(no subject)

[spawnedbywar]

He caught the tube (boy, this hotel thinks of everything) and returned the vaguely smoldering look the other was giving him with a similar one, though more affronted instead of outright sullen, and wisely so. God only knew how much hell he'd get for a glare like that even if he decided to be the bigger man here and admit it, admit to everything that Big Boss was no doubt silently assessing him as, but it should have been worth it. Right? It was better to have a sliver of dignity when you went out fighting instead of none at all. Telling the older man what was on his mind should have been a testament to that.

"Sheesh. Try not to get excited all at once." Naturally, he had to suppress himself from shivering as he squirted out a good handful of the lube (and was he just imagining things or was it scented? this hotel really did think of everything) and began to coat his dick with it. Moving his hand back and forth, he mused that perhaps he and Jack were seeing this eye-to-eye more than either of them cared to admit. Submission was an extreme men like them would sooner break themselves than bow to. No one wanted to own up to their vulnerabilities, but to a soldier, reassuring yourself that you were always the one in control wasn't just a hard-pressed habit -- it was a damn mantra, something you repeated over and over to yourself every day as a reminder of what you could never stand to lose. He wouldn't take advantage of me. He wouldn't exploit me. He respects me. Over and over, like a hymn. Pathetic.

If Jack didn't have the same fear, he wouldn't have reacted so harshly. Or maybe it was the bite that set him off. If that was the case, Kaz certainly deserved his spite and he wouldn't deny that for a second; just like he didn't do anything to deny that he was being high strung and overly paranoid now. It took the next stroke, pronounced and hard, something that elicited another shiver, to remind him how aroused he was right now. This was progressive, what they were doing now; although he was thinking ahead and far too deeply--something he never did in contexts such as this one--this would determine how well they were suited for a relationship. Thinking about it too deeply and right now of all possible times when his head felt light and his heart was little more than a pounding lump in his chest provided little reassurance for Kaz, so he instead occupied himself with crawling back over to Big Boss easing himself down onto the man, shifting awkwardly until they were both in a position the younger man thought was comfortable.

"It's a learning experience, you know. But I like to think that I catch on quick." A tiny half-smile played on his lips and he teased the other man's with his index finger, tracing over them. "So just enjoy this."

'Cause anyone in your position would consider themselves lucky. Ha. Knitting his brow for a moment as he thought about the best way to go about doing this, Kaz placed both hands on Jack's hips to steady him before taking a deep breath and slowly, carefully, easing himself into the other's entrance.

"Oh, I am," he rasped, forcing a smile that had no humor in it, even as he grimaced from the pain that came when Kaz entered him, then added, "I'm enjoying myself as much as a dog in a room full of - hydrants -"

He gave a little drawn out moan which he couldn't hold in anymore, overwhelmed by the burning sensation, one he hadn't felt before, and while it wasn't killing him, it was damn uncomfortable and stung like hell. Without intending to, Jack grabbed onto the other man's upper arms, his biceps, grasping firmly and digging nails rhythmically into the skin, and thought, I bet the bastard thinks I can consider myself lucky. Tough shit. His thoughts wandered off (a welcome distraction), and he began to wonder if this was at all comparable with how women must feel during their first time. He didn't doubt that it got easier over time for both genders, and most of all, enjoyable, otherwise there wouldn't be a point in doing this over and over again, right? Still, for now, he had to concentrate on not trying to instinctively force the physical intruder out again, and get used to the thought that he wanted it there.

Easier said than done, though; relaxing while something got shoved up your butt was almost impossible. Maybe they should have done with more preparation, but there's not much you can do aside from making sure there's a lot of lube and the foreign object wouldn't tear your intestines apart.

No, the problem wasn't that he wouldn't get used to this, it was that he didn't want to. For Kaz, maybe, but as someone whose priority in life wasn't sex, he was sure that being on the receiving end when it happened wasn't one, either. It wasn't the pain (this was perhaps the more enjoyable part of it, though he wouldn't admit that), or a lack of trust. But he was at the mercy of someone else, and that was something he didn't want to enjoy, due to the weakness it implied and to which he didn't want to return to. He was in charge. He was the aggressor.

He was not laying on his back and taking it, except right now he was and he was doing it for Kaz as a gesture of his good will and to signify him how serious he was about this relationship; how badly he wanted it to work despite their little quirks and eccentricities and problems.

When the worst was over, he took a deep breath, and exhaled; moving both his arms behind and above his own head, hands gripping a metal bar from the bedframe, crossing wrists, and allowed himself to smirk up at the other man with a decidedly attractive look on his face; worn out, sweaty and eye half-lidded, but still with all the determination and resolve he would maintain during a torture session.

