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It was Saturday in early summer. Ocelot was stretched out on the couch with his book in hand, fully monopolizing the sunshine that filtered through the window. He was reaching for another bite of breakfast (toast with honey and a handful of blueberries) when the door to the apartment opened. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Snake immediately stripped off his sweat-soaked t-shirt and slung it over his shoulder, before opening the fridge and sticking his head in it.
“You’re wasting electricity,” Ocelot chided from the couch, popping another blueberry into his mouth. Snake ignored him, staying nearly a minute before he finally closed the fridge. They didn’t have much of a kitchen, but given that neither occupant was home for long periods of time, it wasn’t much of an issue. Honestly, it wasn’t much of an apartment either— their one lonely window was a mere two feet from the next building over, so they rarely got any sunlight, the windows leaked when it rained, giving the whole room a distinctly damp smell, and the radiator seemed to only work every other time they needed it to. It was Ocelot’s favorite place he’d ever lived.
Snake let out a little cough-grunt, clearly trying to get his attention. He took his time finishing the page before placing his bookmark and closing it. “That was an hour. How many miles did you do?”
“Only eight,” Snake said. Only. Clearly eight miles had not been enough to exorcise the demons from his head, though, because he was already picking at the cuticles on his hand. “Got too hot.”
“You’ll have to start going earlier then,” Ocelot said with a scowl of distaste— he was a light sleeper, and it was a rare day when Snake could make it out of the house without waking him up.
“Right, yeah.” Snake crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, then crossed them again.
“Blueberry?” he said.
“No,” Snake huffed.
“They’re really good,” he said, tossing another one into his mouth as Snake continued to look like he wanted to explode out of his skin. “Also, you really need to do laundry, by the way. I have two pairs of clean underwear left.”
Snake frowned. “If it’s bugging you so much, you do it.”
“It’s your turn. I’m not going to suffer because of your incompetence.”
“You’re not suffering, it’s laundry,” Snake grumbled. He tossed his shirt on the counter before coming over to slouch onto the couch by Ocelot’s feet.
“I mean, I could wear yours, but you’ll bitch and they’ve all got holes.” Ocelot sat up, leaning against Snake’s side. As he’d hoped, the random chit-chat seemed to have calmed Snake down a little. “What’s up?” he asked with careful casualness.
As Snake cleared his throat, he flicked through a thousand scenarios in his mind. You got into a huge fight with Zero. You found a litter of puppies on the street and you’re hiding them in our bathroom. You’re running away to start your own private army. You want to have a threesome with EVA. You need to bail your sister out of jail again.
Ocelot considered himself pretty adept at thinking of possible situations, but he doubted he could have predicted what actually came out of Snake’s mouth next.
“I’ve been thinking and I…” Snake crossed his arms, looking down at the scuffed hardwood beneath his feet. “I want you to fuck me.”
He had a few years practice at handling Snake’s unhinged non sequiturs at this point, so he just nodded thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said, when it became clear that Snake was waiting for some kind of answer. “...You don’t mean right now, do you?”
“Of course not,” Snake snapped. “Just. In general. I’ll… I’ll give it a go.”
It had been hard to tell at first given that his face was still red from exertion, but it was clear now that Snake was blushing quite a bit. It made Ocelot feel the tiniest bit bad for giving such a nonchalant response. “Sure, whenever you’ve ready,” he said. “There’s a couple things you should probably do first, do you w-”
“No, I know.” Snake said, glaring down at his shoes.
Ocelot paused. “I don’t want to do anything that you’re not interested in, or ready for,” he said softly, setting his hand on Snake’s knee.
“I do want to.” Snake said quickly. “I do. It feels really good when you touch me there. I just… hrn. I don’t like talking about it.”
Ah. So the usual embarrassment/vague threats to masculinity again. Well, Ocelot could handle that.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said. “I don’t care what we do as long as we’re both having a good time. Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Snake settled back into the couch, looking slightly less uncomfortable. “Gimme a blueberry.”
Ocelot tossed one in his direction, and Snake leaned forward and caught it in his mouth with a satisfied noise.
Ocelot wolf-whistled sarcastically, and Snake smirked, ruffling his hair. “Eat your damn toast.”
