Chapter Text
Emmerich Voss settled into the small bedroom connected to his office as his incredibly long day had finally ended. He stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and lay back on his bed. As he relaxed on his mattress, his hand traveled down his torso. The day had been a lot, and Voss knew he could use the relief. He never understood the appeal or the voracious need to masturbate the way his men often spoke of with each other when they thought Voss couldn’t hear, but doing it occasionally had several benefits for both his body and his mind.
He began to palm himself through his boxers as his mind ran through several fantasies that would help him get off.
Eventually, Voss picked one of the younger people on his team, Annika Lund, to fantasize about. She was a beautiful woman, both intelligent and competent. When she had first applied for the position, he was surprised that she hadn't ended up working with one of her American professors. But Indiana Jones’s loss was his gain.
He paused as he felt his dick twitch at the thought of his rival.
That was unexpected.
Voss considered himself to be a self-aware man. He spent years studying under Freud and psychoanalyzing people when bored. Of course, he would analyze himself. Pride was his biggest weakness, as well as being prone to underestimating people. He had been harshly reminded of that earlier when he had unwittingly guided Indiana Jones to the identity of the Adamic on the nephilim’s chest while he relished in his rival's ignorance of the very topic.
His dick twitched again at the thought of his Indiana Jones. Voss freed his dick and began to jerk himself as his thoughts continued to wander away from Dr. Lund. He felt himself grow hard in his hand.
One thing that Voss liked was being in control. He could manipulate weak and insecure men as easily as breathing, bringing even the most stubborn of men to heel to get what he wanted, with Gantz just being his most recent example. Indiana Jones wasn’t one of them, a fact that infuriated Voss.
He thought back to when Gina Lombardi had held him at gunpoint. It would be a delicious sight for Voss if their positions had been reversed.
He considered the scene. Indiana Jones at gunpoint, completely at Voss’s mercy, his life in Voss’s hands. He could just imagine the American looking up at him in anger, that unquenchable fire in his eyes.
No, Indiana Jones wasn’t a man who could be controlled.
Voss would love to crush him so that he would be.
A groan escaped Voss’s lips at the thought.
He focused back on the fantasy of Indiana Jones held at gunpoint, kneeling before Voss. Voss relished in having all of the American’s attention, that fire in his eyes directed at him and only him.
He would caress Indiana’s face, his fingers following his cheekbones and his thumb running across his lips. Voss imagined how the American’s soft lips would feel against his dick as Indiana opened his mouth…
Voss had been close to finishing when he realized that Indiana Jones might choose death over sucking Voss’s cock.
He might be more willing if someone else were held at gunpoint.
Miss Lombardi, perhaps.
He quickly tossed out that idea as he felt the sting of jealousy at Indiana’s predilection for the fairer sex.
No, any reliance on outside influences would not make the man any more predictable. To truly control a man like Indiana Jones, Voss would have to subdue him first.
It would be a challenge, but it would be worth it.
Voss would take his time with Dr. Indiana Jones. Breaking a man could turn one into a shell of himself, and Voss didn’t want to lose the American’s intellectual prowess in the process. The intelligence that almost rivaled Voss’s own was what made the American such an intriguing and formidable rival.
He’d break him through physical means only.
However, Indiana Jones was resilient, and it would take more than Voss’s men beating him up to break him. Voss didn’t think that even shooting him in the leg so that he couldn’t escape would be enough. That was nothing but a routine archaeological exploration for the man.
No, there would need to be something more. Torture with just chains and whips wouldn’t be—
Voss groaned again, this time no longer trying to hide the sounds of his pleasure as an idea struck him.
Using Indiana Jones’s own whip to torture him until he finally submitted to Voss.
He pumped faster as the exact scene played out in his mind. Voss could practically hear his rival’s groans as he whipped him with the same instrument that had previously saved his life. The whip was practically an extension of Indiana Jones.
Voss focused on Indiana’s back in the fantasy, relishing the way that his muscles flexed as he arched in pain, granting Voss the perfect exhibition of Indiana’s toned and sculpted back.
Then his traitorous brain changed the scene.
Instead of Indiana Jones groaning in pain at Voss’s hand, he groaned in pleasure. His back arched up, causing his dick to rub up against Voss’s torso as he fucked the American like a woman. Indiana opened his eyes, his focus on Voss and only Voss. The look was full of that unquenchable fire and something else. Voss quickly recognized that his rival looked at him with unbridled lust as Voss fucked him.
It pushed Voss over the edge, and he came harder than he had in his entire life.
As Voss’s heart rate began to slow and his semen in his hand started to cool, Voss only had one thought in his mind.
This was…not good.
The nazis deplored such degenerate thoughts and they would throw him into the camps if anybody knew.
Luckily, most of the people on his team were too idiotic for him to be concerned about any of them figuring out his homosexual thoughts, and what the Fuhrer didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Voss also knew not to blab about his fantasies to anyone, or they would send him to the camps.
Voss quickly cleaned himself off with a tissue. This changed nothing about his mission for the stones. Now, Voss just knew he wanted to capture Indiana, not kill him.
And, once Voss used the stones to ensure Germany's power, he would be able to keep him.