"Cute so far. Though I do have my doubts if you're really able to get me off, Miller; even under order."

...It worked. Kaz's breath caught in his throat, a small moan escaping him. With all this build up, he expected something more troublesome with a result far, far removed from the norm he was used to and he found out that, surprisingly enough...there wasn't really a difference. Not especially in-so-far as the overall sensation; the clenching around his cock was tighter and the body he was slumped against was far from soft, but that was where the differences ended. It was also where the realization that he could do this began.

--Not like he had been about ready to give up before, not at all, but it was a little--okay, a lot--more comforting to know that he was on relatively sturdy ground here. Even better to understand that most of the unease had been just that; paranoia, doubt, all products of his subconscious. Just holding this position inside Jack, blood humming pleasantly in his ears, accomplishment flooding him, relaxed him far more than any words of encouragement would have. Nuggets of sarcasm aside, of course.

"Hm?" Kaz mumbled, shifting a little. Keyword being a little; there was still the matter of testing the proverbial waters before they could get on with it. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that. I think you're talking shit again."

Maybe it was because of their positions--hell, maybe not just that, maybe everything that had been allowed to come to be tonight--that he allowed himself to say that so nonchalantly. He was only just starting to register the sharp pain his arms that the other's nails had left, but he brushed it off. He couldn't deny that the look he was getting was an alluring one, fitting for a predatory animal though it suited Jack just fine. He really did look his best when he was washed out and worn ragged, a creature of instinct out of his element but still dangerous nonetheless. It added a new exciting element to their game that could have just as well have been a passionate one, too.

"Don't you know not to make bets that you don't have a chance of winning?" He asked, taking one hand off of Big Boss' sides to curl it around his erection, neglected and throbbing. Kaz stroked it a few times before deciding to take the first plunge out and then in again.

That's where the real test of endurance began, but it couldn't be much different from any other. Jack didn't retort immediately, though he thought that talking would probably help to distract him, but he didn't even know at this point if he wanted to be distracted. He did realize to an extent, though, that they were making a game out of this, because everything was more fun when treated as a game. They loved challenges; it was their nature. And there were no lives on the line, after all.

"Ah..."

That wasn't fake. For the moment, he just wanted to feel what it was like to be - to put it bluntly - to be fucked, and make sure to keep the memory intact for a long time because it wasn't going to happen very often, if ever again; in a sense, it was a priviledge, but his pride didn't allow him to tell this to Kaz. Damn...he gripped the bar tighter; in a way, there was something exhilarating about being so exposed, too; it was that part of him he didn't want to show to others, or even himself. It was that part that made sure that there was always a slight, barely noticeable hardness in his pants whenever he was thrown into a cell, beaten and caked with blood after a long, painful night.

...This wasn't torture, though, but sex and violence weren't so far apart. The lines were often blurry, the motives not that different. Kaz was fucking him, and fucking was domination, even if they treated it as a friendly game, he would not be able to let go and enjoy himself as most other people did. A part of him would always want to fight, and so, after a minute or two, he stopped experiencing this just for what it was.

He wanted to beat it, too.

"Yep," he said, voice calm, body rocking with every thrust and stroke. "I know my limits. I thought you did, too? Maybe not..."

He exhaled softly with the next thrust, though it sounded more like a sigh, and locked his ankles behind Kaz's back, having the audacity to urge him on by nudging him forward.

"Aaah, Kazu. Suddenly everything makes sense!" The pain was subsiding, instead, a pleasant feeling of being filled so completely, and a cock brushing against a spot inside him he'd only heard of, and it was nice - but instead he said, "Why you can't keep girlfriends. At first glance you might come off as one handsome devil, but once they experience you in action..."

Well. He'd let Kaz fill in the blanks and complete that sentence.

You're just not gonna make this easy, are you? Not like he had been expecting a walk through the park with this, but was it that hard for Jack to cut him a break? The younger man made a noise that vaguely resembled a pffft and the hand that was curled around Big Boss' cock tightened marginally; Kaz's not-so subtle way of reminding him that, just as well as Big Boss could be intolerable, he himself had no problems with playing Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass and switching between moods, too.

"Ah -- don't lecture me on girls. Makes you seem like a hypocrite, what with you acting like one now."

He rolled his hips, grunting -- a low, vulgar sound that he didn't bother to censor. Say what you will about the antagonistic ways they could come up with to get on each other's nerves, but there were few people whose company Kaz could tolerate to that extent and trust without worrying too much about things like his self-image, how he looked and how high he ranked. With most of the performance anxiety gone, he was fairly confident in his ministrations and that what he was doing was pleasurable for the man on the receiving end no matter how much of a bastard he was going to be about it. The legs wrapped around him were very telling of that.