He would have liked to say that he forgot about the conversation once it was over, but that was far from the case. Instead, Ocelot was filled with a nervous anticipation that he hadn’t felt since the early days of their relationship. Because, well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about fucking Snake. Quite a lot, actually. But Snake had a lot of preconceived ideas about what specifically he was supposed to be doing during sex, and gently nudging him away from that had taken a lot of time and effort. So the fact that Snake had apparently come to this conclusion on his own and had thought about it this much… it felt like a lot of pressure to be absolutely certain things went well.
The rest of the day passed without incident, if you didn’t count the continued bickering about doing laundry. They went to the grocery store. Ocelot made dinner, and succeeded in not burning anything (a real triumph for him, considering the Philosophers hadn’t considered cooking to be an important skill for an agent to have). Afterwards, Snake picked a random tape from the seemingly infinite pile his friend Clark kept supplying them with, and they settled in to watch It Came From Beneath The Sea.
Or at least, Ocelot tried to watch the movie, but it was obvious they both had other things on their minds. At least it was hard for him to get caught up in his own trepidation when Snake was all over him, attacking his neck with hungry kisses.
“Not enjoying this one, are you?” Ocelot asked as he was pulled roughly into Snake’s lap.
“Hm?” Snake said, mid-unbuttoning Ocelot’s pants.
“We’re going to have to start over,” Ocelot chastised. Snake looked up at him with a pleased little smirk, and he swallowed, resisting the urge to kiss that stupid smile off of his face. “We’re never going to make it through the list at this rate.”
“Oh, no,” Snake said, rolling his eye. “Anyway. Guess we’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Bed?”
Ocelot nodded, and before he knew it Snake was pulling him to his feet and into the bedroom. Not to be outdone, Ocelot leaned over and gave his ass a firm smack.
“You want to-”
“Yeah,” Snake said, a little breathless. Ocelot grinned, wrapping his arms around Snake’s neck to kiss him. With a grunt, Snake lifted him up, then fell backwards onto the bed, Ocelot on top of him.
Ocelot laughed as he untangled himself, climbing onto his hands and knees. Snake grinned at him from below.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, stroking Snake’s cheek.
“Hm,” Snake said. His hands settled at Ocelot’s waist, one hand sliding up under his shirt. “Better make it worth my while then.”
“Oh, of course,” he drawled, reaching into his pocket.
Snake’s eyes narrowed as Ocelot withdrew his pocketknife and flicked it open. “Adam.”
Ocelot smiled serenely, hooking the blade of the knife under the top button of Snake’s shirt as he sat down to straddle him fully. Despite his protest, Snake licked his lips, studying him hungrily. This wasn’t new territory for them, as the cigar burns on his inner thighs could attest to. The easiest way to get Snake out of his own head was to get him so wound up he couldn’t think straight, and Ocelot knew exactly how to do just that.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He pulled the button towards himself, stretching the thread attaching it to the fabric as far as it could go. “Unless you want me too, of course. How attached to this are you?”
Snake shifted, his eye flicking from Ocelot to the knife and back again. “Not very,” he said finally.
In one deliberate motion, Ocelot cut through the thread. The button flew from Snake’s chest, landing with a tiny clatter as it rolled to its final destination somewhere on the floor. “Good,” he said, using the knife to flick open the top of Snake’s shirt, moving downwards until he reached the second button. He repeated the motion a second, then a third time. By now, Snake’s erection was pressing insistently into his thigh. He got off on the danger, the violence, whether he was on the receiving end of it or not. For Ocelot, it was more about control, the trust inherent in letting someone hold a knife to your throat just for kicks. Something almost like love, if either of them were capable of such an emotion.
Ocelot reached for the next button, this time accidentally-on-purpose grazing the skin underneath. He ran his thumb over the thin line of red as it bloomed through the fabric.
Snake let out a tiny groan that sent shivers down Ocelot’s spine. “My bad,” he said, leaning down to kiss the crook of Snake’s neck.
“Be careful,” Snake grunted.
“Of course,” he said, smiling. He held the blade out to Snake. “You wouldn’t mind cleaning this off for me, would you? Given that you’re the one who got it dirty, and all.”
Snake huffed out a little breath, but took the knife from Ocelot’s hand, glancing down at it. Then, slowly, deliberately, he drew his tongue against the blade, removing any remaining traces of blood.
