Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It didn’t start with dreams.  He thought maybe that would have been easier, if he’d been able to excuse everything as the result of the human subconscious, which was, after-all, notoriously unpredictable. 

But it didn’t start with dreams.

It started with hands.  One day he just…noticed them.  The way they were held, where they were put.  Holding things.  He knew they were strong, and they looked it too.  He hadn’t been thinking of it at the time, but he could remember.  He could look back on their…scuffle and know that he knew that the man’s hands were strong. 

Well, of course they were.  Colonel Young was first and foremost a soldier.  Strong hands connected to strong arms and strong shoulders.  And knowing first hand how well they could grab and pin and strike, maybe it wasn’t so strange for the mind to wander and wonder how well they’d serve to…other purposes.  If sometimes he’d be working at a console and the Colonel would enter the room and he’d sort of…feel his presence and imagine for a moment the sensation of those hands taking hold of him, guiding, groping.  Would they be warm?  Would they be calloused?  Would they move with the same certainty, and would the hot breath on his skin feel the same as it had when…

Not so strange.  To wonder. 

He just wasn’t sure he should like it so much. 

He was lying awake now.  His eyes stared at the ceiling, unseeing.  He was deftly aware of his skin, a familiar tight prickling skittering over him.  Rush had never thought of himself as one of those men ruled by their libido.  Long ago, he’d devoted himself to work, to passions of the mind.  Not that he didn’t have urges, but sex was messy and people were complicated and the reward never quite managed to outweigh the risk. 

Gloria had been different.  Special.  She had been his first and, though she was gone now, remained his only.  He’d been content with that, falling back into old habits.  Work.  Work.  Work.  And when his body demanded attention, he gave it, quickly and as cleanly as possible. 

Which he would be happy to do now if he could just get Colonel Young out of his head. 

He’d never dwelled on fantasies, never found them integral to his life.  Sometimes, when they’d had to spend nights apart, he’d imagined Gloria into his bed, and brought himself to release feeling her skin and breathing her scent.  He always told her about it afterwards, whispering how much he’d missed her, and her lips would quirk in pleased amusement, kiss him deeply and then she’d lead him to bed and make all his dreams come true. 

He’d tried it once since her death but it had left him sobbing into a pillow and he had not repeated the experiment.  In any case, it was hardly necessary.  He’d learned how to stumble through this particular physical response years ago.  He didn’t need any assistance from anyone, real or imagined.   

Especially not Colonel Young.     

Letting out a restrained sigh, the fingers of his right hand rubbing against his thigh, he tried to vanquish him from his mind’s eye.  But there he stayed, his face hovering above him, his uniform clad body fading into the darkness.   Different features pulsed in and out of focus like a camera lens that couldn’t make up its mind.  And Rush was under no illusion that this would dissipate if he just tried to ignore it and get on with things.  He tried to conjure someone else, anyone else (save Gloria) but he didn’t have much practice and it just seemed awkward and disjointed.  Finally, full of exasperated defeat, he flung himself onto his stomach with the intent ignoring the whole problem away and getting what sleep he could.

That was a mistake.

Now it was almost as though he could feel a presence.  It loomed over him, warm and insistent.  His breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes tighter.  There was nothing there.  This was his own mind terrorizing him.  But still…was that breath just behind his ear?  A weight, light but solid, at the small of his back?  He clenched his fists into his bed sheets, fearful of what his hands would do without supervision.  But it didn’t seem to matter because that other hand, the phantom (Young’s) hand spread its fingers along his back and as it did he felt his body—held taught and rigid—relax.  His breath let out, his brow softened, fingers loosened, toes uncurled, buttocks unclenched, and his legs fell open just slightly…

He sat up.  No.

Minutes later he was at a console running numbers.  There was always work to do, after all.  He’d just have to do more of it until his little…problem got better.

It didn’t get better.  It got worse. 

He could barely be in the same room with the man without vulgar shapes and sensations skimming across his consciousness.  And while he did everything to scratch them out as they occurred, like a needle yanked off a record, they just kept coming.  It was ridiculous.  Absurd.  That he couldn’t stop it, that he was to be subjected to this…indignity, by his own rebellious brain no less, was unconscionable and he would not stand for it, he would not. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have a choice.  The moments he spent in proximity with that infuriating man were overshadowed in despicability only by the moments he spent alone.  In the quiet, in the dark, that’s when his control was truly tested, held by the thinnest of threads.  It was an itch, a damnable itch, that only grew as he refused to scratch it. 

He wasn’t queer.  Not that that mattered, it didn’t.  Such semantics of convention weren’t his concern, certainly not here on the other side of universe.  Maybe his body was simply craving a different type of sex, and yes, he’d never needed sex all that much in the past, but things change, people change.  He just needed to adapt.  It wouldn’t bother him, it wouldn’t, if it just wasn’t Young.   Fine, a part of him has come to decide that good buggering sounds like a good idea, so what, but why him?

Maybe he’s what you need.  Someone who won’t put up with you.

He snorted.  Sometimes he thought he’d feel better about the whole thing if he could just understand why, but other times…other times he thought he would trade any possibility of understanding if the whole thing would just stop. 

In any case, doing nothing wasn’t working.  He was enough of a scientist to admit that.  His plight was getting worse and he had no reason to believe it would get better.  Not on it’s own.  He needed to do something.

Anything.

He just needed to get Young out of his head.  And if the itch was this persistent then maybe he should just…scratch.  It.  Get it out of his system.  It wasn’t the most comfortable of prospects.  But, well, it was.  A prospect. 

He grimaced.  Still.  He wasn’t nearly that desperate.  Yet. 

Four days later, he was that desperate. 

He’d barely slept in two days.  He’d been working non stop, which was fine, but even he could see he was on the edge of getting sloppy, and that he refused to do, not now, not for this. 

As he stalked down the hallways he wondered if he’d regret this, but God knew he was past the point of caring.

He stopped outside the door to his destination.  He just needed it to stop.

He knocked.  Hard.

A moment later, the doors swished open.  He looked up.

“I know it’s late.”  He paused.  “May I come in?”

Greer blinked back at him.  Then, with a cocky grin, the moment was broken.

“Why not?”  He said, and stepped aside.

He heard the door shut behind him as he scanned the room.  Bed.  Table.  Chair.  Small, like his.  Not one of their ‘deluxe suites.’

“There something you wanted?” 

He spun around.

“What?”

Greer leaned his back against the door, arms folded.

“That was pretty much my question.”  Rush’s brow furrowed.  Greer smirked.  “You came to see me, remember?”

“Ah.”  Rush took a breath, nodding.  “Right.”

“So,” Greer said, leading.  “What?” 

Rush blinked.

Well.

“You have something a reputation,” he said abruptly.

Greer shrugged.  “Sure.”  Pause.  “Care to be more specific?” 

“Specifically,” he went on.  “That you’ll fuck anything that lies down long enough.”

He could see the soldier’s eyes harden.

Good.

Greer glanced away in a little ‘who cares?’ motion.  “Lying down’s not strictly necessary.”  As he turned back to Rush he pushed off the door, pulling to his full height.  “There something you want to say?  Doctor?”

Rush’s heartbeat suddenly seemed rather loud. 

“Just that,” he flicked his tongue against his teeth.  “I was thinkin’ of having a lie down.”

Greer stared, then snorted.  “You serious?”  Rush just stared back.  Greer face stilled.  Then, very deliberately, he leaned in. 

“I hate you.”

“I wasn’t aware likability was a requirement,” said Rush.  “Certainly not more so than lying down—“

“I’m just saying,” Greer said brusquely, taking a step forward.  “I’m not inclined to be nice to you.”

“That’s not a problem.”

A slight tilt of his head.  “No?” 

“No.”

There was a long pause.  Then, his lip quirked, and Rush knew he had won.

“What the hell?”  He walked past Rush to his duffel bag and rummaged around. He gestured toward the bed.  “Go ahead, take your pants off.”  Rush narrowed his eyes.  Greer raised an eyebrow.  “What, you expected romance?”  He stood up, having found what he was searching for. Lube.  A condom.  Somehow, though unofficially, such things had managed to wriggle their way up the priority list and, with a little ingenuity, weren’t too hard to come by.  “They’re gonna have to come off at some point.”

Rush’s gaze remained cold.  “You first.”

Greer snorted, tossed his supplies on the bed, and undid his belt, then pushed his trousers down and stood, now in his underwear, with a flourish. 

Rush sighed and began to undo his own.  Once they both stood in their boxers, disentangled from shoes and socks, they looked at each other again.  They’d both opted to keep their shirts on.  Rush was fine with that. 

It was here Greer showed his first sign of nervousness.  He stood halfway between Rush and the bed, half turned toward both. 

“So…” He began.  “Do you wanna…?”  When he went to move toward him, Rush simply pushed past him with a small sound of derision and crawled onto the bed.  “O…kay, then.” 

Rush grabbed a pillow and, lying down on his stomach, rested his chin against it.  After a moment, he turned to look over his shoulder.

“Well?”  He demanded.  “Get on with it.”  And he turned away again. 

“…Right.” 

A moment later, he felt the bed dip.  There was an awkward pause, a small sigh, and then he could feel fingers at his hips pulling on the waistband of his underwear.  He lifted up and let Greer pull them off without a fuss, though his throat clenched slightly as air hit his backside.  Fear or excitement?  It hardly mattered.  This is what he’d decided to do and it was too late to turn back now.

He heard the sound of a lid and then there was only the slightest of hesitations before fingers probed at the crack of his arse.  It was cool and wet and—

He brought his nose down to the pillow and breathed in, long and slow. 

It felt good.  Even this, just this, and he could feel the faintest stirrings lower down. 

One fingertip rested at his anus a moment and then pressed—

He blinked.  There was a buzzing in his ears.  He’d been holding his breath. 

Breathe.  Breathe. 

“Y’know, this’d be easier if you got up on your knees.”

Greer sounded disgruntled.

Fine.

Without a word he shifted back on his haunches.  He kept his head down, slid his knees apart.  Even arched his back a bit. 

There.  That should be nice and fuckable for him.

He fought the urge to duck his head further into the bedding or bring up his hands to hide his face. 

“And could you try to relax?  Jesus, you’re like a vice,” he grunted, pressing a finger in more insistently at this new angle.  “When’s the last time you did this?”

“It’s…been a while,” Rush breathed out, trying to relax his taut muscles.  “Before…before Icarus.”  Never, actually, but he wasn’t about to tell him that. 

“Yeah, well,” Greer snorted.  “This may take a while.  Shit, I need more lube already.”

Rush tilted his face to one side.  “I thought you weren’t inclined to be nice to me.”

“I’m inclined to be nice to my dick.  Plus, I’d prefer you not to bleed on my sheets.  We do this at your place—” his index finger slid all the way in, “there we go—whole different story.” 

There really wasn’t much to say to that.  Rush’s eyes fluttered shut.

God, he couldn’t believe how good this was.  There was something in him, moving, in and out, and instead of feeling wrong or grotesque it was just—

He could feel his cock start to twitch now, in time to this…invasion.

He wanted more. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to ask for it.  Soon enough, the one finger pulled out only to return shortly with fresh lubrication and a second.  A moment to find purchase, and they pressed in past the constricting muscle.

“Ah-ugh!”

Everything stopped.

“You alright?”

He gasped for a moment, breathless. 

“Yes.  Yes I’m fine.”

“Ok.”  And with that, he went on.

Shite.  Shite.  There was real stretch now.  It hurt. 

It was wonderful.  Brilliant.  He buried his face in the pillow, let his open mouth pant against the fabric, wet and wanton and God he needed more.

Three fingers and he thought his heart might burst from his chest.  Christ, could that happen?  Not literally of course, but might he go into some kind of cardiac arrest?  And if this was how he felt now, what would happen when…and yet all he could think was how it wasn’t enough.  He needed more, so much more…

When they scissored open it was the sweetest ache he’d ever felt.  He groaned deep in his throat and actually flexed his inner muscles against them.  He didn’t care anymore.  He just needed to enjoy this.

And then it was gone.  It was all gone.  His cock lay full and heavy between his thighs.  His hands were fisted in the sheets. 

He blinked.  “So.  Am I finally soft enough for you to fuck, or have you just tired out?”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m ready.  Though not quite as rarin’ to go as you, apparently.” 

He felt himself sneer, not that his bedfellow could see his face at the moment, and thought about verbalizing his distain, but not for very long, because soon there were hands on his buttocks and something long and hard lining up between the cheeks.

He inhaled through his nose.

There was a screeching, bending feeling, like the planks of a steel bridge gradually collapsing.  It was slow and unrelenting and then with a final snap, Greer’s hips were up against him.  Convulsively, Rush’s palm slammed into the wall in front of him.  Because…because it was too much.  He could feel it.  It was…pulsing and warm and very, very real. 

There was a cock inside him.  He had another man’s prick in his arse. 

And he liked it. 

He really, really liked it because all he really wanted in this moment, this really very brief moment, though time had seemed to slow, was for that cock to get moving and really start fucking him. 

His eyes were very wide now. 

Well then.  Guess we know where we stand then, eh?

As though in slow motion he felt it slide back out of him.  He closed his eyes and, with a hand still braced against the wall and a snarl forming on his lips, when he felt it start in again, he pushed back. 

They hit each other hard and they both grunted from the impact.  But now that was the precedent, and neither could back down.  So they did it again.  And again.  And again.  It was hard and fast.  Brutal, even.   

Almost without realizing it, his other hand found its way between his legs, jerking off furiously.  There was no elegance, no grace, not even efficiency really.  When he came, it was completely sudden.  He felt everything clamp down, pulling him taut before releasing in a burst of wild, expended energy.  Afterwards, he felt drained and could only lie in a heap while Greer finished working in him.  Finally, Rush felt the bulge of the condom as he came inside him.

He grimaced.  Even that felt good. 

Greer collapsed next to him, gasping.  They didn’t speak, but after a few moments Rush rose, slowly, to retrieve his pants and trousers.  He felt sticky, but there was nothing he could do about that at the moment.  Silently he dressed, then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

He glanced over.  Greer still lay on bed, panting and half naked. 

“Yeh,” he started, coughed lightly, then started again.  “So.  Thanks.”  He frowned.  “I suppose.” 

“Hey,” Greer replied.  “No problem.”  He waved a hand.  “Anytime.” 

Rush paused.  “Right.” 

He left.  He reached his own quarters exhausted and collapsed into bed.

It wasn’t until he woke with his alarm that he realized he hadn’t thought of Colonel Young once since entering Greer’s quarters. 

Well then.  In a certain light, that could be considered…success. 

He found himself knocking on Greer’s door again a few nights later. 

“You said anytime.”  He quirked a brow.  “Didn’t you?”

Greer just smirked and stepped aside to let him in.  They didn’t feel the need to talk much after that, for which Rush was much relieved. 

They actually managed to fall into something resembling regularity.  Every few days or so, Rush would go to Greer’s quarters and knock on the door.  Greer would let him in.  Rush would strip from the waist down (he no longer had any sort of shyness about it) and get on the bed—face down, arse up.  They’d fuck.  He’d get dressed.  He’d leave, usually go back to his quarters for a few good hours of sleep.  They didn’t talk much, they didn’t cuddle or even really touch each other more than necessary and, as far as he could tell, nothing seemed to change between them otherwise. 

It was rough, careless sex, each party seeking his own pleasure and not thinking much of the other.  It was their third night together before Greer hit his prostate for the first time.  That had been an extraordinary, if somewhat frightening experience, to know what could happen at the press of a button, so to speak.  After that he’d sometimes try to position himself to encourage that particular angle, though he couldn’t always be bothered and wasn’t always successful.  He didn’t mind, overly.  He could get off fine without it, and that was really the whole point to all this.

Well.  Half the point.  It also worked quite well in it’s other capacity. 

It kept Young out of his head.  For the most part. 

Sometimes, when he was alone at night or during the day, he’d still sneak in, but now Rush had a place to go, something to do about it.  He could just go to Greer and have him fuck it out of him.  And since there was a solution, he no longer had to spend exhaustive time contemplating the problem. 

All in all, he was content with the situation, and the sex.  It was rough, careless, impersonal, self-serving, and it hurt. 

It did hurt.  Not…so badly really, but he’d get sore.  Tender.  There were bruises sometimes. 

He liked that.  Not the bruises especially, he didn’t particularly want a visual reminder, but…the hurt itself, the…

Pain. 

It went straight to his cock.  

He didn’t think it was so unusual.  Sex made all sorts of things feel different.  He remembered bites and pinches, flicked nipples and nails scratching, quite naturally going along with the pleasure of lovemaking.  Perhaps there wasn’t so much overt pleasure now, in the…delicate sense of the word, and he certainly wouldn’t use ‘love’ to describe anything about it, but maybe that was the point.  The pain, it wasn’t more, or worse, just…isolated.  Which gave it an illusion of importance. 

It was nothing to be concerned about.  Really.  Nothing. 

Chapter Text

He didn’t look up at the sound of the door.  He was certain whoever it was would make what they wanted known soon enough.  He felt no need to engage them prematurely.  Maybe a miracle would occur, and they’d see he was working, and just leave. 

There was silence.  No talking or moving, but also no sound of the door reopening that might suggest an exit.  Nothing.  Rush stayed focused on his console for a time, but the seconds ticked by, and still.  Nothing.  Finally he gave in and glanced up.  Colonel Young stood a few paces into the room, arms crossed and feet planted.

He and Colonel Young, alone in the control interface room.  Fan-bloody-tastic.

He turned back to his work.

Young broke the silence.

“I want to talk to you.”

Rush tensed. 

“I’m working.”