"Seems like you're enjoying it just fine," He commented, teasing but still a little mocking. His other hand released Snake's hip for a moment to sneak across his chest, finding a nipple and rubbing over it and tweaking it. "Are you saying you're gonna leave me, too, Snake?"

A laugh followed. Kaz didn't give him the chance to answer, hoping the next hard thrust would leave the other too breathless to argue.

Not the case.

"I'm not that heartless," he said, ignoring Kaz's hands for the most part, as well as his thrusts; though his body moved with them, and his voice wasn't as unaffected by them as he would have liked it to be. Still, he kept his composure and his own pleasure in check. He wasn't anywhere near close, and it would probably take a while...it was only a matter of outlasting the other man, and he was fairly confident when it came to that. That's the downside, he supposed, of having to be the active one.

Jack himself did nothing with his hands. They were still holding onto the bedframe as if he was bound to it, and unable to move.

Kaz had found a rhythm now to which Jack could adapt and fight against. It was more mental than physical; of course pleasure was hard to control, but it was always a matter of willpower, too. And he had that in abundance.

"But I'm bored, Kaz. You don't see me writhing with pleasure." Another nudge with his foot, this time a bit more violently and throwing the man off-rhythm. Contemplating, "I think it's not long enough... see, that's why we should have followed through with my original plan. You're such a miserable tactician, you can't assess your opponent very well nor your own assets. You're too young and inexperienced still. Most of all, you're lacking practical experience; I guess they didn't teach you this at college..."

Ouch. Well, if that didn't sting, nothing did.

The first mistake Kaz made was also the gravest -- he stopped. Sure, it could have passed for a simple pause--him slowing down to catch his breath, to listen closer to Big Boss without feeling that he was being distracted--but by the time the other stopped talking and the silence that hung between them became too awkward to brush off as simple irritation, it became very apparent that the other's words had indeed made their mark on him. Should he be angry? Very much so. Surprise was the dominant emotion here; although he should have expected a response like that, he hadn't counted on it to be so...vicious? Mocking? As if the other was deliberately doing this with intentions that weren't as linear as Kaz would have thought.

But it had worked and it was upsetting and he could do little to deny that. Big Boss never spoke to him like this, but he guessed that was because there had been no reason to up until now. His judgment was unwavering and though Kaz wouldn't try to hide how much those words were making him think, making him silently assess his own capabilities which in turn brought back less than pleasant memories, he also wasn't going to play the hurt, sulky victim in this battle. Kaz was never the victim. He could never imagine himself as such, it was that illogical.

"I wonder," He started with a sigh, throat burning suddenly and mouth going dry. "If you can only say that because you're too proud to even see yourself like this. Being obnoxious comes easy when you're preoccupied with trying to save face."

Oh, he wasn't bitter about it. At least not outright. His tone was neutral and casual, like they were having a somewhat tense but perfectly normal discussion about the weather or politics; one patient adult talking down to what he perceived to be a particularly dense kid. Sarcasm was a crutch but the condescending edge that came with it was something Big Boss would recognize beyond a doubt as a sign that Kaz was more effected by all of this than he cared to let on. It was normal for his teasing to go from sweet to sour when he had something on his mind that he let bother him.

"Your loss if you're too much of a stubborn prick to enjoy this. You know what we can go back to, right?"

Fighting. Animal violence. Everything Jack loved and wasn't afraid to admit as much, especially when he was cornered figuratively and literally right now and had no room to retaliate when Kaz pulled out with no amount of gentleness and punched him several inches above his balls. If Snake wanted to be a bastard about this, fine. That was all a part of the game, too.

For a moment there, he thought he had gone too far - was almost sure that this was the case, though he trusted Kaz to recognize it all as not being entirely serious. Yes, he wanted to rile the other man up, but he didn't expect him to slow down or stop altogether, but to - fuck him harder. Or punch him, something he did now, though not somewhere he exactly wanted to be punched.

That was vicious indeed, just like his words must have been.

"Christ!" He yelled - obviously in pain now, and reflexively countered by kicking Kaz square in the face, hard enough to throw him off the bed completely, and he didn't regret that one second, because now, just as the other man had said, it was back to fighting. Kaz couldn't prove his dominance that way (and Jack didn't appreciate being called a girl, by the way), so they were down to this again. And Kaz didn't play fair, either, but no doubt he'd know who would win this one.

He was a good fighter, but Jack was better, even if he was out of commission for... at least a moment, covering his dick with both hands and rolling over onto his stomach, before hissing and cursing loudly and getting off the bed.