Ocelot swallowed. “Good boy,” he managed, leaning down to kiss Snake. As usual, they were both ravenous, tongue and lips colliding. He closed his fingers around Snake’s hand, gently unfolding them from the hilt of the knife. Snake ground his hips upwards, and for a moment he considered just giving into the warm embrace of Snake’s mouth. But when Ocelot set his sights on a goal, he wasn’t one to let it get away so easily. He pulled away with a final, gentler kiss. Four more buttons.
Ocelot found the next button and popped it off, his thumb running along a small scar on the newly exposed stretch of skin. “What’s this one?” he asked, tracing the silvery line with the blade of his knife.
“Hm. Bloody Ridge. Shrapnel.”
He nodded, moving on to the next button. “And this?” This scar was thinner and longer, horizontal across John’s ribs.
“Somewhere in Binh Duong. Broken window, didn’t clear the fucking glass properly.”
“And this one?” With his blade, Ocelot traced the outline of a splotchy scar just above Snake’s belly button.
Snake smirked. “Some fuckass cowboy gave me that. New Years, ‘68. Apparently he’d never set off fireworks before. Shot a Roman candle at me. Can you believe that?”
Ocelot shook his head. “How rude of him,” he said, leaning down to gently kiss the old wound. With his other hand, he popped off the final button, exposing the full expanse of Snake’s chest.
“You gonna do my pants next?” Snake said as Ocelot ran his hands down his chest, knife still in hand.
Ocelot chuckled, flicking his thumb across one of Snake’s newly exposed nipples, causing the other man to inhale sharply. “I like these ones too much for that.”
“Didn’t know you had an opinion about my wardrobe choices.”
“They’re tight in all the right places,” he said, tracing his free hand over the bulge between Snake’s legs. “I would like them off right now, though. Would you mind helping me out with that?”
Snake grunted in response, and with Ocelot’s help he shrugged off the remains of his ruined shirt, then his pants. Ocelot’s stomach clenched at the sight of Snake's cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. He pressed his thumb against the wet spot in the center of the fabric, earning him a muffled groan.
“I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Ocelot said, settling beside Snake. Lazily, he traced the top of the waistband with his knife, enjoying the way Snake shuddered each time he added any pressure. Satisfied, he slid the knife under the edge of one of the leg holes, then sliced upwards, slowly tearing through the fabric.
“Almost there,” he said. Snake sighed, but he wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or discontentment. Knowing him, probably both.
He went to repeat the motion on the other side. This time, though, Snake let out a quiet noise as he positioned the knife, catching him off guard enough that the knife slipped, leaving a shallow cut on Snake’s thigh. What was even more surprising was the noise Snake made when he broke the skin, an absolutely sinful moan that Ocelot would be replaying in his head for the rest of the night.
John rested the back of his hand over his mouth, his cheeks going red. Ocelot twirled the knife between his fingers. “You like that,“ he said.
“… yeah,” John said through gritted teeth.
Ocelot’s stomach lurched in delight. Filing that information away for later, he finished tearing off Snake’s boxers, then settled back to admire the view. It was one he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of, the carefully toned planes of muscle, the little trail of dark curly hair from his belly button to his groin, his cock leaking precum onto his stomach-
“Like what you see?” Snake said, smirking up at him.
Ocelot leaned down to drag his tongue across the small cut he’d made earlier, smearing blood across Snake’s hip. He felt Snake grab the back of his head tightly, the body beneath him shuddering as Ocelot flicked his tongue across the wound again.
He lifted his head, grinning at the dazed expression on Snake’s face. “One thing at a time, okay?” he said. “We don’t need any distractions tonight.”
Snake nodded reluctantly, but he seemed to forget all about said distraction as Ocelot straddled him again.
“There’s just one more thing I want to take care of,” he said. Gently, he leaned forward and hooked the knife under the strap of the eyepatch before pausing, tilting his head in a silent question.
Snake swallowed, the movement enough to shift the hand holding the knife just slightly. “Go ahead,” he said.
Ocelot grinned, jerking the knife upwards to break the strap. Gently, he lifted the eyepatch away from John’s face, setting it on the nightstand besides the knife. He cupped John’s chin in his hands, pressing a soft kiss just below the ugly, ruined eye socket. “Thank you,” he said, before leaning in for another kiss, this one on the lips.
All too soon, Snake was pushing him away. “Enough fooling around,” he said, but he was smirking.