“You’re always working.”

Rush looked up indignantly at the dismissal.

“That’s because it’s always important,” he retorted.

“You can spare five minutes.”

Standing and turning a tad more harshly than he’d intended and with unnecessary noise, he crossed his arms defensively. 

“What.  Then.”

Young was quiet a moment.  Rush thought he could see his jaw working, tense and on edge.  When he finally spoke, he was brusque, words falling short and hard from tight lips.

“Greer.”

Rush blinked.

“What?”

Young sighed.

“Greer.  Sergeant Ronald Greer.”

“What about him?”  Rush asked with genuine confusion.

“Don’t!”  Young stepped forward.  “Don’t play that, don’t play with me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”  He exclaimed desperately.

Young took a deep breath, collecting himself. 

“You and Greer,” he said more calmly.  “What’s…going on between...with…you.”

Rush found his eyes searching the Colonel’s face but he could already feel his stomach drop. 

He licked his lips.

“How…how do know about that?”

Young’s face almost softened.

“It’s no that big a ship, Rush.  Word gets around.”

Rush let out a long sigh, turning to brace himself on the console.  Well.  He supposed this was always a possibility.  

“Fine.  Well…then.  Yes.”  

There was a pause.

“Yes?”

He glanced at Young.

“Yes.  That’s what you wanted to know, right?”  He spoke quickly.  “So, yes, we’re—“ fucking, ‘involved,’ having sex  “—sleeping together.  Alright?  Are we done here?”

Young eyes hardened.

“That’s not what I wanted to know.”

“It’s not,” said Rush blandly. 

“No.  I already knew that.”

“Then what—“

“I want to know,” said Young, cutting him off.  “What the hell you think you’re doing.”

“…Excuse me?”

“What.  The hell.  Are you doing?”

Rush opened his mouth.  “Are you serious?” 

Young just stared.

Rush took a deep breath.  “I don’t see how that’s any of you’re business.”

“He’s my master sergeant.”

“So fucking what?”

“So, he’s under my command, I’m responsible for hi—“

“—who he fucks?”  Spouted Rush incredulously.

Young let out a low, irritated sound from the back of his throat.

“I’m responsible for him.  I…I need to look out for him.”

“Look out for him?”  Rush sputtered.  “I’m not exactly his first bedfellow, you know.  You have this chat with Doctor Park?”

“No, of course not.”

“Of course not!”

“Don’t try to act like it’s the same thing!”

“Oh no!  Not the same at all.”  He paused for breath.  “You still haven’t explained how this, in any way, has anything to do with you,” he said, sneering and vicious.

“I already told you.  I’m his commanding officer.  That means more than just giving orders.  It means it’s my job to protect him, as much as I can.” 

“What do think I’m going to do?”  He said, exasperated.  “‘Break his heart’?  Believe me, it’s not that kind of situation.”  Thoroughly done with this nonsense, he returned to his work.  He felt hot.  God, his hands were almost shaking.  He couldn’t believehow furious he was.  Impulsively, unable to resist getting one last dig in, he looked back up, and with feigned casualness said, “Or shall we simply add homophobia to your growing list of inadequacies?”

Young merely rolled his eyes.  “Please, I couldn’t care less about that.”

Rush finally lost patience.  “Then what exactly is your problem!”

Young was quiet for a long while. 

“Nothing.  No problem.” 

Without another word, he turned toward the exit.  Rush went back to the console, trying to reclaim his thoughts.  He heard the door open. 

“He’s too young for you.”

Rush looked up at sound of Young’s voice, but somehow he was already gone.  The door was shut. 

Thump thump thump thump thump thump

Rush shifted his weight and tried not to sigh too loudly.  He thought about moving a hand between his legs tp attempt to liven things up a bit, but honestly he couldn’t conjure up the energy.   

Thump thump thump thump thump thump

Greer had been at it a while back there, so likelihood was this wasn’t working brilliantly for him either.  Although, now that he thought about it, he’d never exactly timed their sessions before.  Maybe it had always taken this long.  Greer never took much care with him, which had never posed much of a problem before.  It certainly wasn’t the discomfort involved.  In fact, he wouldn’t reject the idea of a little more…it was just all so…

Thump thump thump thump thump thump

Monotonous. 

He sighed again.  Routine, he’d thought, was a good thing.  Reliable.  Uncomplicated. 

He let his nose fall deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes.  Hopefully Greer would just finish soon.  He’d given up on himself for tonight. 

Then his eyes snapped open.  He’d thought…it was his imagination, of course, but he’d thought he’d felt something.  A brush, on the side of his face, against his hair maybe. 

He raised his eyes, slowly, cautiously—afraid, though he had no reason to be.     

And then he almost had a heart attack. 

It wasn’t really him.  It was obvious, only a ghost figure of his imagination.

He squeezed his eyes shut, paralyzed. 

When he looked again, Young was looking back at him.  The figment met his eyes, steadily and sturdy, with all the eternal assurance of a stone.  Then, slowly, his gaze shifted.  The eye line moved up and over, and Rush could imagine as it slipped past his limp hair, slim shoulders and back to where…where…

Rush watched Young watch Greer fuck him.  His face grew hot and his throat clenched.  His fists tightened and he could actually feel the prickle of tears. 

It was shame. 

He was also harder than he could at this moment ever remember being. 

Going from zero to sixty, as it were, left him feeling heady, and he wavered unsteadily, pushing up on one arm to get the other hand to where he so desperately needed it all of a sudden.  He gripped bits of the pillow in one fist and himself in the other and stared determinedly down at nothing. 

And then there was another sensation, faint in its unreal-ness, but also insistent.  Ghost fingers touched lightly under his chin, a thumb gliding along his jaw.  A finger came and rested, all rough smoothness, on his bottom lip.

He opened his mouth, and it came inside.  His eyes fell closed again.  God, he could just about taste it, feel it, heavy and alive, searching, reaching.  He felt his inner cheeks and tongue tensing as they sought to suck on something that wasn’t there.

He came, hard. 

Greer finished not much later, he was fairly certain.  He couldn’t really tell as he lay there, limp and unmoving, eyes open and fixed like glass. 

He felt Greer move away and blinked rapidly as he forced himself up and out.  Away.

This wasn’t working anymore. 

He gathered his clothes and dressed in silence, his thoughts somehow racing and stalled at the time.  The gas was on but he’d forgotten the clutch.  He couldn’t engage. 

“…O-kay, then.”

He looked up.

“Sorry?”  He looked at Greer, who was watching on the bed, a strange look on his face.  “Did you say something?”

Greer snorted.  “I just said, see you around.” 

“Oh.  Right.”

“Right.  Yeah.  Till…next time.” 

Rush started to nod, then stopped, brow furrowing. 

“No.”

Pause.

“Sorry?”  Greer asked, quizzically. 

“No.”  Rush repeated.  He met Greer’s gaze.  “No next time.”

“Oh.”  He blinked.  “Okay then.”

Rush did nod then, finished buckling his belt, and left. 

There was no fallout to their ‘break up,’ as far as he could tell.  They just went back to their previous disinterest laced with vague animosity.  He was glad for that.  He certainly felt no ill will toward Sergeant Greer about what had happened.  Their arrangement had simply ceased to have its desired effect, so there was no point in continuing it. 

The question was where to go from here.  The original intent had been to shake this, for lack of a better word, infatuation.  To get Young out of his head and prevent any kind of real indulgence in that ridiculous preoccupation. 

That, after last night, appeared to be a dismal failure.

What was strange was that it didn’t seem as catastrophic as he’d imagined.  It was almost as if, having been forced to face his fear, it no longer loomed quite as fearsomely.  He’d thought of Young being there while he was having sex, he’d gotten off on him being there, but nothing had really changed, had it?  He certainly didn’t act any differently towards the man, he was certain.  Alright, maybe he was a tad more irritable towards him, but that was a matter of degrees.  And maybe he found himself stealing looks and glances, subconsciously storing up details, but it was nothing noticeable.  It was an arbitrary fixation.  Stress could do strange things to people, he knew.  Really, it was nothing to get caught up on.   

Which is why he saw nothing wrong when his thoughts wandered to the Colonel as he lay in bed, pants and trousers tangled round his ankles and three fingers up his arse. 

His other hand gripped himself, tugging in rough, measured strokes.  He was on edge, unable to push himself over and, as usual it seemed, his mind wanted to help his body by conjuring the Colonel.  He no longer cared.  This was his new routine.  It was better, really.  More private. 

Tonight, however, it was no vague, ghostly silent figure brought from no where and no when.  Tonight was very specific. 

The air was hot and dry.  The ground was hard.  There was dust, everywhere. 

Are we done?

He gasped shallowly, chest tight.

We’ll never be done.

The spark down inside him intensified, sure and strong, and a grim whine strained from behind his clenched jaw 

Young had him on his back.  Hard hands gripped him, pinning him. 

And then Young went for Rush’s belt, for his waistband, pulling.  Rush struggled, of course.  He fought, kicked and squirmed, and tried to crawl away.

Rush flipped himself over on the bed.

He’d try to crawl away, pulling at the ground with his arms and kicking with his feet.  But he wouldn’t get away.  Young would grab the waistband of his pants and pull them down, using Rush’s own frantic force to disrobe him. 

He’d be bared, to the hot sun, to the dust and the dirt, and to Young’s strong hands, which would grope and pull him back by the hips. 

Rush panted into his mattress, hands working fiercely.

Young would put his own knees between Rush’s legs and spread them.  He’d get his cock out and grip Rush by the arse, spreading it too, baring it to the air.  He’d spit into his crack and—

Fuck, that’s disgusting.

Rush blinked.  He couldn’t really argue with that. 

What the hell is wrong with you?

He stared at nothing, frozen. 

Shut up.

Just, shut up.

Young would fuck hard and deep, he’d rip into him and not care if he screamed.  Wait, no, no—he’d beg first.  First, Rush would beg.  ‘Please, no, stop, don’t do this, please, God please’.  But no one would listen, and Young would rip into him, and he’d scream and plead, and Young would put a fist in his hair and whisper obscenities into his ear. 

You’ll take what I give you like a good little whore, you sniveling bitch, sniffing around, making trouble when all you need it a good strong fuck up the ass.

He’d probably bleed.  He clenched his fingers, digging his nails into himself and spreading them wide, trying to get something of the harsh stretch and hurt. 

You like that?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Course you do.  Never knew a bitch that didn’t like a hard cock up its cunt.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, biting at his lip and trying to…to…

Go on then.  Go on and come, you slut fag.

Spilling over his fingers he took two deep breaths before grabbing for the cloth by his bed and wiping his hands.  Then he fixed his clothes and blinked into the dark, heart still racing. 

This should be the last time, he thought to himself.  The last time.

It wasn’t.  He wanked off to Young again the next night.  And the night after that.

That’s when the dreams started. 

Rush had gotten used to nightmares, to waking up in cold sweats, gasping for air, slamming against clear glass that wasn’t there, memories of pervasive water and peering eyes lurking in the depths of sleep.  Now, the chill of that alien ship would often morph into something hot, and oh so very human.

Sometimes Young would just hold him down and fuck him.  Sometimes he’d tie him up first.  Often, he’d hurt him.  He’d bruise and bite and break him down with words full of filth and rancor.  Sometimes they were on Destiny, sometimes there was no discernable setting.  More than once they were on that blasted planet. 

He’d often wake in the middle of it, dreams fading into conscious fantasy. Fantasy, so well dismissed in his previous life, had become his way of life.  Over and over, he got off to the conjured depravity of his own mind.

And he could tell it wasn’t helping, it wasn’t alleviating anything.  It wasn’t scratching the itch, not really.    

Because he was starting to want it.  Really.  Truly. 

Want. 

But he couldn’t seem to stop. 

It was hell.  And he wanted it more than anything to be real.

“I want to know what the hell you thought you were doing!”

Jesus Christ, not again.

“I was trying to fix the problem!  That is what I’m meant to do, yeah?”

His temper was short.  Sometimes he thought he was in a never ending argument with Young.  Not a series of arguments, just…the same…fucking…argument, stretched on and on and on and—

“You could have told someone what you were doing!”

It was like purgatory.

“I do not have time to explain my every move to the swarm of imbeciles—“

Young threw up his hands.  “Here we go.”

“—who populate this ship!”

“You cannot keep isolating yourself with this bullshit, cutting yourself off and hoping someone bothers to pull you back.”

“I…” Rush gaped.  Of all the ridiculous— “I don’t do that.”  

“Of course you do.  It’s what you do, what you always do.  You’re doing it now!”

Rush just stared.  “What—?“

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Young punctuated.

“…So?”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning, and where are you?”

Rush looked around with his eyes, pointedly. 

“The control interface room,” he said slowly, as if he were talking to an idiot.  Which he was.   

“Right.  And why?”

Rush made a helpless gesture with his hands.  “I’m working.”

“You’re always working,” said Young through gritted teeth. 

“There’s work to do!”

“For fuck’s sake…”

“What?  What?  So what?  What business is it of yours?”  The least he could do was stay out of his life,out of his work.

“I’m the commander of this ship—“ Rush rolled his eyes.  “—what happens on it is my business.”

“So, you can stick your nose in whenever it suits you then, is what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I—“

“You know,” Rush cut in snippily.  “A twenty-four hour solar based time measurement system isn’t even applicable out here.”

“SHUT UP!”  Remarkably, Rush did, startled.  “Just shut up!  I don’t care what you do, Rush, but you have to do something different because what you’re doing now isn’t working.  We’ve been lucky so far, but one of these days, you are going to screw up and there’s going to be nobody there to catch you, and we both know this ship cannot afford that.  What you’re doing is selfish and juvenile and dangerous.”

“Juvenile?”  Rush demanded, outraged. 

“Yes!”  Young said, not backing down.  “I swear to God, Rush, it’s like dealing with a child.  You sure as hell sulk and throw tantrums like one.”

“I thro—“ Rush broke off, nearly shaking.  “So you’re here to what?  Give me a spanking?”          

It was a full second before what he’d said truly registered. 

Don’t panic, he thought.  There’s no way he can know, not from that.  He stared Young down trying to keep the same expression while trying not to look like he was trying to keep the same expression. 

Young’s face was as unreadable as ever.  It was one of the many infuriating things about him. 

He’ll think it’s a quip, at worst a bluff.

He hadn’t spoken yet, which was a little disquieting. 

How long had they been staring at each other?

A few seconds probably, not long at all. 

Best do something anyway, before it does go on too long.

He sneered.  “I didn’t think so.”  And turned away.  He went back to his console to give himself something to do.  He could hear Young’s footsteps in measured retreat toward the door.  He breathed in through his nose, then slow and low out through his mouth. 

Then he heard something odd.

His brow furrowed.  He looked up and moved in front of the next console to get a better look.

Young stood there, a few yards away, hands clasped behind his back.  Just looking at him. 

He’d locked the door. 

“Turn around.”

Rush blinked. 

“What?”

“Turn.  Around.” 

Young stood, immoveable, like granite.  Rush felt frozen himself, though far less sturdy. 

What was happening?

He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…

He should laugh at him, make him feel foolish, embarrass him until he leaves. 

He should attack him, accuse him of misconduct, bully him, make him feel guilty and ashamed. 

He should pretend not to hear. 

He should punch him. 

He should run away. 

But then…

This is what he wanted. 

Before he fully realizes it, his hand is reaching back toward the console, using it as an anchor as he turns around. 

As he turns.

Around.

A few deft movements and he locks the console.  With hands that aren’t quite shaking, he slips off his glasses and lays them on the blank screen, then braces himself against it. 

He hears movement but he can’t really focus.  His ears are ringing.  His eyes are wide but he can’t seem to see anything.  His stomach is in his lungs, his heart is in his throat and his head is floating somewhere toward the ceiling.  Then— 

BANG

—he gasps, and suddenly, all at once, he is pulled down and into himself and he can see everything. 

BANG

The lights are all bright and blinking, he can feel the metal under his fingers, he can feel the muscles and tendons in his fingers, through his hands and arms and everywhere. 

BANG

His lungs are breathing in and out, even and enveloping and he swears he could feel the individual atoms of oxygen as they’re being sucked in.

BANG

The sound is all around, echoing, and it’s as though he can feel the sonic waves vibrating through him.

BANG

And he can feel pain; a burning, aching, growing pain because he is being spanked.   Someone is smacking his arse.

BANG

Hard. 

Really hard. 

Jesus Christ. 

He drops his head down between his shoulder blades, held taught and tight as his knees start to shake a bit. 

It’s unrelenting.  Over and over, measured and strong like a fucking metronome.  His hands grip tighter for purchase and his whole body staggers under each blow.  He’s also been crying out for a while now.  Well, not crying out really, but he is making noise.  Small noises.  Gasps and starts, strains and yelps, hisses, grunts, and whines. 

He doesn’t weep, not with tears.  He doesn’t scream. 

Every piece of him feels pulled and stretched, like a rubber band about to snap. 

And his arse is on fire. 

He thinks he can feel more details now, as though he’s hyper-sensitized and can really feel the shape of the hand through his trousers; hand, fingers, fingerprints, indenting themselves into his raw and roughened skin. 

Young’s fingerprints. 

He can’t take another second.

He doesn’t want it to stop.

And his cock is so hard he’s afraid it might rip through his fucking zipper.

And it’s in that moment that he starts to worry. 

Because Young isn’t stopping, he isn’t stopping and Rush is becoming dangerously close.  To coming, that is.  In his fucking pants. 

Fuck.