With the intent to pick Kaz up and throw him against something and giving him hell. Or at least a certain part of him; god knew he deserved it after that. And they weren't finished yet, anyway.

He anticipated retaliation and took the hit head-on, falling backwards off the bed with a thud. The pain was a sickening haze that clouded his vision not unlike the red one that was his anger, surging over him like a wave. He could take pride in knowing that the other man got it worse (always sound logic even if his backside was positively shrieking from being punted like that) but evidently it wasn't enough because, surprise surprise, Jack was getting up again and moving with a ferocious speed Kaz was seldom used to. It was the kind reserved for sparring sessions and quick, nasty fights where the goal was to overwhelm and disarm your opponent instead of beating them to a pulp, the kind that needed no battlefield. Whether it was the beach or the kill house or even the showers, any environment could become a battlefield within a split second, no matter how ridiculous. Anything could be a weapon and Kaz was unfortunate enough to experience that first hand when Big Boss, after striding over to him with wide, limping steps that kind of looked funny in retrospect, grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him back against the piece of furniture closest to them which happened to be the tea table.

The sound of wood rattling and glass shattering was all his ears could handle; he was lucky the tea set had been knocked off the table's flat surface when he fell into it stomach first, sparing his body from the lacerations that would have followed if he landed on them directly. That was just as bad as falling off the bed except this time he was quick to react, bucking against Big Boss as he felt a heavy set of hands descend upon his arms, twisting them roughly.

"What, you're surprised?" He grumbled, hissing through clenched teeth. "You shouldn't play with fire if you don't want to get burned, Boss."

And in spite of it all, he was grinning; a smug, self-assured smirk that was just as nicely suited for grimacing, which is what he'd be doing in another few seconds when the pain simply became too much to ignore. He hadn't had a fight like this in -- gosh, he really couldn't say how long it'd been. The one they had on Sunday didn't count nor did the one before that when he discovered Jack's borrowed eye. This was something else entirely.

This was pure.

"Pity that it always has to lead to this," Big Boss hummed - the spot below his waist was still aching, and it would ache for a while, but it wasn't like Kaz wouldn't suffer with him, oh no. He'd been willing to make this a nice experience for both of them, one that involved little to no physical violence, but Kaz had to go and ruin it.

Twisting his arms so hard and roughly that he almost broke them, Big Boss held them on Kaz's back, shoving the man further into the table, the edge digging into his stomach. The other man couldn't see it, but he was smiling, and it was not a pleasant, nice smile. No; it was more sardonic than anything, because he was looking forward to making the other man scream and knock that arrogant smartass attitude out of him. Kaz could get away with a lot, and Jack let him; but that didn't mean there wouldn't be consequences at some point.

And it wasn't like it'd kill him, after all.

"I could say the same for you," he said and, after shifting position and his hold a bit so he had one hand free on which he spit, he outright slammed two fingers up the other man's ass, moving them roughly inside him. There was nothing gentle about this anymore; perhaps not even loving, just passion and ferocity and raw emotion.

"I had planned this as such a nice evening, but you can't play along. After Colombia, one would think you've learned when to stay put. Now I have to fuck you over so hard again that you'll spend another week in an infirmary. On your stomach, this time."

He dug his fingers so hard into Kaz's wrists that he left marks, and leaned down abruptly to bite him in the shoulder, drawing blood.

It was like adding fuel to the fire. He couldn't see Jack, but Kaz could feel him; oh yes, he could. With his entire body, no less, spine arching and legs buckling under the strain, the effort to keep upright in this position as Big Boss shoved his index and middle fingers up his ass in what must have been his attempt at scissoring the younger man, stretching him. It was agonizing, pure and simple, but to his credit he didn't scream or cry out; not once. Instead, he held it in and hissed through his clenched teeth. His jaw was like a vice and was starting to ache from how firmly he was grinding his teeth, trying to suppress himself from whining as he felt two pairs of nails dig into him, one on his wrists and the others down there.

Asshole. Goddamn smarmy asshole. If he had kept his mouth shut and went along with it, none of this would have ever happened. Of course Kaz wasn't going to admit that it might just have been entirely his fault; in his eyes, it was Big Boss who behaved out of line. Big Boss with his backwards sense of humor. Big Boss and his impatience. Couldn't have let it go, could he? And yet, somehow, he still had the nerve to play the long-suffering victim.

Well, it wasn't going to work that way. Kaz wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing him scream. The groans and grunts that still managed to escape his lips, however tiny as they may have been, melted into a rough bark of a laugh as he pressed his back against Jack's chest, half rubbing and half pushing.

"Self-righteousness doesn't suit you, Snake," He chuckled, singing-songing the words as best as a someone could do with as dry a throat as he had right now. "Maybe you should--nngh--stop playing that card and own up to it. You were horny from the start."