“A little desperate, are we?” Ocelot said, grinding his hips against Snake as he spoke. Snake rolled his eye, then gripped the hem of the telynashka and pulled it over Ocelot’s head in one swift motion.
“Oh good, I was worried you were going to rip it off of me,” Ocelot said. “I don’t have an infinite amount of them, you know.”
“Hm. It’s… I like them.” Snake said.
“You do?”
Snake sighed. “I like them… on you. Are you gonna take your pants off? Or what?”
“Certainly,” he said, getting to his feet and removing said pants in a single motion. Now completely naked save for the chain he wore around his neck and his gloves, he grabbed the small bottle of liquid from the nightstand beside Snake, before sitting down beside him.
“You wanna do this? Or would you like me to?” he asked, wiggling the bottle at Snake.
“Whole point is that you do all the work, right?” Snake said, raising an eyebrow.
“Hm. True. I do need just a little help, though.”
He held out one red hand to Snake, who squinted at him for a second before leaning forward to gently work the glove off with his teeth. It was such a pretty picture that he couldn’t help but whine a little, especially when Snake noticed him looking and smirked up at him through dark eyelashes.
“Careful you don’t get too excited, major,” Snake said, letting the glove drop to his chest. Ocelot shuddered as Snake’s hand closed around his cock, pressing his thumb into the slit. “You promised me you’d make this worth my while, remember?”
Ocelot shuddered, fighting to keep himself from bucking upwards into Snake’s grip. “I’ll have to tie you up next time if you keep messing around,” he taunted, working hard to keep his voice level. Thankfully, Snake seemed satisfied with this, letting go of Ocelot and instead carefully setting the glove to the side next to his ruined eyepatch.
Ocelot uncapped the bottle, pouring some out onto his naked palm. At this point, it was easier to do most things with the gloves, given most of the feeling in his fingertips had been burnt away over some careless teenage mistake, but there were some things he wasn’t willing to sacrifice a nice pair for. “Turn over on your side for me, handsome?”
Snake did so, awkwardly propping up one leg so Ocelot could get to work. Snake was tense, as he expected— he usually was regardless, and this was new territory for them. Ocelot gently stroked his leg as he pressed his index finger in.
“You’re lucky I’m a lot less to take than you,” he said softly. “You should have no problem waking up at dawn tomorrow and running all over the city.”
Snake smirked. “Better than your first time. Remember?”
“It would be hard to forget,” Ocelot said, grimacing a little. He’d been younger, dumber and not exactly sober at the time, and he’d insisted he didn’t mind a little pain, which was true until it turned into a lot of pain the next day. Honestly, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant memory, despite the embarrassment. They’d spent the next day together, curled up on the couch watching movies, while Snake nervously doted on him in the grumpy way of his.
Snake laughed. “Sorry, Mr. GRU Commander, sir,” he said in a poor facsimile of Ocelot’s southern drawl. “I won’t be back to work on Monday, some American dipshit broke me with his dick.”
Ocelot bit back a laugh. “John. Focus.”
“You focus,” Snake said, kicking him a little. Despite his protests, he fell silent quickly as Ocelot stroked his inner walls. He took his time stretching Snake, pressing kisses to the insides of his thighs and the underside of his knee as he did so. He added a second finger, watching as Snake’s eyes fluttered shut, his body clenching around Ocelot. He scissored his fingers a few times, then began to gently thrust them in and out, making Snake’s toes curl. A few more minutes, and he felt Snake start to subtly grind down against him, biting his lip. Good.
“One more, okay?” Ocelot said.
“Hrrn,” was all Snake had to say in response. He shuddered as Ocelot’s third finger entered, gripping the sheets with one hand.
“You want it harder?” he teased.
“I want you to quit screwing around,” Snake grumbled.
Ocelot smiled, brushing gently against Snake’s prostate. Snake groaned, redoubling his efforts to grind down into Ocelot’s hand. “Like that?”
“Hh– yeah,” Snake panted, and for a moment Ocelot just sat and watched him. He was so beautiful when he was flustered, every muscle in his body in stark, tense relief, revealing every tiny dimple and patch of scar tissue. All his, ripe for the taking.
“If I knew you were this desperate to be fucked, I would have done this a lot sooner,” he purred, watching Snake squirm against him as he pumped his fingers harder. “You think you can come on just my hand again?”