He can’t think, he can’t think, and his blood his rushing in his ears and if he would just stop, just stop for a second so he could think, but it just goes on and on, and he’s starting to panic now, and his heart is beating very fast and his cock is aching and his arms and shoulders are practically quivering, and he just doesn’t want to…doesn’t want to…to…

“STOP!”

And it does.  Immediately.  But he can’t seem to stop talking, low and frantic and breathless after the desperate shout that was ripped from his throat.

“Stop, stop please, please stop, stop, stop, please, please, stop.”

The sound of Young’s footsteps is like the ticking of a bomb as he walks around toward Rush’s upper body.  Rush’s head remains bowed and he can see Young’s shoes come into view, just off to his left. 

He doesn’t move.  He can’t.

“Did you say something?”  Young’s soft voice is pointed.  “Is there some kind of ‘problem’?”  There’s something in it he’s supposed to get, he’s sure, but he just can’t right now, can’t decipher, can’t think. 

“I said,” Young speaks again, the same low and leading tone.  “Is there a problem?”

And in that moment he can’t say anything but the truth. 

“I’m close,” he gulps out tightly. 

There’s a long pause.

“What?”  His voice is quiet.  Rush looks over only with his eyes.  Black.  Black boots, black trousers. 

“I’m close,” he repeats. 

He can’t see it, can’t bring himself to look higher than Young’s kneecaps, but he can feel it as well as if it was the Colonel’s hand and not his eyes that sweep over him to find the bulge at his crotch. 

And then there is a hand there and Rush is certain he stops breathing at that point. 

It reaches over and opens him up and yanks him out and then that hand is on his hand, guiding it to himself, wrapping it around himself, squeezing him through his own hand, pointing him down at the floor, firm and warm and immobile.

“Don’t.  Move.”  And he must be so near, he can feel breath against his ear.  “Not one inch.”

And then he’s gone, out of sight.

Rush takes a deep breath, because he knows what’s coming next.  He just knows. 

It starts again. 

BANG

Rush’s eyes slam shut and he falls forward.  He leans into his elbow, the whole arm pressed against the console now.  Young, the force of his hand, virtually slams into him, pushing and pushing and pushing and it’s a straight line, a live wire, from each strike to his groin.  His balls are tight; his cock is pulsing. 

He doesn’t rub.  He doesn’t stroke.  He doesn’t move his hand at all.

Not.  One.  Inch. 

But soon he’s spilling anyway, spurting out through open air, jerking, shaking, spasming his orgasm out of himself and into the room. 

He has barely the time to blink the stars from his eyes before his arms are being pulled behind him, first one wrist, and then the other, bound in a single tight grip at the small of his back.  Another fist takes hold of his hair, pulling him back a step and forcing him to his knees.  His arms are borne up at an unnatural angle levering his head and shoulders downward.  Gripped by the head and wrists, knees splayed, his body is bowed, prostrated, his nose inches from the floor. 

“Clean it up.”

He blinks, clearing his vision.  Ah. 

Not just the floor then.  His cum lies splashed against the metal decking. 

He shifts his eyes to the extreme periphery, finding Young’s face not too far over his shoulder.  He scans over the firm jaw, dry lips and cool eyes.  Their gazes lock. 

“Lick.  It up.” 

Unreadable. 

Unmoving, eyes still on Young, Rush—tentatively, tremulously—sticks his tongue out toward his…mess. 

The first stickiness hits the very tip of his tongue, thick and wet and like a shot his tongue is back inside mouth, eyes squeezed shut, a grimace coloring his lips.

That was disgusting. 

He swallows hard, parts his lips, and tries again.  Staring fixedly on his task, he laps at the pearly substance issued from his own body, choking it down his throat as he fights down bile.  It gets easier as he goes, his focus narrowing to a repetition of actions: lick, gulp, swallow; lick, gulp, swallow.  Eventually it reaches the point where he’s picking up traces with the flat of his tongue, long strokes sliding over the hard, cold surface, like a cat cleaning its fur instead of one lapping up milk. 

And just as he’s finished, the very moment, the hands grasping him are gone.  It’s so sudden he pitches forward, his newly freed arms rushing forward to hold him up.  On all fours, he gasps for breath. 

When he looks up, Young is nearly to the door.  He opens it, steps out, closes it behind him, and is gone. 

Rush looks down at his lap where his pants still hang open.  He sits back, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He’d better fix himself up.  Someone could walk in.   

Chapter Text

Young propelled through the hallways of Destiny.  If anyone had been there to see him, with his hunched shoulders and flaring nostrils, they’d probably think he looked like a raging bull.  His nails bit the palms of his hands and he thanked God every time he turned a corner and saw no one.  He didn’t pause or slow down till he reached his quarters and even then his stride hardly faltered as he stepped inside.

He went straight to what he’d taken to thinking of as his ‘grooming nook.’  It was really just a counter top, not even a very spacious one, but it had a mirror so he didn’t have to shave blind.  Arms out straight and shoulders square, he leaned almost his full weight against the counter and counted to ten. 

Then he looked up. 

His own face was staring back at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He spoke out loud. 

The reflection didn’t answer and the words were left on their own, flat and grim. 

He scowled.  Then with a disgusted snort, he dropped his head and undid his pants. 

He brought himself off right there, with one hand braced on the counter and the other working furiously on his dick. 

Jesus, he felt like he’d been hard for hours. 

He came quickly, wiped himself off with a scrap of cloth from the counter, then threw it back down and did himself up. 

He turned back to the mirror and looked himself in the eyes, expression hard.

I hate you, he thought evenly. 

From the look of it, the feeling was mutual. 

He turned away, kicking off his shoes as he went, and fell into bed. 

He didn’t sleep.  Or if he did, he dreamed of sleeplessness. 

The bustle in the mess hall was a moderate, steady one.  People were less likely to come all at once at those times when food was neither overly scarce nor particularly interesting.  Still, it was a natural place for socialization and there was a quite a bit of lingering and chatting, even at breakfast. 

Rush hadn’t come in yet. 

Young knew this because he’d come in early, found a spot that gave a good view of the entrance and most of the mess and, with some papers to give the appearance of busy work, been watching for him ever since. 

He’d eaten slowly, trying to drag that out as long as possible.  He’d started over a cup of hot water with whatever was passing for tea these days, nursing it while claiming a slight headache.  Then he’d gone back for a plate and a second cup.  Finally, he’d resorted to scanning blankly over the pages he’d brought and pushing around scraps. 

“Morning, Colonel!  Spending some time with us grunts today?” 

Scott.  Good.  Another distraction. 

He pasted a good natured smile on his face. 

“What can I say?  Even Colonels get lonely sometimes,” he quipped. 

“Awww!” 

They laughed.

Scott moved on. 

He flicked his eyes back toward the door.

Damn it.  Where was he?

“Good morning, Colonel.” 

Chloe stood there, holding a tray. 

“Good morning, Ms. Armstrong.”

She snorted.  “Oh God, does anyone here still call me that?  It’s Chloe, please.”  She seemed genuinely embarrassed. 

Sweet girl. 

“Chloe, then.”  He made sure to smile at her.

“Um,” she hesitated, awkwardly.  “It looks like you’re almost done, but…may I sit with you?”

“Of course!”  He said, automatically.  “I’d love the company.”

Shit.

“Great!”

Fantastic.  A little diversion to cover up his…well, stalking seemed a strong word—but he didn’t wanted to be distracted himself…

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

…and miss him. 

“Oh?”  He said, feigning interest.  She was seated across from him.  That was good; he could easily look past her shoulder to see the door.  He just had to make sure not to do it too much.  The last thing he needed was for her to look behind her trying to see what was distracting him.   

“I’ve been talking to T.J.  And…well…I know I’m not qualified or anything, and I guess it makes it sort of complicated to have a civilian…”

What the hell was she talking about?

“…but she could really use the help and, if it’s ok with you, I was wondering if I could ask her to put me in some more…regularized training.  And to act as her assistant for whatever she needs,” she added hurriedly.

Oh.  That was actually a good idea.  Having just one medic for the whole ship really made no sense.

“That sounds great.”

She blinked.  Then, a huge smile burst across her face.  “Really?”

“Really.  Run it by T.J., have her talk to me about logistics, but if she likes the idea it’s ok by me.”

And there he was.  Rush.  Coming though the door, just like it was any other day. 

“Well, that’s just…thank you!”  Chloe started eating with more relish then, and chatting away at things it was much easier to phone in about. 

Rush looked fine.  That is, he looked the same as he always did.  Young was pretty sure.  He watched him as he went through the short line to get his breakfast.  He’d never really looked at him this closely before but it certainly didn’t seem to have any discernable differences about him.  Same gait, same speed, same movements.  Absolutely no indication that…anything had happened.  Young’s eyes continued to follow him as he found a, as usual, secluded spot at the tables, away from all the mealtime chatter.  He climbed over a bench with his typical hurried movements, plopping down his tray and—

There.  There it was. 

It was tiny.  No one would notice, he was certain, unless they were looking for it, but there, right there, there was the slightest hesitation as he sat down.  Just a second, a…pause really, a breath before he hit the seat.  Tiny.  Miniscule.  Hardly noticeable. 

But it was there. 

And as he ate, impatient as always, his weight seemed pitched just a little bit more forward than his usually was.  Like he was trying to keep his weight toward the front of his thighs rather than the back of his—

Anyway. 

There was something there, was the point.  No hope of it being some delusional nightmare then. 

Not that he’d had much to begin with.  Hope, that is.

There was something poignant in that.  Irony or foreshadowing or a motif.  Something literary.  He remembered being ok at English, back in the day, but now it was all fuzzy. 

And that’s when Rush looked up from his plate and Young realized he was still staring at him. 

They locked eyes. 

Everything went quiet. 

And then it was over.  Rush simply looked back to his meal, finished it with typical swiftness, got up and left. 

All without once looking back at Young. 

The rest of the day went by with complete ordinariness.  They were stuck in FTL, so everyone was doing they’re typical preparation routine, trying to simultaneously take advantage of the quiet, while getting ready for the next disaster.  Young spent the day surveying the ship and catch up with administrative duties.  Rush, as far as he could tell, was with, or at least next to, the rest of the science team working their seemingly infinite list of B level problems. 

Young also spent the day slowly losing his mind. 

He just kept waiting.  He was sure that, at any moment, the proverbial other shoe would proverbially drop and the shit would hit the fan. 

Was that another proverb?  Shit hitting the fan?  Or was that just a metaphor?  Were all proverbs metaphors?  And if so, was dropping shoes and shit hitting fans in one sentence mixing metaphors? 

What in hell had he just been thinking about? 

Oh right.

Losing his mind.

Any second he expected a message from Earth, something vague about “evaluating recent circumstances.”  Or for Camille to track him down, all righteous anger and surety, demanding he step down or face a tribunal or something.  Or Rush himself to confront him, alone or, God, in front of everyone, as he spewed frenzied accusations full of rage and hurt and fear.  And what would he say?

What the hell would he say?

It seemed like a good idea at the time?

Was that even true?

Instead, there was nothing.  The hours went by and still, nothing. 

So he was left just…waiting. 

He couldn’t take it.  Anything was better than this. 

He found himself back in the control interface room without having any memory of deciding to go there.  He’d just been walking and, suddenly, there he was. 

Back on familiar grounds. 

It was still early—well, early enough that most of the science team would still be working.  Brody and Park were each busy in their own corners, one at a console, the other fiddling with wires.  Volker, he knew, was working in Hydroponics.  Eli was probably off playing with Kinos.

And there was Rush.

He took a deep breath. 

His approach was quiet, though he didn’t really mean to be.  He actually wished Rush would notice he was there.  Then he wouldn’t have to…announce himself. 

Ah, well.

“Ah-hem.”  God, that was pathetic. 

Rush looked up and, a second later, looked startled. 

“Colonel,” he said, haltingly. 

Young jumped in before he could open his mouth to say something else.

“I wanted to talk to you.”  The words came out rushed.  He needed to calm down. 

“Talk?”  Rush was unnervingly blank. 

“In private,” he clarified. 

Rush blinked vacantly, then, gesturing with his eyes, “I’m working.”

“When you’re done, then,” he replied promptly.  God, Rush was being quiet, so quiet.  It was wrong, completely wrong, like when—

“Alright.”  Rush spoke slowly, but he was nodding.  Young nodded back. 

“Let me know when you’re done?”  He asked, indicating his radio. 

Rush nodded again.  “Yeah.”  The word was tacked on, as though he’d forgotten about it till the last minute. 

Young left quickly.

That way he didn’t have to look at his face anymore.   

It was many more hours before he heard from him.  He didn’t mind the waiting this time.  He hadn’t expected anything different.  He’d gone through the rest of the day in a stupor.  He’d hardly heard anything said to him, hardly tasted his dinner (which was pretty refreshing, actually), and hardly noticed the time going by.  When the day had worn on and then definitively become night, he’d tried waiting in he quarters, but while he didn’t feel restless exactly, he also knew that wasn’t where he wanted to be.

Which is how he found himself here, in the Observation Deck, leaning against a railing and staring out as blue light streaked by hypnotically and letting it blur the passage of time as easily as it did space.

Crackle crackle

“Rush to Colonel Young.”

There was long pause. 

Then, he picked up his radio and pressed the button.

“Colonel Young here.”

Another long pause.

“You wanted to discuss something?”

Click.  “I did.”  Click.  Pause.  Click.  “I’m in the Observation Deck.”  Click.

There was no response.

He was probably on his way, then. 

He checked his watch.  It had gotten quite late.  Not late enough to be early, but still.   

He turned his gaze back to the windows, letting himself again get lost in the light. 

Not too much later, he heard footsteps behind him.  They stopped, briefly, then picked up again.  A moment later, Rush had joined him by the railing, nearly matching his own pose. 

“I never get tired of this view.”

He was almost surprised when Rush answered. 

“Well, it’s a good thing.  It’s gonna be around for a while.” 

Young couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I guess that’s the popular wisdom.  I’m always surprised there are aren’t more people here.”

Rush shifted, looking over his shoulder at the empty room.  “Yeah.  Guess we got lucky.” 

“Mm,” Young rumbled uncomfortably.  “Either that, or it’s the middle of the night.” 

At that, Rush fell silent. 

Finally, Young sighed.  If he was going to do this, he’d better fucking do it. 

“Look, I,” he started half turning toward his counterpart.  “I wanted to say that—” he broke off. 

God damn it.   

He took a deep breath, and looked Rush straight in the eye.  “I wanted to say, that I’m sorry.  That is,” he stumbled.  “That is, I am sorry.  I’m sorry.” 

For a moment, Rush didn’t say anything.  Then, with a small shrug, he looked back out towards the window.  “For what?”

And with those two words, whatever calm he’d managed to salvage just evaporated. 

“God damn it, Rush!”  He couldn’t make any thing just a little bit easy could he?  “You’re really gonna make me—“

He cut off abruptly.  He wasn’t the one who deserved to be angry here.  If Rush wanted to make this hard on him, well, he wasn’t in any position to complain.    

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second and collected himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke in measured, deliberate tones.  “For what…for…last night…for what I—“

“No, no!”  He looked up sharply.  Rush looked distressed, and though his voice was low, he’d spoke with urgency.  “I didn’t mean…” Rush sighed, then, speaking lowly.  “I meant…you…you don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

Young went completely still.

“Is that a joke?”  He spat. 

Rush blinked at him. “What?  No.”

“Because it’s not very funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke!”

“Then what the hell was it!”

“It…the truth?”

Young just gaped a minute, chest heaving. 

“Are you insane!”

Rush gaped right back at him.  He didn’t seem to know what to do and that just wasn’t fair at all, because Young was pretty much at a loss himself.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. 

Rush.  Never doing what he’s supposed to. 

“Look,” Young went on deliberately, trying to pull things back to where they made sense.  “I just…I just wanted to talk to you and say that I’m sorry and that…that I’ll support whatever…action you choose to take.”

“What are you blathering about?”  Rush looked properly irritated now.  “What the hell does that mean, action?” 

“It means…” Young swallowed.  “If you decide to…report this, I—“

“Report it?”  Rush snapped scornfully.  “To whom?  For what?” 

Young made an exasperated gesture.  “I don’t know.  Stargate Command?”  Rush just continued to stare incredulously.  “To…if you wanted to press charges.  Or something,” he ended, lamely. 

Rush was motionless.  “Charges?”  It was practically a whisper.  Then, his eyes went wide.  “You…” He stopped, seemingly caught in his own thoughts. 

“What?”  Young asked when he didn’t continue.  Rush locked his eyes on him, like he’d forgotten he was there. 

There was a long pause where Rush stood frozen.  No, not frozen.  Like glass.  Like he was made of glass. 

When he broke out of his stillness, Young could almost hear the shattering. 

“What you think,” Rush started carefully.  “Isn’t…didn’t happen.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  Well,” he paused.  “Not criminal anyway.” 

Young couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“I—“ Young chocked off.  “I assaulted you.”

“No,” Rush replied firmly, eyes fixed on a forty-five degree angle.  “You didn’t.”

“How can you…?  What I did to you…”

“You didn’t do anything to me.”

“Don’t!  Don’t try to act like it didn’t happen, not when—“

“You didn’t do anything,” Rush cut in.  “I didn’t want you to do.”  He wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “You can’t…rape the willing.”

Young felt like there was a stone on his chest.  His stomach was in knots.

“Bullshit.”  He muttered.  “Bull.  Shit.”  His voice grew stronger.  “There’s no way you can convince me that you wanted—“

“Why are you fighting me on this?” Rush pleaded. 