When you were that pent up, everything was perceived as tension. He didn't believe for a second that Jack would have went easy on him if they both had decided to go the nice, clean route with this. In the end, he'd still be marked in the end, be it through teeth or nails or something that cut even deeper than those did.

He bit down harder for a second, before separating from Kaz's shoulder, blood on his teeth and his lips.

"So were you. You got hard just from touching me. I bet you jerked off to me, too, when I wasn't around."

Cute. Now he was still trying to act all defiant, but Jack knew that was just his stupid pride now acting up. It wouldn't save him - he'd have his way with him regardless, and since Kaz wasn't coming off as much of a victim that genuinely wanted out of this, he saw no reason to stop boring into him as deep and far as his fingers allowed. He was tight and tense; not relaxed, which really was indication enough that this was his first...Never had another man used him like that, or rather, filled him like that. He was given the same privilege as Kaz, only that he would make better use of it; and in a way that he would love and remember.

"Don't be so tense. Then again, you probably love being subdued by me. If I don't show you the ropes, who else will? That day, two years ago. I have never met a man who I've wanted to have so badly. You thought you could kill me, a rookie, with no combat experience whatsoever. What a fool you were. I could have killed you on the spot, and yet you didn't give up. Just as you're doing now, but I'm still going to have you; because from here on, there's no other path for you to take. It's either defeat, or..."

He pulled out. His fingers were wet; between his index and middle finger, there was a thick string of saliva. He released Kaz's arm, too; though it wasn't like he left him any room to breath or take a break at all. Big Boss's hands grabbed the man's hips, raking his nails down his skin and placed one of his legs between his, making sure they were kept spread.

"Handing your life over to me. You died there that day, and now you're mine, Kazuhira. Don't forget that."

And with that, he plunged into him balls-deep; and began fucking him roughly against the table the very same second, his his kept in a steel grip.

Everything was on fire. He snarled a furious fuck you, choking on the words and feeling their traces, the symbiotic relationship they had with his pride, whither and die on the tip of his tongue. Next to taking a bullet, it was the worst pain he had ever experienced. It went beyond simple penetration. His insides seemed to cave and clench around the intruding pressure inside him and it only made the agony worse and if he wasn't so overcome by it he would take his chances with a broken arm and struggle further. It didn't matter if he couldn't dish it back to Jack in full; even if he nicked his chin with his elbow or got him in the nose it would have been fine. Better than nothing. He could at least say he made an effort instead of just taking it, taking the pain in its entirety like a masochist or an animal cornered by a hungry wolf that tore and bit at its prey until it was weakened enough to finish the job; only now, it wasn't teeth that ravaged him but arousal. Not even affection -- savage emotion that had been allowed to go unchecked for so long. When you took a step back to look at it, there was absolutely nothing healthy about this.

Nothing dignified either. The wetness forming at the corners of his eyes didn't help either, but that was nothing short of a reflex. The force of it all had hit him so hard that it was impossible for his body not to react with these telling little signs of submission -- bleary eyes that struggled to stay focused, a consistently bucking, arching form that alternated between that and quivering, ragged and vulgar noises that resonated from his throat. And of course his own erection, miserably unattended to. That seemed to quiver just as much, and while his mind was hardly needy for release, his body was. Just his luck that his body was wired to interpret pain as an extreme related to that.

"H-haah..."

His nails found the table and they dug into it, aching. He was so hard right now that it hurt and it was the least of his troubles on that end of the spectrum, but he wasn't going to give Jack the pleasure--no, privilege--of knowing that. Submitting was a hurdle he'd yet to leap past. He wasn't a toy whose only purpose was to be fucked with and thrown away after all was said and done, and he wasn't like that. It didn't matter if he could understand the man's rant on one very vital level; how he too could relate with wanting a person so agonizingly bad that it ached, how the only way to stop it was to connect with them on the inside and outside and hope that neither one of them would ever let go. That was what he wanted.

And now he had to ask himself, 'midst all of it -- was this how you got to that state? Were pain and pleasure really that far apart?

Was he so sick that he couldn't see himself protesting to more of this?

"Nothing to say to that, Kaz? I wonder why. You always loved to go on long tangents about pride and dignity. What happened to that? Oh, right...you don't need any of that anymore when you're with me."

He knew his words were perhaps scathing, but also brutally honest. Their relationship wasn't at all nice and beautiful and ordinary; he'd never be able to think up the term himself but it was some sort of co-dependency at work here; and that there was a manipulative element to it wasn't a secret, either. They met on the battlefield. He'd broken Kaz's legs and shot him and detonated a bomb right next to him. It was his luck that he was even alive at all at this point, and that Big Boss had picked him up and not left him to his injuries. No doubt he would have died if they had gone untreated.