“Sure. Whatever. Just– hh, don’t stop–”
“Well, too bad,” Ocelot said cheerfully, going completely still. Snake raised his head to give him a glare that would have sent most other men sprinting in the other direction, although it was a little undercut by how disheveled he looked. He dropped his head back onto the pillow with a groan, still glaring at Ocelot.
“Oh, don’t be a baby. You knew what you were getting into.” Ocelot said, carefully easing his hand out of Snake. “I promise this’ll be even better.”
Snake didn’t respond to that, which Ocelot took as a sign to hurry up. He poured more lube onto his ungloved hand, quickly distributing it up and down his shaft. Having to touch himself when he was like this was a little bit tortuous, he thought as he bit back a whine.
“I want you on your back, so I can see you when I’m fucking you,” Ocelot said, trying to distract himself. “Think you can handle that?”
Snake nodded.
“Then go ahead and put the other pillow under your back for me, okay?” he said. “Get you nice and comfortable.”
Snake did so, then spread his legs open, planting one on either side of Ocelot. For a moment, he froze, suddenly struck by the reality of all this. Maybe he’d talked this up too much, it had been years since he’d fucked anyone and he was good at making a story sound convincing–
“Come on, major,” Snake said, bumping his knee into Ocelot’s side in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. “Show me what you got.”
Ocelot took a deep breath. “You got it, handsome,” he said.
John felt wonderful. Warm and tight and soft against him. Immediately, it was much more overwhelming than he’d expected, and he gripped Snake’s arm as though for support as he caught his bearings.
“Feels good?” he asked. He didn’t quite manage the same sultry tone as before, but Snake probably wouldn’t notice. In response, Snake’s legs locked around him, as if to pull him closer.
Ocelot chuckled softly, lowering himself to kiss Snake’s neck. “You’re like a boa constrictor now, hmm?” he said.
Snake just grunted in response. He pressed their mouths together again and found Snake just as eager and insistent as he was, biting down on Ocelot’s lip hard enough to break the skin.
Adam couldn’t help but moan into John’s mouth a little once he was buried inside John to the hilt. He found John’s hand, interlocking their fingers as he pulled away. Their eyes met, and John squeezed his hand, running his thumb gently along the zigzag paths of raised scar tissue. For a moment, they were both still, and quiet, nothing but the sound of the box fan and the distant rush of traffic from outside to break the silence.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked, squeezing Snake’s hand back.
“Yeah, s’good.” Snake said.
“Perfect,” he said. He rocked his hips in a slow, gentle thrust. The effect was instant and obvious– Snake’s cock twitched beneath him as he let out a small choked noise. Ocelot grinned.
“I’m gonna take real good care of you, okay?” He pushed himself up a little higher, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Just let go, John. Relax.”
Snake grunted, staring determinedly somewhere just past his right shoulder. That was alright– this was the fun part, the part where he got to reduce a carefully honed, weapon of a man to a shivering mess.
He set a leisurely, easy pace and watched with delight as John came apart beneath him. It started slow, a fluttering of the eyelids or sudden tension in his shoulders, but after a few minutes he heard John let out a low whine as he gripped the sheets beneath him.
“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, gently stroking Snake’s hand again. “Do you feel good?”
Snake frowned at him for a second, then nodded. “You could, ah— you could go a little faster," he added, a second later, biting his lip.
“Yeah?” Ocelot smiled, speeding up the pace. Snake sighed into it, his body shuddering in pleasure as he closed his eyes. His forehead and chest were now covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his perfect lips parted in a perpetual ‘o’ of delight. Seeing him like this did far, far more to Ocelot than the velvety warmth of him around his cock. At the next thrust, he let out a low moan, his back arching, and Ocelot found himself letting out a soft noise of his own.
“You’re so good for me,” Ocelot said, leaning forward to kiss the exposed arc of John’s throat. “You feel incredible. Look incredible, too.”
Another moan, this one through gritted teeth. Ocelot smiled lazily. The earlier anxiety he’d felt had faded away, replaced by a warm, floaty feeling. Letting someone hold a knife to your throat was one thing, but letting someone see you in your most naked, desperate moments was something else entirely. The fact that John trusted him enough to let go like this made his chest tighten with an emotion he didn’t care to name.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Snake started trying to grind down around him again, clearly begging for more, more, more. Well, alright.
“I want to try something,” he said, gripping one of John’s legs with both hands. “You think you can get that over my shoulder?”