“Because you’re wrong, because this, this is wrong, it’s so fucking wrong, because I’m not gonna let you…bury this for the ‘good of the crew’ or whatever crap idea you’ve come up with—for God’s sake you told me to stop!“

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it!”  Young reeled back, quieted by the desperation in Rush’s voice.  “Not…not like that, not…not really.”  He said it imploringly, like he was begging him to understand. 

And that was the least that he owed him.  So. 

He’d listen.  He’d try to, anyway.

He crossed his arms, and waited.

When Rush spoke, his voice was soft but his face was twisted, like he was in pain. “I wanted it.  You understand?”  He looked up from the corner of his eyes.  “I thought…I’d thought that was obvious.  I mean,” he grimaced.  “I clearly…enjoyed myself.”  He ended, no louder than a whisper. 

Young spoke cautiously.  “Just because you had a…physical reaction doesn’t mean it wasn’t…doesn’t mean you…”

Rush started laughing.  It wasn’t a happy sound.  It sounded like helplessness.

“I swear to God, sometimes I think you’d say anything just to tell me I was wrong.”

Young didn’t have anything to say to that.  He usually felt the same way about Rush. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Rush went on.  “You didn’t even—“ He broke off.  “That is.  You didn’t exactly.  You know.  Take advantage.”

Young lowered his eyes. 

“I think it’s safe to say, Colonel, that one of us had a good time last night.  And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you.” 

When he raised his eyes again, Rush was looking at him.  He looked in his eyes.  Really looked. 

Jesus. 

He let out a breath.  Rush seemed to take that as his cue to resume normal inhalation as well and, almost as one, the both found their way back to looking out at the universe racing by. 

The universe didn’t hold his interest very long this time, though.  He found himself looking sideways at the man next to him.  For Rush’s part, he seemed more fascinated with his own cuticles.

“So,” Young said after a moment.  “What do we do now?”  There was no response.  “Pretend it never happened?” 

“That does seem to be our modus operandi,” said Rush blandly.     

“Well.  Before we do that,” Young started.  “Thank you.”  Rush lifted his head.  “For…I mean, you didn’t have to…tell me anything.  You could have…you could have let me…“

“Oh, don’t think the idea didn’t cross my mind,” said Rush wryly.

Young was silent a moment.  “Why didn’t you?”  Young asked.

Rush shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Soon as I thought of it, I…I knew I couldn’t.  Do that.  Even if I didn’t tell anyone else, even if I was just…blackmailing you or something, to play the victim like that?  When I knew I—“ He paused.  “I just couldn’t see myself managing it.  Not for very long, anyway.” 

Young nodded his understanding, though he wasn’t sure he really understood anything. 

“Well.  Thank you anyway.  I...”  He paused, not really sure what to say.  “Appreciate it,” he ended, lamely.   

Rush smiled mockingly.  “Should I say, ‘you’re welcome?’”  He snorted.  “This has certainly turned out to be a remarkably candid conversation.”

Young laughed.  “Not really our usual style, huh?”

“No,” Rush said, chuckling.

“Well.  Here’s to honesty, then.”

Rush was quiet a moment.  Then, he inhaled sharply.  “So.  That’s it then.  Cards on the table.  Now we can forget about it.” 

Young tapped distractedly on the back of his arm.  “Yeah.  Though…”  Rush looked at him, somewhere between wary and questioning.  Young sighed.  “In the interest of honesty, I should…”  He paused, fidgeting.  He sighed again, louder this time, and turned away from the railing.  Turning quickly again, he sat down with a frustrated motion on a bench behind him.  “Look.”  Rush was looking at him, in fact, back to the window, elbows hung over the railing.  “What you said before wasn’t exactly accurate.” 

Rush’s brow furrowed.  “Could you be a little more specific.”

“Yes,” said Young, shortly.  “When you said that you were the only one who…who…” Crap.  “I wasn’t,” he pressed on valiantly.  “Unaffected.  By what happened.”

Rush was currently looking at him like he was some kind of puzzle. 

That couldn’t be good. 

“You didn’t,” Rush began carefully.  “That is…I mean, I was…I was clearly—“

“I took care of myself,” said Young quickly.  “In my quarters.  After.” 

Rush didn’t seem to know what to say to that. 

“Ah.”

Yup.  No idea what to say. 

“I just I thought I should,” Young expounded awkwardly.  “You know.”  There was a longer than comfortable pause.  “If we’re being honest.”

“Right, no, of course,” Rush agreed hurriedly.  “I…thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.”

They both glanced down. 

“So.”  Young clapped his hands together.  “Now we can, you know—“

“Forget it ever happened,” they both said together, Rush finishing with, “Yeah.”

“Or…” Rush continued, his tone contemplative.  “As an alternative to that.”

Young blinked.  “What?”

Rush took a breath.  “We could…not forget it happened.”

Huh?

“O…kay,” said Young, cautiously.

“We could, rather, instead, see this as an…opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”

“It seems to me,” Rush went on, reeking of false casualness and academia.  “That we both came here with certain misconceptions.  Now, however, those misconceptions have been cleared up, and we are presented with quite a different picture than either of us originally thought.” 

Young stared, trying not to feel like the slow kid in the back of the class. 

“So…you’re saying…” Young said, leadingly. 

“I’m saying that, rather than viewing last night’s…occurrences as a mistake or a dilemma that needs solving, we view it instead as an…unexpected happenstance,” Young raised an eyebrow at that, “that has given us previously unknown information.  New information can lead to different conclusions.” 

“I’m sorry,” Young broke in.  “What information are we talking about?”

“Just that, ah, it seems Colonel, that, we are, in actual fact, unexpectedly…complementary.  And, it might not be a bad idea to investigate the possibility of a…mutually…beneficial…arrangement.”

Young’s gaze swept down to Rush’s feet and back up again in the space of a heartbeat. 

Was he really saying…?  Because…because he sounded like he was saying—

“What exactly,” said Young carefully.  “Are we talking about here?”

Rush huffed exasperatedly.  “Are you actually this dense or are doing this on purpose?” 

“I just want to be clear,” said Young defensively, waving placating hands.  “No more ‘misconceptions’.”

Rush stood across from him, somehow both languid and restless, colors of unreadable emotions playing over his face.  Then, a single finger tapped twice on the railing under his hand, and he pushed himself off of it.

“Right.” 

He paused briefly, but then he was crossing the space between them in short, even steps.  He stopped just in front of where Young was sitting, looking past him with alert, tracking eyes. 

Checking the hallway, Young realized. 

Then, he looked down and reached out.  Young felt like an animal, trapped by startled exposure to something his natural habitat had never prepared him for, but the hands that touched his shoulders were light, impossibly light and hesitant and Young was suddenly aware that he wasn’t sure Rush and ever deliberately touched him before.

Did hitting him with a rock count? 

And with only that precarious support, Rush lifted first one knee and then the other onto the bench, straddling him.  He didn’t sit, he wasn’t in his lap.  He just sat up with his knees on either side of where Young was sitting.  With this formation Young’s eye line was actually right about at Rush’s collarbone and he had to tilt his head up to see his face. 

He was so close.  Young could see the hairs of his beard, the eyelashes of his hooded eyes under the hair fallen over his face.  He could feel his breath.  Smell salt and musk on his skin.  Yet, still, he seemed so far away, like in reality he was across a great chasm and Young was looking at him through a telescope. 

He could feel the ghost touches of fingertips over his uniform disappear once Rush seemed sure he had his balance, and once again there was no contact between them.  He kept glancing up over Young’s head toward the entrance.  Then, with a little ‘there’ gesture to the space between them, Rush said a single, unsettled, word, full of both self-evidence and uncertainty.  

“Clarity.”

And it was clear: this was the only answer he would get. 

Almost before he’d made the decision to, his hands lifted and rested on the man’s hips. 

When nothing happened, he slowly, slowly, ran his hands over and then behind to the lower back, then down, down, lower and lower over the mounds of his ass, took a buttock in each hand and squeezed. 

The response was immediate.  Rush sucked air in through his teeth, and hunched his shoulders, and gripped at the fabric of Young’s uniform in both fists, his face contorted and strained, every muscle tensed in pain. 

And then, he groaned.  It was deep, guttural, and low.  His mouth hung open and his whole body seemed to unclench as he panted out, hanging his head, loosening his fingers and arching into Young’s hands. 

His face was flushed. 

So was Young’s. 

Young’s eyes flickered over the man before him, watching him breathe. 

“Is this what you did with Greer?”

Rush barked out a laugh.  “You sure how to keep the mood going.”

“I want to know,” Young said, direct and even.  “Was it this?  With him?”

Rush was quiet.  They didn’t need to say what ‘this’ meant…This.  All of ‘This’.  Whatever ‘This’ was.  Rush blinked steadily and licked his lips, picked thoughtlessly at the fabric on Young’s shoulders. 

When he spoke, he was hesitant and deliberate. 

“Not…exactly.  I, as is evident…I like things a bit rough.  Greer was good for that.  He wasn’t, however, very long on imagination,” he ended, wryly. 

Young blinked.  “You dumped him,” he said, wondrously.  He’d heard that it had ended, the same way he’d heard it had started, but he’d never known any details.   “You got bored and you dumped him.”

“That’s…not quite accurate,” Rush denied. 

“No, no,” Young insisted.  “That’s what happened.  He couldn’t, what?”  He searched for words.  “Keep your interest?  Keep ‘things interesting’?  So you broke it off.”

“We weren’t,” Rush protested weakly.  “In a relationship.  There wasn’t really anything to break off.”

“Hmm.” 

Rush was peering down at him, eyes full of uncertainty and wariness.  A bit of his hair was hanging at an off angle, sticking in a patch of his beard just under his right cheek.  He looked drab, mousy even.  Yes.  Very mouse-like. 

“Ok,” Young said, at last.

Rush started slightly.  “Ok?” 

“Ok,” Young repeated with a nod.  Rush just kept looking at him distrustfully.  Young shifted his hands back to Rush’s hips and coaxingly pushed him back into standing, rising himself as he did so, to look Rush straight in the eye.  After a moment, Rush nodded. 

“So,” Rush glanced over Young’s shoulder.  “Do you…” He trailed off.  “My room’s not far.”

“Alright,” said Young quietly.  Rush started to move, then stopped suddenly, looking back to Young doubtfully.  “I’ll meet you there,” he said in clear tones.  Rush nodded sharply.  Then he was gone. 

Young stood alone under the blue light, listening to the hammering in his chest.

Chapter Text

Rush slammed the door control and glanced wildly over his quarters. 

What the hell had just happened?

What had he done?

Had he lost his mind?

The things he’d said, the things he’d done and now…now Young was coming here.  He was coming here to…

Fuck you?

Rush closed his eyes and breathed sharp through his nose, leaning his head back against the door, hands in fists.

He was already aroused.  The starts of sparks grew low and hot, anticipation flickering in his racing pulse. 

Such a good slag for him, aren’t you, already begging for it.

He tugged as his collar.  He needed to get a hold of himself.  Calm down.  Whatever else happened, he’d be damned if Young walked in and found him a quivering wreck on the floor. 

His buttocks clenched, sending a fresh reminder of the soreness there.  

No.  Young would have to do a bit more than walk in. 

He swallowed hard and opened his eyes.  He put a thumb over the pulse of his wrist and counted, breathing deep.  After a little while, he managed to slow it a bit.  He stepped away from the door, standing on his own feet.   

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and glanced toward the bed.  Should he…?  No.  He’d wait.  No need to get ahead of himself.  One step at a time. 

There was really no need to be so frantic, so panicked.  He was just…getting what he wanted. 

He was getting what he wanted. 

He smiled. 

There was a knock. 

He spun around, sharp and urgent, then took a breath.  When he’d finished the exhale, he hit the control with his fist.

The doors sprung open, and there he was. 

They stood awkwardly, but only for a moment.  Rush waved him in quickly (it wouldn’t do for anyone to see him in the hall) and shut the door.  He turned to find Young standing awkwardly in the middle of the room instead.  Much better. 

Young peered at him from under his brows.  “We need to talk.”

God damn it. 

“Already?  We haven’t even done anything yet,” said Rush exasperatedly. 

“Actually, we have done something.  And that’s…that’s what we need to talk about. 

“We already did that,” said Rush impatiently. 

Young sighed.  “Look.  It’s not…I just need to get a few things straight.”

“Fine,” he said curtly, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Go.”

Young rolled his eyes.  “Ok.  I just think…well, I think we should set a few ground rules.”

“Rules?”  He leered, dripping contempt.  “I’d rather not.”

“Rush!”

“What?”

Young clenched his fist, visibly pulling himself together.  “Maybe it was poor choice of words but…first of all,” he launched ahead.  “I need to know how far is too far.”

He snored.  “Bit ambitious for a first night, aren’t we?”  He said, mockingly.   

“Still,” said Young through clenched teeth.  “There needs to be a way for me to know if…if you’re not ok.  A…a signal or—“

Rush snorted again, the derision in no small part directed as much inward as out.  “I really wouldn’t worry about it, Colonel.  I doubt it’ll be an issue.  Now if we’re done with this lovely chat—“

“You said stop!”

Rush jerked back.  Young was panting softly, eyes somewhat wild.  “You told me to stop and you didn’t mean it.  That’s what you said,” he pointed a finger, more pointed than accusatory.  “You didn’t mean it.  I need it know,” Young pressed.  “When you mean it.  You can’t put all that on me, you have to—“

“Alright,” Rush cut in hastily, placating.  “Fine.  A…we’ll have a signal.”

Young calmed immediately.  “Ok.  Ok, good.”

“So, like…” Rush probed, at a loss.  “Like what?”

“I’m—not sure, exactly.  Like, a word?  A…a safe word.  Isn’t that a thing?”

“A safe word,” Rush repeated.  “Like a code?”

“Yes!  Yes, exactly,” Young smiled, sounding relieved. 

“Ok.”  Rush floundered a moment.  “Icarus.”  

“Icarus.”  Young repeated flatly. 

“For a word,” said Rush.  “What, you don’t like it?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Young assured hastily. 

“Right,” said Rush unsurely.  “So.  Was that it?”

“Well,” Young said haltingly, grasping his hands behind his back.  “I’m not really sure how this is supposed to go.  I mean…is it going to be like the other night?”

Rush shrugged helplessly.  “I don’t know.”

“It’s just that last night you were…” He trailed off. 

“What?” Rush prompted after a bit, though he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

Young was worrying at a lip with his teeth.  Suddenly, he seemed to gather his resolve. 

“If I tell you to do something, will you do it?”  He asked plainly.

Rush blinked, thrown. 

“I don’t know.”

Young nodded, seemingly satisfied with this, though Rush couldn’t imagine why.

“And what do I do if you don’t?”

“I suppose,” Rush said cautiously.  “That’s up to you.”

Young made a small grunt of affirmation, staring into space.  Then, he refocused on Rush, eyes glittering.

“Turn and face the wall.”

Rush felt his mouth go dry, swallowed and licked his lips.  Young just stood there, impassive.  Waiting.

Ok.

Ok. 

He did as he was told, throat tight as he stared into the blank, grey space on the wall.  He felt constricted, like his tendons were too short for him.  Was it nerves or excitement that was making his heart race?

“Now drop your pants.”

A laugh burst from him, shrill and half hysterical.  “Getting right to it, are we,” he said, hoping the banter would cover his unease as he nonetheless moved to undo his belt. 

There was the sound of scuffling shoes as Young seemed to be maneuvering behind him.  “I just want to see,” he said, sounding distracted. 

Rush paused.  “See?”  He wondered softly aloud.  Then he realized.  He let out something between an ‘ah’ and an ‘oh.’  “Your ‘handiwork’,” he enunciated pointedly, half turning over one shoulder.

There was no response, just the faint shuffling of shoes and heavy uniform material.  Rush turned back to his belt, unlocking the buckle in sure, even movements. A faint smile played at his lips as he, almost in a daze, went to unbutton his trousers.  He felt a strange calm now, for some reason.  Well, not calm exactly, his heart still raced and his skin prickled, but…comfortable.  He wasn’t afraid. 

Now he knew what Young wanted.

He pulled down on his waistband, underwear and all, down past his hips, then pressed both palms into the wall. 

He heard a sharp hissing, and then Young was behind him, very close now, not touching, but he could sense him, the shift in air, the body heat.  He could hear soft breathing and then there were fingertips on his skin.  The tender flesh twitched underneath, eager and reactive. 

“Have you looked at this?”  Young demanded distractedly. 

Rush was bewildered at the question.  “Can’t say that I have.”  He tilted his head.  “Why?  How’s it look?”

“Like it hurts,” Young answered promptly.

Rush chuckled broadly at that.  “Well.  You know.”  

Young’s hand gradually became a more solid presence.  Brushes became touches, and then rubs, and then prods, each one magnified on his exposed, hyper-sensitized skin.  He was being explored.  Well.  At least his arse was.  Although, as a hand tugged at his pants and trousers, pulling them farther down his thighs to get a better look, Rush was becoming increasingly conscious of the flesh hanging from the front of his body.

“I meant,” Rush said, trying to keep his voice steady as a thumb settled in the crease just under his right buttock.  “How’s it look to you?”

“Red.”  Young said in a low rumble, his voice as dark and damp as cave.  Rush shivered.  “Raw.  Hot.”  His hand came towards the middle, fingers pointed down as the palm rested smoothly over the curve of his arse. 

Then, it was gone and Rush barely had the time to appreciated the whistle of wind as it returned with a loud SMACK. 

“Jesus FUCK,” Rush shouted, slamming one hand against the wall and trying to hold on as his knees started to buckle.  “What the hell?”  He challenged incredulously. 