It hadn't been his good will, either. He could have saved anyone, or no one. It was the man who was willing to give up his pride if that meant that he'd be on the winning side. It had been very selfish of both of them, and Jack was equally selfish in that very moment, plunging into him time and time again; using his body, painfully so. He'd inflict pain now and nurse him back to health later. That was the nature of their relationship, and nothing else.

A hand found its way into his feathery blond hair, the other down his waist to a bobbing arousal. 'Oh,' he made, and then, a chuckle. He was even harder now, but it shouldn't surprise him. He grabbed his dick, but didn't move his hand, just pulled at his hair.

"You're not allowed to come, Kaz. And you won't stay conscious long enough to see it go off. You're losing, despite your best efforts, and there is nothing you can do. I decide what happens to you."

It was a beautiful contrast. Even though Jack was the one exerting himself, Kaz was the one who couldn't keep it together. The pressure, the sudden change of mood and position...of advantage. He hadn't expected that. Now he was a quivering, moaning, needy wreck; the man beneath all that big-talk. Jack's voice remained even.

"So, what is it you want to tell me, Kaz? Both your parents are dead, and there's no one to point you in the right direction anymore..."

There were pockets of solitude in-between thrusts when Big Boss seemed to pause in his ministrations as he spoke to the man beneath him, and in any other case Kaz would have seized those moments--however small and fleeting they have have been--to act. But he was right: Kaz was losing. As laughable as it may have been (him, worn out? impossible, improbably, ridiculous), his body wasn't used to this onslaught; it was a mental and physical barrage of frightening sensations and confusing feelings that he were foreign and it disturbed him to realize how little he really understood himself. Jack knew what buttons to push and knew that every thrust was taking a little more out of him, chipping away at his self-control and stubborn need to be right.

He wasn't going to depend on a person. Some people were lucky to grow into loving families that nurture them into well-adjusted, healthy adults that knew when to let go when the time was right, and then there were the others. The dregs. Kids like him who grew up alone, went through childhood and adulthood alone, and would most likely die alone nine out of ten times. Two years ago, he'd come close to it. He remembered pulling himself across the ground, the broken bones in his legs cracking as they were dragged along a hard forest floor, and he remembered that Jack had been the only person he could still see around that was alive. There were bodies, mostly rebels and more than a few bonafide soldiers from the Colombian government, and they would have kept Kaz company as he lay bleeding and wrecked if Snake had ignored his defiant yelling, screams in a garbled voice that sounded wet from the blood he was choking on. He remembered thinking back then that this was his future; it would end on that day 'midst the bodies of his new friends and enemies, and the man who was responsible for it would come with him.

But it didn't. And now that very same man was pulling in and out of him, fingers twined through his hair and hand enclosed over his cock like a steel vice. Just what did he want now? He had just about everything he wanted right now -- Kaz was cornered, cracking, and in no position to shoot back verbal jabs or threats. He didn't even want to. Too much of a hassle to string together a coherent sentence when the only noises that were coming out of him aside from his own labored breathing were whorish ones that made him feel sick to his stomach.

"--Is -- izzat what you want?" He panted. Keeping up with the other was an effort in itself but now he had to worry about holding himself back from coming. Wonderful. "To know that -- that you're--hnn--needed?" Another moan, more frustrated and upset than lecherous. "For God's sake, Jack...I get it already...! K-knock it off--"

There was something pleading about his tone. Desperate. Unsteadily, he tried to rock against the table and into the older man's hand, rubbing into it with the hopes of creating friction. It was an itch that couldn't be scratched, but he had to try, he needed it--

"Loyalty."

A single word, said between thrusts as he was slowing down. His rapid pace became a slower, more pronounced one; long, hard strokes against his prostate as he adjusted his own angle until it was perfect.

"I gave you everything you were lacking in your life. Now ask me for more. Ask me to fuck you harder. Ask for release. I want you to be selfish. I want - to have an important place in your life. And I want you to remember this like you remember that day two years ago."

The realization what he had done tonight would probably come later. The things he said and did and demanded; so unlike the man that had been shy about even confessing his desire for the other man. It's moments like this; pure and genuine, where he can give in to raw instinct and desire without any social conventions holding him back, where he was sure that the mutual understanding was so strong that nothing could communicate his feelings better than raw force and brutal words. His mind was just adapting to the body and speaking what it wanted.

I want you. You're mine.

Of course, these were usually the things that were left unspoken. Either because they were understood, or because there was no place and for these things. There always was, on the battlefield though, so he had to create one.

I took your life and gave it back.