Instantly, John was focused on the task at hand, repositioning himself with his usual grace. “Good boy,” Ocelot praised, stroking his hip before sinking himself in deeper.
“Oh,” John said, his hands suddenly scrabbling for purchase on Adam’s back. “Fuck. You’re…”
“Yeah?” he purred.
If John had more to say, he didn’t seem to be capable of saying it. Adam felt John’s grip tighten on his back, pulling him closer as he panted in Adam’s ear. He kept up the pace as best as he could, though he could feel himself getting dangerously close to the edge as John’s muscles clenched around him.
“You feel good?” he asked.
John nodded. “Don’t– don’t stop.” he gasped.
“I won’t,” he said.
“Think I’m gonna,” John swallowed. “Ffffuck, you’re so deep, Adam… holy shit.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re… oh my god, yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“I knew you’d like it,” Adam said. “You get so worked up when I finger you. But you’re so stubborn, you know. Too stubborn for your own damn good.”
John was clearly not listening, as that was the sort of comment that would get immediate snarky push back under normal circumstances. Instead he got a quiet groan. “Next time I suggest something, you should listen, hmm?” he said.
“Yeah,” John mumbled into his shoulder.
“Because I have a lot of ideas about things I want to do to you,” he said. “Tie you up all pretty for me. Let you ride me, put those gorgeous thighs to work…”
Adam swallowed, realizing he probably shouldn’t think too much about that right now if he wanted John to finish first. “You’ll be more open-minded, next time, yeah?” he said, lifting his head so he could run his hand across John’s cheek.
“Don’t stop,” John panted.
“Promise me, then,” he said. “You trust me, right? Then trust me. Trust me with every inch of you.”
John was quiet for a second. “I trust you,” he said quietly.
“Good,” Adam said, kissing his nose. “You want to come?”
John nodded. “Good boy,” he said, which John responded to with a whine. “Go ahead and come for me, handsome. But I wanna hear how good it feels the whole time, alright?”
He redoubled his efforts– John always liked it hard and fast, and that had worked the previous few times Adam had gotten him to come untouched. John grunted, his body shuddering. “Use your words,” he teased. “How does it feel?”
“Good, so good, so– Oh fuck, there, right there–” He felt John’s whole body tense. “God, keep going, keep going, holy shit-”
Adam couldn’t respond, entirely focused on driving into John as quickly as he could. He was so achingly close, but he couldn’t let up now, not when he had the object of his devotion begging beneath him. A little over-stimulation was nothing. He would give his body, his life for John, whatever it took. Whatever he wanted to take.
“Adam,” John gasped, tilting his head backwards. “Adam, Adam, Adam…”
John’s arms tightened around him, his nails digging deep into Adam’s back. His hips bucked as he came, Adam following close afterwards. He let himself collapse on top of John as he shuddered through a particularly intense orgasm, the sensation of John’s own climax around him sending aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his body.
Adam lay still for a long time, catching his breath. His limbs suddenly felt like they were full of cement instead of blood and tissue. Vaguely, he was aware of John’s thumb moving back and forth where his hand was resting on Adam’s lower back.
He closed his eyes. True, real relaxation was not something he felt often, and especially not without the help of a few more potent sedatives, but he felt like he could probably fall asleep right here and have the best rest of his life.
“You gonna stay in there?” John murmured in his ear.
“Give me a minute,” he mumbled back. John chuckled, then gently lifted himself- and Adam- up off of the bed enough so he could pull the pillow out from underneath him.
“What the fuck,” Adam said to nobody in particular.
“You want it back?”
“No, that was just… hot.” He pushed himself up onto his hands, gently easing his softening dick out of John. “Gonna get something to wipe you off with, you want water, too?”
John shook his head. He stood up, grabbing the towel from the other side of the bed. Adam crossed the room to the bathroom, where he ran it under the faucet for a few seconds before returning.
John was still exactly where he’d left him, looking utterly blissed out and sex-drunk. He smiled a little despite himself as he gently wiped off John’s chest. Thankfully, there wasn’t much there. It had taken some trial and error, but Adam had determined that John hated being sticky with the fire of a thousand passionate suns, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Speaking of that…
“Are you okay with me finishing inside you?” he said. “We can clean that up a little, if you want.”
John shrugged. “Nah, it’s whatever. Probably. I’ll take a shower tomorrow, anyway.”