His only answer was a low chuckle.  “Alright,” said Young as Rush shook his head trying to gather himself.  Bloody hell, it just kept going, like someone had ripped the skin right off.  “Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” and with a final touch to his hip Young moved away. 

Rush finally risked a real look over his shoulder.  Young didn’t seem to notice, busy taking off his jacket. 

Fine, then.  He was already naked in the most significant of ways, with his half hard cock waving in the air, and his arse was on fire, but fine.  He quickly bent down to yank off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and then dragged his trousers and pants over his legs.  Kicking off the bit the fabric that clung to one foot, he clomped over to the bed and crawled on.  He stopped like that a moment, knees tucked under him, weight half on his hands in front of him, indecisive.  Young hadn’t specified any position.  Should he…

“What are you doing?”

Rush looked back at Young who was standing with his socks in one hand.  He sounded disgruntled.  “What you told me to,” Rush replied, somewhere between confused and cross. 

Young gave him a look.  “I told you to take your clothes off.”

Rush blinked, baffled.  Young just raised an eyebrow, then dropped his eye line to Rush’s chest.  Rush looked down. 

Oh.  Right. 

He’d never bothered with Greer, but apparently half-naked wasn’t good enough for the dear Colonel. 

He looked back up.  He couldn’t help but notice Young was still quite dressed, in his trousers and undershirt, yet he demanded Rush be completely stripped. 

His face flushed, tongue darting to wet his lips nervously.  He glanced down at Young’s crotch.  It was hard to tell anything from here with his black slacks, and the lighting on Destiny was always so dim…was Young getting as hard as he was?  Was he bulging, filling up, at the thought of Rush being totally naked and exposed while he…

He reached up and pulled his shirts over his head, throwing them carelessly somewhere on the floor.  His chest felt tight and he concentrated on breathing evenly through his nose.  He felt hot—not just flushed, but feverish. 

He couldn’t look at Young anymore. 

“Lie down on your stomach.” 

Rush nodded faintly and moved to obey, neither swift nor sluggish, but rather as though he were moving in a dream.  He settled carefully, gripping his pillow to him, aware of the pulsing flesh trapped underneath. 

“Lube?” Young questioned mildly.  Rush gestured vaguely toward the nightstand, not particularly interested in trying to find his voice right then.

Then the mattress was dipping and Rush felt warm cloth against the outside of his legs.  He closed his eyes.  He could see it, if he closed his eyes: Young kneeling bestride his prone, bared form—the dark clad beast and his poor, pallid prey. 

He moaned, deep and hushed, trying to be still as his body sought to squirm against the bedding. 

Prey.  Sure.  Like a bitch that wags its arse hoping to get chased.

A palm was placed at the small of his back, solid and profound, and he stilled.  Everything stilled. 

When two slick fingers reached between the globes of his arse he arched, ever so slightly, into them.  Young rubbed along his crack in smooth, sure motions, covering everything from just above his bollocks to his tailbone.  He kept adding more lube, pressing along the insides of his cheeks, almost massaging into the skin.  The pads of his fingers ran over his anus and his thumb would sometimes dive in to stroke lazy circles around the puckered flesh.  Rush wondered if he did that because he noticed how he twitched when touched there. 

He was being driven to distraction.  He kept shifting his hips, hoping Young would get the idea and start working in to him.  He squeezed his fists.  Did he want him to ask for it?  Beg?  Was that it?  What was he doing?  Surely he was getting impatient himself, and he hadn’t even started stretching him.  Although…maybe he didn’t intend to.  Maybe he’d take him dry—his gut and cock both clenched at the thought—but then, why bother with the lube at all? 

“Are you planning to fuck me some time tonight?” 

Young chuckled. 

Damn.  He’d meant that to sound more casual. 

“No, actually.”

…Wait, what?

“What?”

“No.  Not tonight.” Young said smoothly.

Rush started sputtering, but then it hit him. 

Not tonight. 

Then the fingers were gone and Rush heard the faint sound of a zipper.  Quieter sounds followed, and then a series of slow, steady, squish-type noises.  Coating himself, Rush realized.  Spreading lube over his erection. 

Rush didn’t look, burrowing his mouth and nose back into his pillow.. 

“How hard are you?” 

Rush started at the gruff question, He wasn’t quite sure how to answer.  Very?

“I mean,” Young went on.  “Are you all the way up, or what.” 

“Yeah,” Rush answered, hesitantly. 

“I just don’t want you touching yourself.”

Rush shoulders twitched incredulously.  “You’re serious?”

“Oh yeah.  In fact,” Young went on, contemplating.  “I don’t think I ever want you touching yourself.  Not unless I say you can.”  Rush sputtered, disbelieving.  “Yeah.  Yes, actually, I think I’d like to make that a rule.”

“A rule?”  

“Mmm hmm.” 

“And if I don’t,” he snapped.  “Follow this rule, what happens then?” 

“What do you think.” 

Rush’s chest was tight and oppressive across his ribs.  “What if you don’t catch me?”  He challenged, and the words felt daring.  “Or are you going to set up a kino feed to follow me around?”

“You’re going to lie to me?”  Young said, words rumbling lowly. 

Rush blinked at that, and worried his tongue between his teeth.  Then, creaking like he was made of tin, and he gripped the bed linens tight with both fists.  “No.  No, I won’t lie to you,” he said, voice subdued.  He inhaled sharply.  “I suppose I can’t come without your say so either.”

There was a contemplative pause.  “No…no I think that’s alright.  In fact,” he said, with growing confidence.  “I say you shouldn’t ever stop yourself from coming.  Unless I say otherwise, of course.  Now,” and his voice grew dark.  “I’m getting sick of talking, aren’t you?”

“God, yes,” Rush agreed, relieved. 

Young’s hands came down and gripped his arse tight, before pulling the two halves apart, exposing the center.  Rush gasped, his pelvis rising off the bed, legs trying to scramble underneath him.  Young’s own legs didn’t leave much room though and, as much as he may have the urge, Rush found he couldn’t spread his legs very wide at all. 

“Settle, settle,” Young murmured quietly.  “Hang on.”  Steadily, he brought Rush to a kind of stillness, while still holding him open.  He pushed Rush slowly back down into the bed. 

Then, there was something hot and thick laid into the valley of his arse, and Young squeezed the cheeks back together, enveloping it. 

That was where Rush’s eyes clouded over, if only for a second, because that was Young’s cock. 

And it was huge. 

Rush may only have ever had sex with one other man but he’d hardly gone through life without seeing a few dicks, so he had a fair idea of what was typical and what was…

Jesus. 

It ran all the way up the crack of his arse, from bottom to very top, which had to be…how many inches?  And it wasn’t just that.  It was thick.  It felt thick anyway.  Heavy and pulsing and…

And now it was moving, sliding, between his arse cheeks, as they were held in place by Young’s strong hands. 

And Young was groaning.  Deep, guttural sounds, full of need and relief.  If the hands groping his abused arse, or the cock going up and down between it and occasionally rubbing his puckered arsehole, or the thought how fucking humungous that cock felt hadn’t been enough, that groaning would have undone him. 

He had never had a greater need to touch his own dick.  It was killing him, scorching  and bloated.  But he didn’t.  He held onto the bedding like his life depended on it and wished to God Young had tied his hands, but he didn’t reach for himself, not once.  He buried himself in the bed, overcome with sensation, and gave himself over to Young as he used his body for himself. 

See.  This is what you’re for.

Tears prickled behind his eyes.  His heart felt fuller and heavier than it had in a long time, like it might give into gravity, rip open his chest and fall out of him.  It felt so good.  He could do this.  This he could do. 

It might kill him, but he could do it. 

This was what he was for.

Young bit his lip as a drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.  He felt sticky and hot, his muscles exhausted as they were pushed to a more and more frantic pace, pushed by the urgency of sensation.  His hips slid back and forth, unconcerned with the strain on his thighs or his knees, because right now all he cared for was this pleasure, here, now. 

It wasn’t just the physical feeling of it either, but everything together, all his senses, sight and sound and scent perceiving this experience, and he was glad for it, glad for every ounce of awareness he gleaned, because right now his cock was slipping slickly between the brightly reddened cheeks of Rush’s ass, the dark, flushed tip peeking out the top of the crack every time he pressed forward, as he held them together in a grip that would probably bruise the already battered flesh, and Rush was letting him.  In fact, his hips were angled to give him better access, making it easier to rub as much of his cock as possible along the sweet, soft inner skin of his backside.  He even seemed to be enjoying himself and Young reveled in every tremor that cascaded through his frame, every soft, desperate gasp and whine and moan, every bead of glistening sweat along Rush’s hips and spine and shoulder blades.

With an impulsive surge of adrenaline he surged forward and licked a stripe up the center of Rush’s taut back.  Rush’s response was immediate and intense, crying out as he went into constrained convulsions, butt cheeks clenching tightly around Young’s straining cock.  Young rode him out like an earthquake, savoring the taste of salt on his lips.  He was getting close now, so close, the slap of flesh on flesh seeming to grow louder as he reached his peak, and then he spurted hot cum onto Rush’s back.

He didn’t move for many minutes, head hanging, seeing nothing.  Eventually, he pulled back to himself.  He started bringing up his pants from around his thighs, hesitating only a moment before wiping the last bits of cum hanging off his cock onto Rush’s bare skin.  Then, he swung off of Rush to sit, bouncing, off the side of the bed, and finished doing up his fly.  Two swift brushes to smooth his pant legs, and he stood. 

Only then did he turn to look back at the man still lying on the bed.  Rush was staring at him from under strands of disheveled hair, in the exact position he’d left him.  Young tried not to let his eyes wander, but it was hard.  Rush was skinny, sure, but there was something strangely alluring in his trim, economical frame, the stretches of skin that seemed to gleam both pale and golden.  But this would be tricky, and he needed to keep his wits where they belonged. 

He had to admit there was an odd part of him that was looking forward to this—

probably the same part of him that was still the mischievous child who’d always gotten himself into trouble—but he was also pretty nervous about it. 

Honestly, he had no idea what he was doing.  And so, he was going to keep his eyes on Rush’s face, and not the cum that was dripping down his lower back. 

He crossed his arms.  “I’m going to go now.”

Rush’s whole body changed in an instant, springing up on his elbows, alert and alarmed. 

“What?”

“I said, I’m leaving now.”

“You’re joking,” Rush spat.

“No,” Young replied calmly.

Rush eyes darted about incredulously as he sputtered.  “But I haven’t even…”

“I know,” Young acknowledged matter of factly.  Rush just gawked at him, disbelieving.  “Since I got you off last night,” he went on, fighting to keep the smirk off his face.  “Without you returning the favor, I figured this was only fair.” 

Rush’s eyes went wide and he sat up on his hands and knees, panicked.  “It is not fair.  It’s not remotely fair,” he retorted sharply.  “You went back to your room, I—“  He broke off, seemed to struggle for a moment.  He continued more subdued, almost imploringly.  “I’m not allowed.” 

Young shrugged.  “Not really my problem.”  With that, he picked up his shoes and socks. 

“You’re really just going to leave me?”  He sounded stunned. 

Young chuckled, leaning against the wall as he put on his shoes.  “Don’t look so anxious.  I’ll be back tomorrow, universe willing.”  He straightened up.  “It’s just one night.  I’m sure you’ll survive.”  He grabbed his jacket. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rush pleaded, agitated.  Young continued to shrug his jacket over his shoulders, but did look over to Rush on the bed.  He looked intent, reflecting.  Thoughtful.

That couldn’t be good. 

“You said,” Rush started, slowly.  “I wasn’t allowed to…to touch myself, isn’t that right?”

Young narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t get tricky here.  You know what I meant.  I don’t want to have to think of every possible loophole to everything I say.  So no, ‘Oh it’s not technically touching if I whatever,’ understand?”

“Oh, no, no, of course not,” he placated.  “But…but you did say I was allowed to, to get off, as long as I didn’t…unless you’re rescinding that?” he asked cautiously.

Young stood quietly.  He should, he thought to himself.  Clearly, the man was up to something.  He shouldn’t let him get away with it.  But, he couldn’t help but be little curious. 

He really wasn’t sure what Rush could be thinking. 

“No,” he said simply.  “No, that still stands.”

Rush smiled quietly.  “Well.  I bet I can do it.” 

Young blinked.  “Do it.”

“Yeah,” Rush assured eagerly.  “I bet I can get off without…without doing anything.”

“Really,” said Young blandly. 

“Mm-hm,”

Young breathed in. “How?”

“Uh-uh,” said Rush quickly.  “First, you agree.”

“Agree?” Young shifted.  “Agree to what?”

Rush licked his lips.  “If I manage it, if I succeed…I get something.”

Young lifted his chin.  So that was it.  “Get something.”  Rush nodded.  “Ok.  Let’s say I do agree.  What if you don’t.”

Rush’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?”

“If you lose this bet…do I get something?” Young asked suggestively.

Rush was quiet.  “I…I suppose.  If you want.  I’m not sure…” he looked at Young helplessly.  “I mean, you could make me do anything you wanted anyway.” 

Young’s whole body went still.  He’d swear even his heart stopped beating for a second.  No, it wasn’t his body that froze.  It was everything.  Time stopped.     

“Alright,” he said. 

“…Alright?” Rush questioned hesitantly.  

“Alright.  I agree,” Young said solemnly. 

“Ok,” said Rush, nodding.  He gestured with his hands.  “Don’t leave.” he said firmly, then scrambled to shift his position. 

“I won’t be touching you either,” Young said after moment.  “Just to be clear.”

“Oh, I know,” Rush dismissed hurriedly.

When he settled, he was facing Young straight on and sitting up on his knees.  Young watched inquisitively as Rush rubbed his hands distractedly over his thighs, then abruptly halted, and put them behind his back.  He seemed to encounter some difficulty back there, squirming fastidiously with his arms. 

“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously, eying the erection twitching faintly between Rush’s spread knees. 

Rush glanced up briefly.  “I’m trying...” he sighed irritably, “t…to keep my hands out of the way.  So I don’t…”  He looked to Young beseechingly.  “So I don’t accidently…”

Young nodded, understanding.  Then, he looked around the room.  He hesitated a moment, undecided, then went and picked up Rush’s belt from where it was lying on the floor. 

“What—?” Rush asked when he went to grab his wrist. 

Young lifted the belt.  “Tying your hands.”

Rush stilled.  “Oh.”  Young wrapped the belt around both wrists and tightened the buckle.  Rush’s hands flexed once and then relaxed.  When Young moved away, Rush peered up at him guardedly from under his lashes.  “…thank you,” he murmured.  Young just nodded, went to stand where he’d been before, and waited, arms crossed.

Rush was gazing downward, unfocused.  He shifted his shoulders and licked his lips briefly, breathing in deeply.  He swallowed, apprehension suddenly becoming his most notable color. 

Young was just about to say something, call the whole thing off, ask if he was alright at least, when Rush looked up. 

Young didn’t think he would ever forget those eyes, dark and black, full of fear and ferocity and something that looked an awful lot like the thrill of victory. 

“I’m glad you stayed.”  Rush’s voice was low and even and very, very deep.  “This wouldn’t be nearly as easy if you weren’t here.”  His lips twisted into a wry smile, tinged with mischief.  “You see…I like that you’re watching me.  I like that you’re watching me now, like this,” he muttered, dropping almost to a hiss.  “I like,” he went on, challengingly, bitingly.  “That you’re standing there, in your uniform, all in black.  And I’m.”  He exhaled, swaying almost feverishly.  “Stripped.  Naked.” 

Young had never reflected much on the sound of Rush’s voice before.  It had never figured as the subject of many deep contemplations.  He had a feeling that might change, because Rush’s voice appeared to be the most glorious thing in the universe.

He was getting hard again. 

God damn him.

Rush’s biceps flexed, straining.  “I like that I’m bound.  I like that you bound me.  I can feel it pinching and I like that too.  Because,” he swallowed, harshly.  “I like it when it hurts.  God, “ he gasped, seeming to collapse in on himself.  “Do you have any idea how much my arse hurts?  It’s been burning all day, reminding me of…of last night.  All day, trying not to get hard from my clothes rubbing against where you beat me.”  He peered up.  “I like that you looked too,” he said, sneering.  “That you liked how it looked.  Don’t pretend you didn’t.  What did you say?  It was ‘red’?  ‘Raw’?”  He leaned forward.  “‘Hot’?  Hmm?”  He bit at his lower lip, eyes searching.  “And I like…I like…feeling…filthy.  Like when you…” he licked at his lips.  “When you made me…lick…” His eyes fell closed.  His speech seemed really laborious now, like each word took huge effort.  Young could feel a pull toward him.  He wanted to help somehow, do something, make it easier.

And make him lose the bet?  Somehow he didn’t think Rush would thank him for that.  Instead, he just dug his fingers into his arms.   

There was a deep cry, and Young could see Rush’s cock straining, hips spasming to find a purchase that would not be forthcoming.  “You made me lick my own cum off the floor, Jesus Christ, I felt disgusting and it was so good, or when you came on me just now, I can still feel it—”  He bit down, expending a whining, keening sound through closed lips.  “I even…even…” He gasped between words.  “I even like that you…that I didn’t come just now.  That you just...” His voice lilted plaintively toward the end and his lip trembled.  “Because…‘cause it means…”

He inhaled hard through his nose.  “I like that you used me.  That I could…that I was…fuck.”  He arched, shoulders twisting, jaw working sharp and tight.  “I can feel you.”  His voice was desperately quiet now, quick and quivering as the words rushed out.  “It doesn’t matter tha—I can still—you can—and I’m—I’m—aaahrchg!”

Rush came, bowing over himself, hair falling over his face and pale shoulders hunched, spilling onto the bed.  He swayed as though he might fall forward, but managed to find his balance back on his heels. 

