Once can happen, twice means I ship it
Title: Honest Men
Characters: Kaz/Zero, background BB/Kaz and BB/Zero
Rating: NSFW
Word Count: ~980
Summary: There is a fine line between sincerity and scheming, and sometimes it doesn't matter at all.
Notes: This is another one of those fics that write themselves in my head and all I have to do is transcribe them well. (Then it takes me about twice as long to proofread, of course.) Inspired by Pud's fantastic canvas from last night, just mostly skipping ahead from the scene in the pic. Can be read as a loose sequel/companion to this fic. (If you can count up their age difference you get a cookie - I mean, scone. Either way, enjoy the awkwardness.) It is now in my headcanon that Zero was at least a little fond of Kaz, though neither of them would have been very sentimental about it.
Disclaimer: MGS belongs to Hideo Kojima & Konami.
Honest Men
They fuck, Kaz suspects, because Zero is lonely.
It's the easiest explanation, and one that bothers him the least. They are hardly a pair of honest men but, in the lamp-light of the upscale hotel suite where Zero had offered to stage their most recent bout of plotting-they can't do everything on the telephone-earnestness is something that can be invented to suit the moment. In a way, they lie to each other less than they lie to themselves. Than they lie the world in the face.
Than they lie to Jack and about Jack.
He might as well be here with them, only Kaz doesn't acknowledge the sentiment and knows that neither will Zero. This is for respite first and foremost, after all. They talked business earlier, both wearing suits and facades still more impeccable, while dinner progressed in the private compartment they occupied at the time. Having made their way up to the bedroom later, it seemed as good an option as any to let off some steam.
Kaz arches his hips in a leisurely way, responding to Zero's insistence. He's going to finish first anyhow, no matter what he does. His body is young, rough and supple, and there is no rush. His needs are less.
And confirming his prediction, it's only by the time Kaz shivers an orgasm that Zero starts to enjoy himself properly. It's not purposeful. They agreed right at the start not to bother trying to synchronize with one another, the gap between them too wide to make it worth all the self-denial Kaz would have to do in that case. There is less trouble in leaving each of them to run his course, making no fuss. Kaz stays stretched out on his back; his head is tilted to the side, eyes hooded, his thoughts wavering between the activity underway and the MSF with its boss.
He's sure it is the same way for Zero. That's what makes what they're doing fair.
Kaz even believes that, used though he may be for Zero's benefit, he is not totally expendable. He's a businessman, and he knows the value of money. Zero has spent an awful lot on meeting him here tonight, considering they could have stuck to Cipher HQ as they had before: none of this all-inclusive comfort, no pretence at anything out of the ordinary. It sets him wondering if Zero perhaps knows Kaz's secret penchant for stability, knows how it vexes him that the MSF remains an enterprise of chance. Pondering this makes Kaz feel a little lost, a drifting sensation not helped by the haze he's in after his climax. This is among the reasons he gives himself up to however long is necessary for Zero to follow after him, as well as why he doesn't mind. A moan escapes Kaz's throat every now and then, not for pleasure at this point but because of the way Zero's body strains his.
Interestingly, Zero is almost gentle with him despite the machine-like-The System in person, it occurs to Kaz as an afterthought to a conversation they had earlier, and now he knows that Zero means it-regularity of his motions. Not that Kaz would ever ask for gentleness; he's still meeting each thrust and doesn't need to be coddled. He looks up as he starts paying attention again, peering into Zero's face above him. He finds an expression of pure concentration there that sends some renascent heat to his cock, though he doesn't get hard again.
When they are done, they don't have much use for soppy gestures. Kaz had undressed completely when they made it to bed, so he just wipes his front with the one-use towel the hotel staff had so thoughtfully placed on the covers before he settles on his side. From the corner of his eye, he watches Zero take off the condom and readjust the shirt he never took off in the first place. As Kaz makes the deliberate decision to sleep he thinks of the myriad ways this man could stab him in the back before the night is out, but all Zero does is drape the blanket over him.
---
It's still dark when he regains consciousness, only the barest hint of dawn permeating the air. There is a lukewarm cup of something on the nightstand; when he sits up to taste it, Kaz is pleasantly surprised to discover that it's coffee. Glancing around the room, he notices the sliver of light under the bathroom door and determines that he should be awake.
Soon enough, Zero joins him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Thanks for that,” Kaz says, inclining his head towards the cup he's still holding.
“You're as bad as Jack with your muddy water,” comes the reply, “but you are welcome.”
Kaz chuckles, not about to argue the superiority of coffee versus tea at this hour. Beverage wars notwithstanding, part of him can't help but appreciate Zero's unbelievable ability to sound casual in the least casual of situations. For a moment it feels as if they were just an unlikely couple, their difference in age the most dubiously remarkable quality about them.
That illusion is shattered when Zero speaks up once more, swapping his casual manner for blunt. “Is it hard to come back to him?”
It gives Kaz pause, and even then he's speechless. He fidgets with the cup, examines the bedsheets.
“That wasn't a business question, in case you're on your guard.” Zero's voice is weary now. “As a former spy who was a little like you, I know deception takes its toll. If you can't cope, you may end up pulling the rug from under everyone.”
“So you're worried about me? Or is that about yourself?”
“I might be about both of us.” The remark sounds like half of a larger whole impossible to unearth. “And Jack, too.”