“Good,” Adam said. He balled up the towel, then chucked it across the room to the overflowing laundry basket, which hit the edge and fell onto the floor. John wolf-whistled sarcastically.
“It would be easier if there wasn’t a mountain of clothes there,” he snipped, curling up on the pillows beside him.
“I think you’d have a problem if I got up and started doing laundry naked.”
“That sounds like the opposite of a problem to me,” Adam said. He rolled onto his stomach, wrapping one arm around John’s waist and propping his chin up with another. “So. Thoughts?”
John gave him a thumbs up.
“I hate you sometimes, you know,” Adam said, poking one hairy leg with his toes. He sighed. “Thanks for indulging me.”
John snorted. “Figured I’m already going to hell for a dozen other more interesting reasons than taking it up the ass from a man.”
“Well, good. Otherwise I’d be awfully lonely down there,” Adam teased. Not that he really believed in anything like that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure John did, not anymore.
He pushed those thoughts away. Another time. John was content for now. “But seriously. You liked it?”
“Yeah,” John said, raising an eyebrow. “Think I made that pretty clear.”
Adam felt his face grow hot. “Just checking.”
“No, it was good. You did good. Eight out of ten.”
“Eight?”
“You cut me!”
“Yeah, and you almost fucking came over it,” he grumbled.
“Well, then, clearly you didn’t do a good enough job,” John said, smirking. “Better luck next time.”
“You’re impossible. I made you come untouched, on your first time–”
“What do you want me to say? You’re good at sex. We had good sex. Eight out of ten just… means we have room for improvement.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Adam grumbled.
“What happened to having a lot of ideas or whatever? You said a bunch of other stuff, something about my legs.” John frowned. “I… sort of lost track of what I was agreeing to, honestly.”
“Oh, just…” Adam drummed his fingers against his cheek. “If you don’t mind me being in charge, it would be fun to tie you up once in a while.”
“Oh, okay.” John said. Then he frowned. “Uh. Why?”
Adam looked down at John’s chest. “Control, I suppose. Plus, you can do like… fancy knots and stuff. It’s… I dunno, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
John shrugged. “We can try it if you want. Doubt I wouldn’t be able to break out of it if I really wanted to.”
“Rude,” Adam said, flicking his chin with one finger. “You know what I do for a living, right?”
“Tying people up with fancy sex ropes?”
“Keep this up and I’ll gag you as well,” Adam said.
They both laughed, then lapsed into silence. Adam rolled back onto his side, nestling into John’s neck.
“Can you turn off the light?” he asked.
John leaned over, and with a few clicks they were plunged into darkness. Adam closed his eyes, listening to the sound of John’s heart beating beneath him.
“You know, most people don’t try to push me anymore.” John said quietly.
“Hm?”
“Room for improvement. The others, especially Zero… it’s like I’m not really a person to them, anymore. I’m like a… mascot.” He said the last word like a curse. “But you don’t do that. You treat me like I’m normal.”
Adam frowned. It was a nice thought, but he wasn’t entirely sure that it was true. He knew he still idolized Snake, probably more than any of the others. Maybe it was because he’d known Snake as a symbol, first, and then slowly that idealized image had been replaced with reality, the man who complained about doing laundry and loved nature documentaries and didn’t know that lotion made jerking off much nicer until he was thirty-two years old. But he could still hold the both images in his head at once.
“That’s a good thing, by the way,” John added, gently running his hand through Adam’s hair. “I like that you do that.”
Adam smiled. “Room to improve, huh? So you will let me tie you up.”
“Jesus. I already said yes to that, didn’t I?” John sighed. “Maybe next weekend,” he added a second later, voice suddenly overcome with sleepiness.
“Next weekend,” he echoed softly.
Adam didn’t know how long this little armistice would last, if next weekend would ever come. He rarely planned for the future. It was part of the reason he’d ended up living here in the first place– he never bothered renting anywhere long term, so it was just easier if someone else was on the lease. Why deal with the hassle, or the disappointment if it all went sideways? They could both be dead tomorrow.
But next weekend? He would look forward to next weekend. He would trust, just a little.
Carefully, he peeled off the second glove and shoved it under his pillow, then wrapped his arms around John tightly. Despite the darkness, it took only a moment for John’s hands to settle over his scarred fingers, squeezing firmly as though they were some kind of lifeline.