Well.  The bastard did it.  Young should probably be more impressed.  Well, no.  He was impressed. 

He just wished he wasn’t so goddamned angry.  And horny. 

Lust and rage. 

Those had always been his problems. 

Slowly Rush started to look up, peering at him through strands of stringy hair, still breathing deep and heavy.

“So?”  He asked after a moment, speaking softly. 

Young stared back stonily.  “Congratulations.” 

Rush smiled.  There was blood on his teeth.  He must have bit into his lip.  “I win.”

“Sure,” Young said shortly.  “What do you want?”

Rush licked at his lips.  Then, he glanced down pointedly, looking up again to lock eyes with Young.  “I want to see it.”

Young laughed, with some surprise but no humor.  “Oh, we’ll get there.”

“Now.”  His eyes were serious, his tone adamant. 

Fine. 

A few long strides and Young was inches from the bed.  His left hand reached out, threaded through Rush’s hair along the scalp, and yanked, pulling down and twisting his face up.  Rush let out a small, sharp cry, his whole body arching as he was thrown off balance.  Young could see his bound hands flexing in a vain instinct to support himself and his eyes rolled up to look towards Young, wide and alarmed. 

Slowly, deliberately, Young took his right hand to his fly.  At the sound of the zipper Rush’s focus darted to Young’s groin, barely a handbreadth away.  His chest was heaving with deep, urgent breaths.   

As he took himself out, Young watched Rush’s face.  He saw the man’s features grow deathly still, his eye’s grow wide.  He saw him swallow.  Lick his lips. 

He started stroking himself to that sight; to Rush’s deep brown eyes blown black and his lips parted and panting, to the trembling tension reverberating through his body held at awkward angles.  He started slow but revved up quickly, already far to close to the edge, working furiously over his swollen flesh, and when the first spurts of pre-cum started he watched with relish as they fell along Rush’s cheekbone, making the man gasp and start.  He tugged at his hair harder, making sure he lay lower than his cock.  He came into the man’s face, squirting obscenely, purposefully, from brow to chin as Rush panted futilely, clenching his eye’s shut against the onslaught as he didn’t quite try to turn away. 

When he was finished, Young tilted his head back and groaned, fist still clenched in Rush’s hair.  He breathed deep and looked back at Rush, who blinked hesitantly against the sticky mess that coated his cheeks and lashes.  Loosening his grip slightly, Young glided his hand toward the back of Rush’s head before pushing him forcefully forward, into the goo of his own cum still on the bedding between his knees. 

There was a muffled grunting whine as Rush fought to turn his face to one side or the other.  Young took only a moment to appreciate the view, the bound hands and bowed back, the red ass bobbing over his heels, before reaching to undo the belt.  He did so quickly, then detached from Rush completely watched him collapse, gasping, arms dropping forward to push himself up.  He’d done up his pants and turned away before Rush even had a chance to look up.

He reached the door and held out a hand, hesitating over the control. 

He looked over his shoulder.

The other night, he hadn’t looked back, too afraid, too busy fleeing to see what he’d left behind.  He’d never know now, he supposed, what he would have seen.  But here, he had, and therefore, he saw Rush as he slipped a single cum covered finger into his mouth.  It was just a moment, a moment Rush might not have realized he was being watched, eyes turned down and inward, a moment before he realized and glanced up, freezing. 

Young hit the control and exited quickly, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Rush sat sprawled on the bed.  He felt sticky, covered in sweat and…other things.  He looked down wearily.  It had gotten on his hands somehow, as well as his face obvious—

He swallowed. 

Obviously. 

He let out a sigh.  It was strange, really.  It had been…good.  He’d thought.  Better than good.  Hot, sexy, exciting, all that.  It had seemed like a good idea, like it’d…work out, he supposed.  But now…

Not enough for you?  Greedy slag, got what you wanted and still left wanting. 

He closed his eyes.  No, that wasn’t it, not really.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t sated, or what have you.  It was just that there was this…cold now.  Like a block of ice inside, just under the ribs.  He needed to clean up, get to sleep, but instead he couldn’t bring himself to move, he was just sitting here trying—

Trying not to cry.

He scoffed, lifting a hand to run over his face before remembering the mess and dropping it again, forlornly.

Don’t be getting squeamish now, pretending you didn’t like it.

I’m not—

“Oh, poor me, I’m all sticky!”  Like you weren’t begging for it a minute ago, like you don’t get off on this filth.

Shut up!

He inhaled sharply.  It had been fine, really, even right through the end.  Everything had seemed fine.  But now, Young was gone, and it all seemed so—

Swish

Rush looked up sharply, a moment of panic running through him.  Had Young not locked the door?  How long had he been sitting here?

It took a moment to calm back down, to register there was nothing to be panicked over.  Confused, maybe, but…

Young had come back, was closing the door behind him.  He approached the bed, carrying something, a…tub of some sort.  He held it carefully, and came to sit carefully on the edge of the bed, setting the tub down, carefully, beside him.  Rush shifted lightly, feeling oddly skittish.  Vulnerable.  Which, after recent events, just seemed utterly…

There was a linen cloth hanging over the edge of the tub, which seemed to have…water.  It had water in it.  With fluid motions Young took the cloth, dipped it in and wrung it out.  It was only when he started to approach him with it that Rush made a move.

“Wha—“ he started, lifting an arm to block him.

“Shh.”  That was all he said, and began to wipe his face.

Rush dropped his arm at the touch of cloth on his brow.  The water was even warm.  The rationing had been loosened since they’d figured out the water recycling system, but even so you generally couldn’t just go grab a tub of warm water. 

Well, unless you were the Colonel apparently.  Rush watched Young’s face, who for his part seemed intent on his task, eye’s following the motion of his hand.  As he moved down, Rush dropped his gaze to avoid eye contact, fixing instead on the Colonel’s chin and collar.  Smoothly, Young worked over nose and cheekbones, extra soft over the eyes, and down the jaw. 

That was where Rush saw Young’s lips quirk. 

“What?”  Rush looked over him, questioning.

Young looked him in the eye briefly, then away again.

“You know, you might want to think about shaving,” he said lightly, rinsing the linen and wringing it out again. Rush’s brow furrowed.  “The beard,” Young clarified, completely unnecessarily. 

“You…you don’t like it?”  Rush replied, wondering if he should feel offended, annoyed at the twinge of insecurity that bloomed under his chest.

Young chuckled.  “Well,” he started.   “It’s just a bit messy, is all.”

“Are you suggesting,” Rush retorted after a moment, with no small amount of facetiousness.  “That I be clean shaven so that it’s easier to wash cum off my face?”  Young just grinned.  Bastard.  “Should I cut my hair too?”

“I like your hair.”

Rush snorted softly, then was quiet a moment.  “I’ll think about it.”

Young face went quiet, movement stilling just for a moment.  Then—

“Here,” he said, running the damp cloth over Rush’s hands.  “Come on.”  He quickly moved the tub to the floor, pulling down the covers of bed.  After a moment, Rush turned to crawl in underneath.  “Hang on,” Young blurted out and Rush paused.  He bent to retrieve the linen.  “I forgot about your back.”  And then he was wiping over the smeared skin with Rush left with nothing to do but let him and dwell on how he had absolutely no idea how he felt about this.  “There.  Go on.”  Rush nodded absently, climbing under the covers and laying on one side.  Young pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, then brought the tub down toward the foot of the bed.  There, he pulled out the cloth again and started on the splotch on the bedding. 

“You don’t have to—“ Rush started, pushing himself up on one arm.

“I got it,” said Young easily.  “I’m not doing much anyway, just trying to get the worst of it.” 

Rush nodded again, biting inside his lip. 

“Leave that,” he said hurriedly when he saw Young moving to take the tub with him.  “I’ll get it.  And,” he went on reasonably.  “Wouldn’t do to have someone see you wandering the halls with a tub.”

“Well, no one saw me bring it,” said Young, smiling awkwardly.

“Why risk it twice,” said Rush smoothly.

Young nodded simply, and set the tub back on the floor.  “Well, I’ll just…” he gestured toward the door.

Rush nodded.  “Sure.” 

Another awkward smile, and then he was gone. 

Rush lay down, naked but warm under the covers.  His breathing evened and his eyelids fell comfortably.  That ice inside him seemed to have gone.  Melted, he quipped to himself.

He wondered when that’d happened.

The next day, he saw about finding himself a razor. 

They’d taken to keeping a sort of “donation box,” a place to put odds and ends that weren’t being used, for anyone to take if they needed it.  Depressingly, it was often non-personal effects of the deceased, but every once in a while someone just decided they didn’t need something anymore.

He was lucky, finding a couple electric razors in the bin.  Probably from dead soldiers.  He tried not to think about that and picked one, mostly at random. 

When he showed up with a smooth chin for the first time, he got a few surprised glances, a couple bewildered shrugs, but only one irritating comment (from Eli, of course—“New look?”)  It seemed everyone was either too intimidated or too uninterested to dwell on it. 

But Young smirked, and that night he reclined on the bed and watched as Rush cleaned up his own mess with nothing but two hands and his tongue.

Rush flexed against the belt that bound him, leather winding up his forearms to his elbows. 

“Alright?” Young asked over his shoulder. 

Rush nodded, feeling the bedding rub against his cheek.  Only then did he hear rustling as Young shuffled out of however many layers he’d decided to divulge tonight.  From the waist up—he could still feel Young’s trousers against his hips

After the first night there had been a second, and then a third.  This was the fourth, and Rush had begun to observe certain obvious patterns.  For example, Young liked him to be naked, immediately if possible.  Young himself rarely even began to undress until Rush was face down on the bed, and never disrobed completely.   

There were hands on his now, bound as they were at the small of his back, rubbing lubricant along his palms and fingers.   Then Young wrapped one hand around Rush’s, guiding it as he placed his cock into Rush’s curved palms.

That was the other thing; he still hadn’t fucked him.  Each night Young had gotten off using some other form of friction, completely staying away from penetration.  He hadn’t even touched him from the inside, not once. 

Rush squeezed lightly as Young began to glide along his fingers. 

Not that that it wasn’t…there was a certain titillation to it.  Just the feel of the warm, firm flesh against his skin, thrusting against him—he’d only seen it that once, and now he was left using only his sense of touch to try and get familiar, to dispel whatever…

He groaned, muffled, into the bed. 

Alright, he’d admit it.  He was intimidated.  This was the first time he’d been able to touch with his hands and, yes, he could wrap all the way around, but just barely.  Young’s cock was hot, pulsing, smooth as velvet and definitely on the ‘larger than average’ end of things.  He had no idea how he’d ever manage to take him.

But God, he wanted to try. 

He was getting more excited, hard and flushed and trying not the squirm against the sheets even as his toes curled and his legs trembled.

Young came over Rush’s back (though his bound arms caught most of it this time) as he had the night before, and the night before that, and it wasn’t as though that wasn’t hot as hell, it was, it was just—

“Not to ruin the moment, but are you ever planning to actually fuck me?”

There was a deep sigh, and he felt Young pull back to sit on his heels. 

“Why?  You getting impatient?”

“Impatient?”  Rush scoffed.  “I have shown remarkable patience.”  He quirked his head to one side over his shoulder, a playful glint in his eye.  “I’m beginning to feel toyed with.”

Young snorted, then patted lightly over the back of Rush’s thigh.

“I want to wait till you’ve healed.”

Rush blinked.  

“Till I’ve…what—?“ Then it dawned on him, and yes, alright, his backside was still a bit…tender, but— “What for?” he asked plaintively. 

“I don’t want you to be distracted.”  Young murmured. 

“Distracted.”  Rush repeated carefully.

“Uh-huh.  The first time anyway, I want you to be,” he paused.  “Focused.  I don’t want anything else,” he went on, pinching a chunk of Rush’s arse that was still quite red and causing Rush to cry out sharply at the unexpected abuse.  “Diverting your attention.” 

Point taken.  He supposed. 

“My, aren’t you turning out to be a jealous one,” said Rush, breathlessly.  “I didn’t realize your prick required such acute mindfulness.  Well, let me put you at ease,” he continued, with exaggerated glibness.  “I assure you, when you shove your cock up my arse, it shall have my undivided attention.”

Suddenly, there were two fingers bearing down, right on the spot just behind his balls and he shouted as sparks flew before his eyes.  They pushed in, nearly to the point of pain, and he felt pressure everywhere from his cock all the way up through his throat.  He almost started convulsing as his spine seemed to try to curl and flatten itself at the same time. 

He felt another touch, contrastingly light, on the back of his neck as Young leaned in close behind his ear. 

“Don’t get cute.”

Rush nodded quickly, panting, and the fingers released their hold.  Young sat back up, pushing himself up with a hand on Rush’s shoulder, the other rubbing casually over the crack of his arse. 

“Now,” Young continued, pulling at the belt’s buckle on Rush’s arms.  “Let’s see about you, hmm?”  Undone, he unwound and dropped it, still dripping bits of cum, off to the side on the bed “Maybe then you’ll be less irritable.”  

Rush snorted as he flexed his newly freed limbs.  Young sat back up and then maneuvered them into a new position; he scooted Rush forward and up onto his knees, though still face down in the bedding, and knelt behind him.  He spread Rush’s legs apart—giving him quite the view, no doubt—and then sat back on his heels, resting his hands gently over Rush’s hips.

“Go on.”  

Rush breathed deep, and reached between his legs.  Already hard, he gripped himself with both hands, putting his weight onto one shoulder.  He stroked the shaft with one hand, pulling back his foreskin and working the tip with the other.  He felt himself shudder and was acutely aware of Young, the steady presence of his hands and knowing he must be watching.  There was some of Young’s spunk still on his arms and hands and he rubbed it over his own cock, squeezing smooth motions over the swollen flesh. 

He felt his bollocks start to tighten and he reached back, cupping and massaging them gently.  His back arched, legs splaying even wider of their own accord, and he moaned.  Almost without realizing it, his fingers reached back, pressing softly at that sensitive spot again and making himself shudder.  He inched up and back, seeking, and if he could just get one finger in, God it seemed like ages—

“Ahch!”  He squawked as Young came down hard on his fingers, clenching them in a tight grip.

“My God,” Young commented mildly as Rush tried to wriggle the hand now trapped against his own arse, his arm held awkwardly between his legs.  “You really are an insatiable little…” He trailed off.

Rush’s blinked, mouth working unevenly.  Say it, he wanted to tell him.  Just say it.  Go on.  You can say it.  But his voice seemed caught, trapped behind his teeth. 

“Ok, let’s try this a little differently.”  With that, Young first released Rush’s hand, which Rush quickly withdrew, and then reached out, gripped Rush’s shoulder, and drew him up to his knees, making his head swim momentarily.

He wrapped an arm over Rush’s front and tilted him back against his own—Rush’s breath caught—bare chest.  Warm, damp skin and short, soft hairs met his back.  Young still had his trousers, buttoned and zipped as well by this point, but this is the most…naked he’d been through all this.  Rush’s eyelids fluttered shut, inner muscles clenching. 

He felt the tip of Young’s nose on the crest of his ear and soft breath as he whispered lowly.  “Alright.  Let’s try this again.  No straying this time.  Don’t worry.  I’ll help you.”

Rush nodded absently, and started obediently rubbing himself.  When Young lifted his other hand and pinched one flushed nipple, hard, Rush didn’t even cry out.  He just sort of…choked as his pelvis pitched forward.  The arm around his chest shifted and Rush felt a hand around his neck.  It didn’t squeeze, or push; it was just held there, almost soothingly against his throat. 

The other hand was not so gentle.  It gripped at the same nipple again, twisting painfully until Rush started keening.  There was only a brief reprieve before it took the tormented flesh again, pulling straight out in a way that sent Rush’s chest into spasms, his breath filling his lungs in shaky gasps against his ribs.  In a strange fit of fascination, Rush glanced down and saw his own pink flesh drawn out farther than he’d ever known it could go.  His throat clenched, falling even more into Young as his eyes rolled back into his head, clutching at his prick like it was some kind of anchor.

The hand at his throat circled around his neck and up into his hair, supporting the back of his head while the other worked at his chest.  He raked fingernails between his pecks, squeezing and pinching at any of the few scraps of loose flesh.  When he reached across to the other nipple, he flicked it once before digging his thumbnail straight in.  Rush’s pelvis surged forward, throwing his head back as he cried out, and he yanked fiercely at his cock.

Young made a soft shh sound and pressed forward gently with the hand at the back of Rush’s head, lacing a firm grip into his hair.  Steadying with his other hand, Young coaxed Rush’s upper body both up and forward.  Soon, rather than leaning back, he was tilted forward, angled over his hips as Young pressed a palm against his chest.  He gulped.  He couldn’t help but feel unsteady.  He wasn’t balanced, pulled up off his heels like this, and pitched forward.  Then, he felt the fist in hair harden, and the palm on his chest slid slowly over his shoulder to his back. 

He was suspended—yes, that was the word—held by the hair, right against the scalp, producing a low, unsteady ache.  More than any pain, there was the precariousness of his situation, and sure he didn’t have far to fall and it’d be onto his own bed and his hands were technically free but—

Pre-cum started leaking over his fingers and he rubbed furiously, throbbing everywhere as he took in the feeling of open air against most of his bare body, the tug at the back of his head, the strange sensation of being almost in the middle of falling…

Young, for his part, rubbed at the back of his neck, and then started working down Rush’s spine and Rush groaned achingly, awareness of rough fingers running over his skin and the drip of cool sweat pushing him even further.