"Kaz," he allowed himself to groan, only once, a deep, throaty sound, more similar to the growl of a dog. Thumb and index finger were just lightly shoving back and forth his foreskin, squeezing precum out of his head. He pulled harder at his hair, twisting him into a position where his cheek was down and pressing onto the table and he was forced to look at Jack behind him, as he still rocked into him, every fibre of his body working and pressing.

"Kaz, ask me....yell... I'm not playing anymore. Or I'll leave you as you are - "

"Nno--" He tried to grind his head against the table, brutally hard so as to distract himself from everything--Jack's eye, that threat, the burning--and only succeeded in making himself dizzy. "Don't--"

So it had come to this. What had possessed him to resort to begging? Even he couldn't say why, not precisely. If you wanted something bad enough, you got it; that's how it's always been. He didn't need Jack's approval to finish himself off; he could've found a way to do so, screw the pain, screw the everything that held him back and made him feel like the lowest of the low, starved of attention both figurative and literal and held in a position where he had no choice but to jump at even the barest of scraps lest he go crazy from the strain. That's what it was like right now -- a maddening state where shrieky animal panic filled his mind and body, where everything came with a price, where he couldn't even tell if an answer that had started out initially as one word was meant to cut him to his core and make him shudder. That was guilt he was feeling. It wasn't a foreign emotion, he'd lived with it for every day of his life, it just surprised him that he could feel it right now and with such an intensity.

Loyalty.

Boss.

When he left his country, only his ambitions remained and those had been murdered when he met Snake, all but ready to take both of their lives. He didn't create his own ideals. MSF did, and by proxy, so did Jack. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between the two. Some days he could have sworn he was in love with both.

You're an idiot.

And sometimes, when he was about ready to break, they carried him. He would have done anything for them and he had by betraying one to save the other, and look where it got him. He knew Jack didn't trust him as much as he would have if Kaz had kept his involvement with Them a secret like it should have been; some wounds were quick to heal while others scabbed over and left a dull but prominent scar behind, and that was what it was -- something that could only be ignored, never erased. And yet, somehow, the older man had the audacity to ask for more.

Like none of it had ever mattered to begin with.

"A-ah...you're -- such a--" Prick? Asshole? Bastard? He couldn't decide. And his sight was getting blurrier by the second, making it so very hard to focus on anything other than that eye, blue and piercing and beautiful the same way a knife or gun was when you held it in your hands, new and polished, and understood that it was meant for you.

He groaned again and it tapered off into a frustrated mewl and he murmured something that was so incoherent it could have been gibberish.

"Do it. Right now." Louder. "You already m-made me scream...so finish the job. Fuck me. Please--"

It was so urgent. Why? It wasn't like it was a matter of life or death, was it?

"I need it, Boss."

You never had to ask.

"That's what I wanna hear. It pays off, you'll see."

And in turn, he got to see what kind of man Kaz really was. It was intoxicating, to see him reduced to this after such a long time, and strangely satisfying...domination. Having control over the situation, to corner someone else and to know that you were winning...that you held someone else's life in your hands - Even if finding pleasure in something like that was sick to a certain extent.

Kaz was his best friend. That's why he could do this with him. Why it strengthened their bond rather than weakening it.

But he had tortured him quite enough, and he had given in, so he gave him what he wanted, knowing that it would be all the more sweeter for him now. Jack began to move his hand back and forth in the same rhythm he thrusted into him, without losing any of his intensity, it was a fluent transition. His hand, by this point, was decidedly wet; something he noticed with a certain sort of delight.

"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes," he teased. Yeah, he still had the nerve for that, even though, by this point, all the friction had taken its toll on him, too. "Literally, now." His fingers twined with strands of Kaz's hair; most of his others were still curled around his shaft and pumping eagerly, giving him what he wanted and needed.

His own torso shifted weight forward, and he was rather above the man now, grinding them both into the wooden surface which, he was sure, wouldn't keep stable for very much longer. He barely moved out anymore - just a few inches, he was so close and his thrusts short and quick, but his strokes long and hard.

"Kaz..." Into his ear, leaning down. "Haaah, Kaz... Soon - I'm going to...shit..."

No doubt about it. Kaz really could have cried now, this time in relief when he felt that hand around his erection finally begin to move. It was sweeter than he ever would have expected, a warmth that washed over him in waves, and he found himself fighting against the painful current caused by Jack moving inside him to do a little thrusting of his own, this time into that now very sticky hand. Its slickness made rubbing into and against it so easy and effortless and so much better than he would have ever felt possible, and for a few seconds, he did cry out.

