head twisting to follow Miller's mouth to hear him better.
“You're gonna be ruined by the end of this. Gonna keep coming back to me, forgetting all your lessons and just- ah, begging me to fuck you like this again.” David thrashes against his hold, and he has to tighten his grip on his uncontrollable hips, which move back against him and away on their own accord.
He's never heard David be so vocal, never seen him be so vulnerable. He cherishes the moment for what it is - a close bond established between the two, one that can't be reversed after they've crossed this line.
“Ah, ah, Master, I'm- it feels weird, like I'm gonna-” Miller nods and doubles his efforts, but he refuses to touch the soldier's cock, knowing it'll be much more intense if he just slammed his hips in just right, over and over, the head of his cock brushing his David's prostate again and again.
“Right there! Master!”
“Call me Kaz. Say it. Say it, David, say it,” He almost begs as he feels David's hands tighten from where they hold onto his shoulders, legs hanging uselessly near his waist, taking everything he's given.
“Kaz- Kaz, close, close,” He obeys and whines and Miller feels him throb, watches as he decorates his shirt with his release, untouched. A spurt lands on one of his tags, and the word Solid is tainted, hidden completely by his own cum.
Miller grunts and pushes in deep, grinding his dick inside the younger man before spilling his own with a low whisper, enjoying the way David's eyes flutter shut at the feeling and his lips are parted. Nearly addicted. Maybe he already is.
Panting together for a few seconds, David suddenly surges up and catches him in a clumsy kiss, filled with experimentation and fumbling. Despite this, Miller thinks it's the purest kiss he's had in a long, long time.
Miller pulls out, steps back slowly to allow David some breathing space, who clearly appreciates the sentiment. He steps on something as he moves, and looks down to find the pair of open handcuffs and set of keys, discarded to the floor.
“When did-?” Miller says, bending down to grab the two items and look at David with nothing short of awe. Pride clearly blooms in the soldier's chest as he puffs it out with a playful grin.
“Remember the mission, Master.” David parrots, and the older man can't suppress the barking laugh that leaves him as he slaps his hand on his understudy's shoulder.
“Well played, David. Well played.”
He's never failed to surprise Miller with how fast of a learner he is.