But it was the gentlest touch that threw him over the edge; the lightest sensation of the softest contact with the very tips of fingers and fingernails at the lowest part of his back, just where the spine curved inwards.  It was barely a graze, but it was like an electric current straight through to his pelvis, into his cock, and then out as he spurted from between his hands.  He thrust into his fists, his hips shaking and pumping erratically, over and over and over until he thought he might shake apart and he just kept coming and coming and—

Finally, he slumped, limp and sagging.  Clouds floated over his eyes; he may have stopped breathing at some point.  But he had only a moment before Young released his hold and Rush had just the time to catch himself on his elbows.  He still fell into his cum, but at least he managed to keep his face out of it.  He pulled up with his arms a bit, to find a clean spot to rest his head, and collapsed.

“There,” said Young after a moment, comfortably cupping one of Rush’s buttocks with a casual entitlement that made Rush shudder.  “That worked out, didn’t it?” 

Rush nodded absently, letting his eyes fall closed to the sensation of Young’s hand under the globe of his arse—the span, the coarseness, the ends of fingers on the outside near his thigh, and the thumb that rested inside his crack over his anus with a strangely pointed kind of authority.

“Hey,” Young said when Rush didn’t respond further.  “Come on.  We gotta clean you up.” 

Rush shook his head slackly against the bed.  “ ’m fine.”

“You won’t be in the morning when you’re glued to your sheets,” Young retorted. 

Rush just moaned petulantly.  “I’m.  Fine.”  Young let out pointed sigh.  “Go ‘way.”  Young sighed again, louder this time. 

“Okay,” he said a second later, giving Rush’s arse a last pat.  “It’s your…bed.  I guess you can do what you want with it.”  Giving up, he rose, and draped a blanket over Rush before moving to dress and depart. 

Rush was asleep before he did.  

Rush woke about five hours later feeling warm, rested and sticky.

“Shite,” he muttered, delicately trying to detach himself from his bed sheets.  At least he hadn’t gotten stuck in any…lower places. 

He sighed irritably once he managed to sit up.  He supposed he’d have to do laundry.  He checked the time—still early.  He was usually up and about in the wee hours of what counted for morning, getting his personal stuff done when no one else was likely to be around.  It was a bit late for him, but still likely to be rather quiet. 

He threw off the top cover onto the floor, then scrubbed at his front with the dirty sheet, trying to get as much off as he could before getting up.  Rush had taken to keeping a very small bowl of water and a towel in his room, along with many others on board as rationing allowed, but it was obvious that this would not be sufficient for the task at hand. 

He sighed and picked up a shirt from the floor.  What he really needed was a change of clothes—well, they all did—but it seemed they hadn’t managed to get a tailor in their little band.  They had found that the gel mist from the showers worked just as well at cleaning fabric as people, and dried quite quickly, so most people did both chores at once.  However, repeated washings were starting to leave their clothes rather threadbare. 

The sheets and towels all got put in together in one of showers that had gotten put aside as a makeshift laundry room.  Chore rotations had different people doing the washing in different shifts.  Since it was everyone’s dirty laundry, no one made a point of looking too close.  

He pulled on his shoes and trousers and underwear and a shirt, wrapped up the sheet, and headed first to the laundry room, then to the showers, picking up a clean towel from the laundry while he was there.  He felt grimy and uncomfortable, and the clothes he was wearing just emphasized how desperately he needed a shower. 

He made his way without meeting another living soul and found the showers closest his room blessedly empty.  He quickly peeled off his clothing and stepped in.  He scrubbed his clothes first, hanging them over the divider to dry, then started on himself.

He was quick and efficient.  He rubbed the vapor droplets over his skin and through his hair, scrubbed at the spots that gave a little extra difficulty.  His felt strangely numb, detached. 

Which is why it was such a surprise when he started crying.  It came out of nowhere.  His face just crumpled up and tears started falling.  He bit his lip to keep quiet, leaning a hand against the screen of the shower. 

Don’t you worry, murmured a ghostly voice behind his ear.  It’ll all be just fine. 

Rush shut his eyes, trying to pull himself together. 

You’ll get your cock in you, just like you want.  No need to get weepy.

He shook his head, denying the voice, the words, denying everything.

That’s not…I’m just…

Except he didn’t know why, didn’t know what was making him feel like this.

Shhh.  Let’s not pretend, now.   

Ghost fingers slipped along crack of arseand Rush shuddered, snarling.  He slammed his head back and the phantom shattered, dissolving into the mist and leaving him alone.  He ran a brusque hand over his face and quickly shut off the shower. 

He stood breathing for several minutes, watching condensation form over the opaque screen.  He kept watching as a strangely still, disconnected hand reached out to draw short, uneven lines on the fogged panel.

S            L            U            T

He blinked, staring.  Then, he reached out again—

He only got two perpendicular lines drawn, like the upper left corner of a rectangle, when he heard something.  Quickly, he wiped over everything he’d done, erasing it. 

Wrapping his towel around his waist, he peered out. 

“Hey, are you just about done, or—“  Brody broke off, staring. 

Rush sighed inwardly.  “I’m just about done.”

“Oh.”  Brodey replied quickly.  “Ok.”

Rush slipped back behind the screen, rubbing himself dry, and pulled his clothes on, which were only a bit damp.  His hair would take longer, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that.  Slinging the towel over one shoulder, he stepped out and started putting on his shoes. 

Brody was still standing awkwardly, holding his towel in one hand.  After a second, Rush indicated the shower with a sort of ‘be my guest’ gesture. 

“All yours.”

“Right!”  He started toward the screen.  “You know, I didn’t know that you…showered,” he said, stumbling over the last word. 

Rush looked up, incredulous. 

“I mean,” Brody went on, embarrassed.  “I’ve just never…seen you…around.”

“So, you just thought I never showered?” 

“…No.”

Rush rolled his eyes. 

“I mean, no, I didn’t think that!”  Brody explained hastily. 

Rush stood up straight, done with his shoes.  “I’m usually up earlier.  Or later.” 

“Right,” Brody agreed quickly.  “Right, that makes sen—“

Rush was already out the door. 

Chapter Text

That night was shadowed by another exciting adventure that had the science team, along with everyone else to be fair, scrambling.  It wasn’t until late the next evening that they jumped back to FTL, but everyone let out a sigh of relief when they did.

Rush wasn’t sure whether or not Young planned to pay him a visit that night and he certainly wasn’t about to ask.  He had things to work on anyway, new questions brought up by the latest crises. 

Although, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t work on in his room. 

When the knock came on his door, he forced himself to push down his excitement.  He stayed where he was—sat up on his bed, with his notebook and pen.  There was a long moment and Rush started to wonder if Young was waiting for some kind of invitation, but then the doors swished open and Young stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. 

Rush set his work down on the side table, taking off his glasses as he did. 

“Strip.”

Rush’s lip quirked, but he was past being startled; that was always his first order. 

Young took off his uniform jacket and shoes as Rush shed his layers down to his bare skin.  He laid face down on the bed, before Young had a chance to tell him to.  He wondered a moment if Young would give him trouble for that, but he just approached and ran a hand down the back of his body.

“How’s your chest?”

Rush cocked his head.  “What?”

“Your chest.  From the other night.  Are you sore?”

Rush’s brow furrowed and he shook his head, answering without thinking.  “No, not really.” 

There was a pause.  “Ok.”  Young stood up, moving to nightstand.  “Good.”

Rush watched him from the corner of his eye as he fished in his pocket, taking out what looked like a fresh jar of lubricant and setting it on the nightstand. 

“There should still be—“ Rush started.

“I know,” Young said, pulling open the drawer.  “Just wanted to be sure.” 

He pulled out the other container and opened it.  Rush peered over and—yes, still nearly half full. 

That’s when he put it together.

“You’re fucking me tonight,” he said slowly, feeling a stirring in his groin as he did.

“That’s the plan,” Young affirmed.  “Knees and elbows?” 

Rush smirked, fairly certain that hadn’t been meant to come out as a question.  Keeping his head turned to the side to keep his eyes on Young, he smoothly slid back into position, watching Young’s face flush with an odd satisfaction. 

Young stood for a moment, then curtly grabbed Rush’s pillow, dropping it in front of him before moving out of sight.  Rush dutifully tucked it underneath his chin, clutching it to his chest.  Absently, he heard the sounds of a buckle and zipper being undone, the shuffling of clothes hitting the floor.  A dip in the bed, and then a slick finger was pushing unceremoniously inside. 

Rush hissed and tensed briefly.

“Now who’s impatient?” He cajoled breathlessly.

Young halted.  “Too fast?”

“Oh, no,” Rush smiled.  “It’s just from your previous conduct I was expecting a somewhat different pace.”

Young made no response, and after a moment Rush sighed, made himself relax and spread his knees even wider.  Soon, the finger was working in him again and Rush hmmed contentedly.

The finger crooked suddenly and Rush yelped, head spinning as he went from half-mast to full in a split second. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Young muttered.  “Are you…was that ok?”

Rush took a deep breath.  “Fine,” he said, trying not to sound too high pitched. “Just…bit sudden.”

“Sorry,” Young repeated.  “I just…wanted to make sure that I…” he trailed off, huffing.

Rush paused, half turning to peer over one shoulder. 

“Have you ever done this before?” He asked carefully.

“With...with women,” said Young after a moment, quietly, as though he wasn’t sure how much he wanted Rush to hear.  “…A while ago.”     

“Ah,” said Rush thoughtfully.  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected.  “So…I suppose you’re something of a virgin here.” 

Young snorted.  “Well, since you were going twice a week with Greer—“

“Sometimes more,” Rush interjected cheekily.

“And are such the expert,” he went on, jabbing in a second finger beside the first.  “You be sure to let me know how I’m doing.” 

“Oh, it’s not all that complicated,” Rush said, groaning as Young started scissoring.  “I doubt even you could screw it up.” 

Young withdrew abruptly, coming back with more lube and a third finger.

“That right,” he commented mildly, pressing in till all three were buried to the hilt. 

“Mmm,” Rush assented.  “Besides,” he arched his back and clenched around the slick fingers.  “I’m surprisingly easy to please.” 

“Sure,” Young muttered, twisting.  “You’re a peach.”

He kept adding more and more lube, and soon Rush was practically dripping with it.  Young’s fingers continued to twist and expand against the muscle.  It was the most delicious ache as Rush felt himself stretched and opened, growing ever slicker and wetter.  It made him feel…hot.  Sexy.  Fuckable.  Like…a porn star, or someone at the center of some ancient Roman orgy.  It was decadent. 

When Young added a fourth finger Rush shivered expectantly, because of course he’d have to be stretched more, stretched wider, if he was going to—

He shuddered.  His face was burning, and his cock was…well, it was painful how hard it was, neglected and bobbing aimlessly between his legs.  He buried his face and tried to focus on breathing as Young spread his fingers to their full span, turning them inside him like the hands of a clock.  It was amazing really.  You’d never think it possible, but the body gave way remarkably easily with the right pressures.  Time was he’d been wary at one finger and now—now he thought Young might easily fit his whole hand. 

Wouldn’t that be interesting.

“Alright,” said Young, withdrawing.  “Do you feel…is that enough?”

Rush clenched and flared around where the fingers had been, relishing how loose and sopping wet it felt. 

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed. 

“Ok, then.  Roll over,” said Young, touching Rush’s flank briefly.

Rush pulled up, turning to look over one shoulder dazedly.  “Sorry?”

“I want you on your back,” Young elaborated, placing the jar lubricant down on the bed.

“Why?” Rush blurted out before he could stop himself.  “You want to see my ‘pretty face’?”

“Maybe,” Young answered easily.  “Come on, over.”

Rush turned, grumbling, over to his back.  He’d never done it like this.  He and Greer had certainly never fucked face to face.  He worked to find a comfortable position, folding the pillow under his neck, trying to find a use for his arms.  He was sorely aware of his erection, lying heavy on his abdomen, and felt oddly exposed.  Turning your back was supposed to be the dangerous thing, but now he felt as though he were showing his ‘soft underbelly’—like he were some kind of reptile, who could take comfort in the armored scales everywhere else.

Young had moved halfway off the bed while Rush readjusted.  He stood with one knee resting on the mattress, clad only in an undershirt and boxer shorts. 

Rush swept wary eyes over him, noting the tent in the boxer shorts. 

“Spread you legs.”

Rush’s eyes shot to Young’s, hard and indignant.  He already felt knotted inside, exposed and vulnerable, and now Young wanted him to spread himself open while he watched?  And Rush didn’t fool himself for a moment thinking Young didn’t know precisely what he was doing, the God-damned bastard.

Young just stood there, poker faced as usual, still and silent.  He wasn’t even daring Rush to refuse, he was just…waiting. 

Rush inhaled, long and shaky, and slowly drew up his knees, spreading them to either side. 

“Wider.  Use your hands.”

His breath shuddered, but he dutifully reached a hand under each knee, and pulled them up to his sides.  He knew what Young wanted.  He was familiar with how a woman (Gloria) could open themselves like an orchid, flush and fragrant and inviting.  He doubted the picture he painted was anywhere near as appealing, but if Young had wanted pretty he wouldn’t be here in the first place. 

What Young had here was an arse—slick and stretched and starved for his cock—laid out like a airplane runway.  That would have to be good enough.  Rush swallowed the lump in throat and stubbornly lifted his chin as Young’s gaze raked over him.  Young knew what he was; he had no reason to be disappointed. 

When Young reached for his waistband, Rush couldn’t help the relief that uncoiled in this chest.  That didn’t last over long though, as Rush caught sight of Young’s stiff cock. 

He’d only seen it that once, though that had certainly made an impression.  Hell, it had very well haunted his dreams. 

It was exactly as impressive as he remembered.  If anything, it somehow seemed bigger. 

“Is there a problem?”  Young had caught him staring as he stood at the foot of the bed, and reached down to hold himself with one hand.  Damn thing probably needed the support. 

“No,” Rush muttered quickly.  “No problem.” 

Young was silent.  “You haven’t…you wanted to look at it, before, but you haven’t said anything.”

Rush half-shrugged, awkward in this position.  “I’m sure I couldn’t say anything you haven’t heard.”

“That’s not really the point,” Young replied, bringing up a leg to kneel on the bed.  Rush quirked an eyebrow.  Young paused.  “Are you…ok?”

Rush blinked.  “I…” he began, quizzically.

“Not everyone is,” Young started quickly, then hesitated, seeming to look for words.  “Comfortable.  With…you know.”

Rush stared, then laughed softly.  “I’m fine.  I won’t say I’m not—you’re certainly…more than I’ve ever…” He trailed off.  “But, it’s not in a bad way.”

Young searched his face.  “You’re sure?”

Rush grinned.  “I’d have thought you’d know me better than that by now, after all this.  I’m actually quite,” he paused, licked his lips.  “Intrigued by the idea.”

Young leaned forward, climbing the rest of the way onto the bed.  “Intrigued?” He prompted, teasingly. 

“Mm.  Maybe even a bit excited.”

“Is that the word?” Young idly reached out and ran a finger along the underside of Rush’s prick.

Rush moaned lightly, and lifted his head off the pillow. 

“I didn’t just keep nagging you to fuck me cause I’m a whore, you know.”

“No, course not,” Young agreed darkly.  “You’re also apparently a size queen.”  A slip of confusion must have shown on his face, because then Young said, “You don’t know what that is?”

To be honest, he couldn’t be entirely certain he’d heard the term before, but it didn’t take a genius to work it out.  “A fag with a thing for huge cocks?” 

Young’s eyes flickered.  “Yeah.” 

“Well, come on then,” he said, lips parted around his tongue.  “Your walloper’s not doing much good over there, now is’t?” 

Young growled softly, then reached under Rush’s hips, and lifted him off the mattress.

“Bloody hell!” Rush scrambled up the bed, or would have if he wasn’t so tangled up in his own limbs.  As it was, his elbows caught under his knees, his feet pushed near enough over his head as he was nearly folded in half with his arse sticking straight up in the air. 

Which was the point, he supposed, eyeing his own prick balefully as it dangled down toward his chest.  Somewhat resigned, he relaxed after a moment, and tried to find the least awkward thing to do with arms.  He managed to disentangle them, but then didn’t quite know where to put them after that.  He ended up wrapping them under his legs, placing his hands over the backs of his shins, which currently lay somewhat in the vicinity of his head. 

“Well, this is dignified,” he said from between his knees. 

Young arched an eyebrow.  “Right.  Cause you’ve been just the picture of refinement so far.  I thought your cum-licking was particularly elegant.”

Rush’s face stilled, gaze dropping briefly as he worked to swallow a sudden lump in his throat as discreetly as possible.

“Now,” Young said, all business.  “Here’s how this is gonna work.”

“Please.  Enlighten me.”

“I’m going fuck you—“

“Promises, promises.”

“And you’re going to watch.”

Rush paused a beat, mouth open.  “I’m pretty sure I won’t miss it.”

“I want your full attention,” Young went on, ignoring him.  “Right here.”  He placed two fingers, spread in a V, on either side of Rush’s exposed hole. 

Rush lay there stunned a moment, then let out a derisive puff of air.

“I’m serious,” Young intoned, dipping a finger in lubricant.  He pointed with it sternly, glaring over it at Rush.  “No closing your eyes, no looking away.”  Purposefully, Young drew his hand back, and touched the tip of the slick finger to Rush’s entrance.  “Understood?”

Rush inhaled, about to make another snide comment, when Young smoothly inserted the finger into him.  His breath caught immediately as he watched the digit slide in, disappearing inside.  It went easy, slick and stretched as he was.  He stared dumbly as it sank down, all the way to base, his hole flexing and puckering around it. 