"Jack..." The name of his aggressor and the one person he wanted to be with now more than ever before. He didn't hear what the other had just said, and even if he had, he wouldn't have cared less. Let Big Boss mock him, let him call him a prick, bastard, asshole or even a masochist -- he'd take it all in spades and ask for more ten times over if it meant replicating this sensation. He didn't know what that made him; a slut for punishment, he supposed.

And still, was that any surprise? It was no secret that he and Snake enjoyed their mixing business with pleasure; their fights were, after all, a testament to that -- a way for them to let off steam and wind down from highs that came and went, and also a method to communicate something deeper; the need to take their pain and grow stronger from it. Sparring was an intimate affair for them. In retrospect, no different from what they were doing now save for how visceral this was getting, not to mention embarrassing. He was stuck on Jack's name, groaning it, murmuring it, choking on it as he tried to stop himself from panting as the inevitable approached.

And then he seemed to stop breathing altogether.

"J-Jack...oh...please--"

He didn't care if he fell into the table and reduced it to splinters. One of the hands that gripped the edge tore itself away, knuckles white and thoroughly sweaty, and it fumbled hastily to lay itself on the older man's actively moving one, trying to speed along the process, and it didn't take long at all. Within moments, his arousal peaked and he reached his climax, coming into their hands.

There wasn't a word suitable for it. "Bliss" was as close as he could get to describing it.

Kaz came messily into his hand - hard, too, from what he could tell, and felt the man beneath him shiver and spasm and moan; and in turn, it made him feel proud to have given him so much pleasure, all at once. Kaz's muscles contracting all around him was enough to push him over the edge, too, so it was give and take. He gasped heavily, his pace becoming irregular as he began to come, too; spill everything right into that body he was still pounding into.

"Ka - az ... hnrgh!" A last thrust, and then he remained buried deep within his lover, his hands grasping his scalp and digging into his thigh. For a few moments, there was nothing but endless pleasure; tension and pressure releasing and flowing and he was sure this was the best orgasm he'd had in a long while. Only a few seconds, though, and it was all done, and all that was left was his afterglow as he slumped, heavily panting, down onto the other man's back, leaving him with the entirety of his weight. In hindsight, it was a small wonder that the table didn't give in under their combined weight.

He thought of nothing. There was nothing but peace, and the sound of his and Kaz's heart, beating in the same rhythm, as well as their strained, tired breathing.

And cum dropping from his fingers.

They'd done it.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. His own climax had already taken everything out of him--drive to move, breathe, even open his eyes--but Jack's had been far more intense in the regard that he would have been knocked to his feet from the strain of it all, the collapsing weight atop him that felt more like lead than a human flesh and blood body, but the table was there to catch them both. There had been a faint crack, something he associated with wood splintering and smashing, and for a few seconds he held his breath and willed himself not to move, waiting for a collapse that never came. That in itself was a little surprising; if there was every a moment where the universe could have fucked them over further just for shits and giggles, it should have been right now. It wouldn't have surprised Kaz in the least if the table broke under their combined weight. It wouldn't have stunned him too terribly if Big Boss sat up and threw him off, deciding that the younger man wasn't the comfiest of pillows, or that the hasty little puffs of air he was exhaling that sounded like a cross between panting and crying was getting too irritating to bear.

Nothing would have shocked him; he was too worn out to care either way, but he couldn't deny that it felt better knowing that Big Boss wouldn't move any time soon -- almost like relief, the same feeling you get knowing that the arms wrapped around you are ones of safety and comfort. He may have only been able to say as much because of his afterglow and how good it felt basking in it, but he would have been content with staying like this with a warm chest pressed against his back and an equally warm hand curled around his cock. It was good enough to fall asleep to, even if some distant part of his mind knew that he'd regret it the next day.

After a few minutes of perfect silence, Kaz shifted underneath Big Boss and, without much effort, felt around for the older man's hand. It was sticky and wet and it should have been disgusting no matter who all of it had come from, but it didn't stop him from lacing his fingers with Jack's and holding tight. If he couldn't move the rest of his body, the least he could do was that.

Squeezing followed. So did a whisper, gruff and distant.

"...You win." Rub it in all you want.

"'Course I do."

What else is new?

Jack gave a deep, satisfied hrrrmmn, and still somehow managed to make that unintelligible noise in the back of his throat sound smug. But nontheless, he squeezed back, which should be telling enough. It took his breath and heart a few more moments to find back to a somewhat regular pace. When they did, he moved just a few inches - enough to place his lips to the back of Kaz's neck.

He didn't think he needed to say anything else. Slowly but surely, after a last reassuring squeeze, he drew his hand away, and got up carefully, all too aware of the fact that the table was liable to give in any second. His back was hurting a little, but it wasn't too bad.