“Well?” 

He glanced up, startled.  Young was looking at him pointedly. 

“Yeah,” he said after a moment.  “Yeah, ok.”

Young nodded subtly and withdrew.  Rush inhaled through his nose in time to finger’s exit. 

With no further words, Young drew himself up straighter and leaned in.  He put one flat palm across Rush’s thigh, using the other hand to line himself up.  The head of his cock pressed lightly against his entrance, which immediately flared slightly in response.

And Rush’s eyelids flickered as his eyes rolled up in his head. 

“Rush,” Young said warningly. 

“Sorry, sorry.”  Rush blinked forcefully, retraining them on where the tip of Young’s cock was perched against his…

Jesus.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to breath out slowly. 

It looked impossible, from this angle.  The finger had gone in easy, sure, but this…this just seemed absurd.  Like trying to fit an elephant’s trunk through a pinhole.

Instead making him want to run, or hide, or otherwise call a halt however, Rush merely felt a sudden urgent need to jerk himself off.

Size queen.  Right.        

Several beats passed, and then Young started to move slowly, slowly, into him.  He felt only a slight pressure at first, hardness pressed against him until his puckered entrance gave way and the tip slipped inside.

Rush rasped deeply in this throat as the head of Young’s cock inched its way into the expanding muscle.  He could feel the beginnings of the stretch, but could also see—see the very moment he was breached and—

He shuddered, gasping. 

Breached.  Invaded.  Penetrated. 

His eyes slammed shut.  God, it was—

“Rush.” 

They shot open again.  Right.  Right. 

The crown of Young’s cock was completely enveloped now, and his arse was really beginning to strain.  Even with extensive preparation this wouldn’t go easy, he could tell.  And as it began to sink into him, as he watched it sink into him, strong and unyielding, Rush felt something more, more than even the force of merciless, blood-engorged flesh.  It ran up the center of him, in his chest and his throat and behind his eyes, and it was on the verge of breaking.

His mouth trembled, a dismal mewling sounding from behind his teeth, and he turned his face away, clenching his eyes tight.

The cock stopped, holding motionlessly, reverberating with potential energy. 

“Rush.”  Rush quivered, immobile.  “Rush.  Open your eyes.”

Rush shook his head forlornly against the bed. 

He felt Young shift, leaning in over him.  His cock slipped in a little farther as he did, and Rush whined, his own cock lurching.

Looming, Young gripped his chin, turning his face.  “Open your eyes.  Do it now.”  Rush gasped sobbingly.  “Rush—“

“I can’t,” he implored, desperately. 

“You can.”

He bit his lip, shaking his head again, frenetically. 

Young just tightened his grip on Rush’s chin. 

“You can.  You will do this, Rush,” he intoned.  “Now.”

“I can’t,” Rush hissed tremulously.  “I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’—

Suddenly, there was a tongue in his mouth.  It plowed deep inside and filled him and Rush’s eyes flared wide, lips parting wider in surprise.  Young was staring right back at him, centimeters away, intent and immersive.  He was held there a moment, in Young’s hazel eyes, and then breath poured into him, and he sucked.  He enveloped Young’s tongue with his mouth, pressing his own flush against it.  Ungoverned, his left hand found its way to Young’s face, laying delicate fingertips along his jaw and cheekbone.  Young held Rush’s jaw between fingers and thumb as he claimed his mouth with staunch, decisive movements.  Sharing breath and spittle, their lips twisted together ferociously as Young plundered him and Rush strove to swallow him down. 

They parted gingerly, releasing and retreating perspicaciously.  Just before Young disengaged completely, Rush inhaled, deep, his mouth falling open even further, and Young plunged inside the pliable crevasse, swiping over teeth and gums and the roof of the mouth.  The tip of his tongue was the last to detach, flicking Rush’s top lip before pulling away. 

“Ok?” Young asked huskily.  Rush nodded.  They were still so close their noses nearly brushed.  “Good.  No more slip-ups, alright?  Eyes open.” 

Rush exhaled, agitated.  “I don’t know if I can—“

“You can,” Young interrupted. 

“But,” Rush floundered.  “How am I…what am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you have to,” Young growled.  “Cry.  Scream.  I don’t care.  Just don’t.  Look away.  Again.”  

Sweat glistened on Young’s brow, beads running down his face.  One drop slid over the tip of his nose and fell with a plop onto Rush’s cheek. 

Rush took a deep breath, licked his lips, and nodded.  Young gave one long look and then, with some effort, pushed himself up.  When he was back in position he looked pointedly at Rush, and Rush dropped his gaze. 

Young’s cock had fallen in to just before it began to bulge.  Rush gulped.  Young took a moment to coat what remained visible with fresh lube, then took Rush hands and moved them until they were clutching Young’s undershirt.  He gripped Rush thighs and bore down.

Rush felt his arse widen to accommodate the increasing intrusion, forced as it was already.  It hurt monstrously, such unforgiving pain, but it wasn’t just that.  He was being filled in ways he’d never thought possible, touched in places he’d never even known were there. 

He was watching himself being dug open.

Young drilled steadily, deeper and deeper.  It was too much, just too much.  There was a bloody pole being sheathed inside him, rending him like cheap cloth as he ogled his own ravaged arse.  When its widest part finally breached him, Rush’s face crumpled, lips trembling, and he inhaled harshly.  He wanted to look away, wanted to hide his face, so badly he wanted to, but—

“…ffffuck,” he gasped, laboriously.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“There we go,” Young rumbled.  He was more than halfway inside now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jesus fuck.”  Frantic, he moved up and gripped hard at Young’s shoulders.  “Jesus.  Fuck.  I…FUUUCK!”  He’d blinked, briefly, but quickly forced his eyelids wide, practically screaming.  “FFFUU—EAURGH.”  Young was almost completely sheathed now and he was so full, too full, bloated to the point of bursting, and he keened gratingly, digging his nails into Young’s shoulders. 

When Young finally fully encased himself, Rush took a deep, deliberate breath, and screamed.  He wailed, hands slipping down to Young’s biceps to find a new, ruthless, grip, as he took Young down to the root.  He clenched around the hard, swollen flesh running, it seemed, all the way up his spine.  His eyes were wide and wild and weeping.  The sounds he made were torn out of him, deep, violent and brutal.

They both stayed several moments, gasping.  Then, Young lifted one hand and deftly detached one of Rush’s.  He brought Rush’s hand between them, and let it go.  Rush flicked his eyes up questioningly, then back down. He reached out with one shaking finger and touched to where the base of Young’s cock lay flush along the rim of his entrance.  It was taut and stretched, aching, and Rush shivered, quickly pulling his hand away. 

He swallowed then, and purposely  lay his arms back loosely over his head.  He waited, watching. 

With a deep, groaning sigh Young withdrew sharply, and plunged back in.

Rush screamed again, fisting the sheets.  He watched Young’s cock pummel his arse, thrusting down with all the strength of Young’s body and gravity, and he started to sob. 

When Young found his prostate,  Rush was suddenly shrieking again.  He panted desperately, trying to get enough air.  His whole body shook, abuse and pleasure propelling him towards the edge of ecstasy.  And still he watched, watched as ruthless flesh violated him again and again and again.  Tears streamed down his face and he gasped in unstable intervals, holding desperately to some elusive, vibrating wire of sanity. 

“Touch yourself.”

He didn’t register the words at first, ears swimming. 

“Do it.  Now, Rush,” Young said, sounding strained.

Rush groped blindly at his throbbing cock, rubbing up and down, erratic, feeling dizzy and exhilarated. 

“Yeah, that’s good.  That’s…good,” Young grunted, and plunged deep, squeezing bruising fingers into Rush’s thighs as he came.  He was mostly quiet, spilling hot cum inside Rush with nothing but a low, breathy moan. 

Rush felt his insides drenched and was just as silent, though that was mostly because he’d stopped breathing.  Oh God, it was…it was—

And then he was coming too.  He threw his left arm over his mouth and bit down hard as he wailed, shook, cried, and spurted filth all over himself.

Young drew out of him—fast, too fast, painfully fast—and quickly stuck two fingers inside the sore, gaping flesh.  Rush yelped and then watched in horror as Young pressed into his prostate.  He could only keen sobbingly as cum surged in wave after relentless wave, coating his stomach, chest, and nearly up to his chin. 

Finally, there seemed to be nothing left, his cock left twitching, empty and pathetic, as Young slowly removed his fingers. 

Rush collapsed, quivering, as muscles spasmed throughout his body.  He was still spread open, legs wide, and he looked evenly over his bruised arse, now with a new kind of exhausted fascination.  His opening was a deep red, stretched loose, dilating and contracting unevenly after the assault.

Then something inside him squeezed and pale cum spurted out. 

Rush whimpered, shaking helplessly as it streamed from his hole, trailing obscenely over the curves of his arse.

“Can I—“ he broke off.  His voice sounded painfully weak.  He swallowed, and tried again.  “Can I look away yet?”

A long pause lay think in the air. 

“Yeah,” Young murmured, timbre gruff. 

Rush looked up.  Young sat sprawled between his knees, looking sodden and spent.  His hair curled and stuck damply to his neck and forehead.  His skin glittered. 

He was looking down, hazily.  After a moment he looked to Rush. 

“You’re bleeding.”  He held up his two sticky fingers, gesturing generally toward Rush’s exposed posterior. 

Rush blinked mutedly.  “Oh.  Badly?”

“No,” Young responded, after a moment.  “I don’t think so.”  He looked at Rush then, studying him.  His features began to firm as his expression turned intent.  He lifted his fingers again, rubbing them together slightly.  “Do you know what this is?” he asked, voice husky.

Rush looked at the substance coating them; pearly white with—yes—bits of reddish-pink streaked through. 

Cherries and cream, he quipped faintly to himself.  He wasn’t quite sure what Young wanted him to say, though.

“Blood and cum?” he ventured, airily.

“It’s—” Young started, then stopped abruptly.  “Yeah.” 

He reached out then, placing his two fingers over the middle of Rush’s upper lip.  Carefully, he traced them in opposite directions over Rush’s mouth, painting his lips in a clear, rosy-white gloss.  When they met again on Rush’s bottom lip, he slid them gently into his parted mouth.  Rush didn’t even hesitate; he sucked, closing slurpingly over the intruders.  He swathed the brackish, syrupy digits with his tongue, and swallowed the ooze down, copper and all.

When Young brought his hand away, Rush stickily licked over his smeared lips.  Young watched him a moment, and slowly started to ease down Rush’s legs.  Rush winced, hip joints aching, then slowly flexed his feet as Young moved to lie by his side. 

Rush turned his head to look over him, raking over his sweat-stained undershirt and lower nakedness.  He tilted his head slightly at Young’s limp cock.  It looked almost innocuous now, like this.  Smaller, obviously, but also simply less daunting in its passivity.

He opened his mouth to comment something to that effect, when Young smoothly reached out and ran three fingers up Rush’s stomach, from navel to clavicle, picking up bits of the viscous mess there, and deposited them easily in Rush’s mouth.  Rush sucked again till Young deigned to remove them, at which point he immediately set to repeat the process.

“This is exceedingly inefficient,” Rush remarked, just before his mouth was full again. 

“Mm,” Young commented.

“Really,” Rush continued when Young went to make another sweep.  “It’s a comical misappropriation of labor.”  His eyes flickered.  “Aren’t you tired?”

“Exhausted,” Young replied, not pausing in his movements.  “I’m amazed how you do this,” he said idly a bit later.  “It’s gotta be pretty unpleasant, taste-wise if nothing else.”

Rush shrugged faintly.  “You get used to it.  Besides,” he said, eyes skirting away.  “Pleasantness isn’t the point.” 

“And what is the point?” asked Young lowly. 

Rush didn’t respond. 

“Well, it’s certainly nice you don’t come with much hair on you,” he said, rubbing pointedly along Rush’s smooth chest.  “What was the beard, compensation?”

“Oh, shut up,” Rush sneered.  Young grinned.

“It’s occurring to me,” Rush said abruptly.  “Rather late I suppose, that we haven’t exactly been careful.”  Young squinted, puzzled.  “You know.  We haven’t been…responsible.’” 

“Isn’t that our thing?  Careless and irresponsible.”

Rush sighed irritably.  “You know what I mean.”

“Safe sex.”

Rush pressed his lips together.  “Yeah.”

Young breathed out, seeming to condense in mass with the exhalation.  “Everyone working on the Icarus Project was screened—“

“Yeah, but,” Rush interrupted, trailing off leadingly. 

After a moment, Young shrugged.  “I figured if it was an issue you’d bring it up.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly at that.  “That’s an awful lot of trust in someone who tried to frame you for murder.” 

Young went still then, but only for a heartbeat.  “What about you?” he asked in response as he slipped his fingers between Rush’s lips.  “You didn’t seem concerned.”

“I forgot about it,” Rush retorted shamelessly, when they withdrew.

Young snorted.  “So, what?  You want to strive to be more sanitary in the future?”

“Bit late for that,” Rush jeered, lifting to snap up Young’s once again cum covered fingers. 

“You’re impressively chipper,” Young commented.

“Oh, don’t be fooled.  I’m on the verge of unconsciousness, trust me.  I know the feeling.”

“Well don’t let me keep you.  Sleep, if you want.  I wasn’t planning on dealing with your punishment until tomorrow anyway.”

Rush’s eyelids had already begun to fall, but they opened quickly at that last bit.

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you not to look away,” Young explained easily.

“I didn’t!”

“Eventually, yes,” Young explained smoothly, sounding annoyingly like he’d rehearsed this.  “But you did.  Three times.”  Rush gaped at him.  “Don’t worry about it tonight.  Just get some rest.” 

Miraculously, he did.  His eyes closed, breathing evened.  He fell asleep gently, with three cum-soaked fingers on his tongue.   

Chapter Text

It was the next afternoon, and Rush found himself at his wit’s end.

He had woken that morning alone, remarkably clean (Young must have bathed him somehow after he’d fallen asleep, an idea he found himself disconcertedly alright with) and pleasantly sore.  He’d gotten breakfast, gone to work.  There was just one, little problem. 

Young hadn’t told him what he was going to do yet. 

Well, he had, just not very specifically, and it was driving Rush mad.  He realized of course that it only made sense that, given their pattern, Young would wait for that evening to enact whatever…discipline he had concocted, but he hadn’t realized what a very long time that actually was. 

He fisted his left hand, twisting it in circles from the wrist, keenly aware of the mark that lay under his sleeve from where he’d bitten himself.

There were also some lovely finger shaped bruises the color of old red wine on the backs of his thighs.

He needed to know.  Now.  He needed it over and done with. 

It didn’t occur to him to try to fight, or hide, or even reason his way out of this.  Young had caught him, fair and square.  This was part of…whatever this was, and along with trepidation there was an undeniable…excitement; lust and panic swirling together tumultuously deep in his lower belly. 

You know what you need.  Now be a good boy and take your lumps.

Rush sighed.  He’d never been all that great at good.  Even less at patient.

Which was how he ended up in Young’s quarters. 

Young looked up startled as Rush entered.  He was seated on the sofa, bent over some kind ‘paper work’ sprawled on the table in front of him.  Rush quickly slammed the door control behind him.

“Well?” Rush demanded.  “What is it?”

“Huh?” Young replied articulately.

“What is it.  What’s it going to be,” Rush answered in clipped tones.  “Something with three.  You made a point of saying three, so three what?  Three times however many lashes, three inches up my arse, three idiots added to my science team?  Three fingers broken, what?”

“That seems a little extreme,” Young said, sitting up.  Rush just huffed impatiently.  “I was planning on tonight, but…it’s really bothering you?” he asked with genuine interest.  Rush didn’t say anything.  “Ok.  We can move things up.”  He shifted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his hands together.  “Have you eaten?”

Rush blinked.  “Yeah.”

Young nodded.  “I want you to go take a shower, clean up.  Do whatever you need to, then go back to your room and wait for me.”  Rush paused, then nodded, half turning away, when Young held out a hand.  “Give me your radio.”  Rush balked, incredulous.  Young gestured insistently.  With defeated sigh, Rush handed it over.  Young took it, setting it aside quickly, then looked back to Rush expectantly.  “And your phone.”

Rush sputtered.  “It doesn’t even work out here.  It’s only good to tell time.”

“I know.”

Rolling his eyes, he gave that over as well.

“Ok,” Young said, satisfied.  “Now you can go.”

Rush stood a moment, then let out a quiet sigh, and left.

Rush sat on the edge of his bed, tapping his heel restlessly.  He’d tried to work some equations for a while but he hadn’t been able to keep his concentration enough to make any real progress and he was tired of wasting paper.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting, had no way to tell since Young had taken his mobile, which had clearly been the whole idea. 

Bastard.

He rubbed his neck, which still felt oddly squeaky clean after the scrubbing he’d given himself.  Young hadn’t specified exactly, but he clearly wanted him as dirtless as possible.  He’d also used the facilities and even brushed his teeth. 

See?  You can be good when you put the effort in.

It was pathetic. 

When the door swished open, he nearly jumped.  Young stepped in, looking the same as he always did.  He was carrying something, Rush couldn’t quite make out—

“Strip.”

Rush felt his stomach drop. 

Getting right to it then.

He moved carefully, neither slow nor quick, laying his clothes evenly on the bed.  Young dropped a couple odd objects on the corner of the mattress, then retrieved lubricant from the nightstand.  When he was naked, Rush faced Young from where he stood, hands clasped sedately in front of him. 

“Bend over the bed,” said Young briskly, opening the jar.

Rush swallowed, flushing, but complied.

Almost immediately, there were two slick fingers in him, stretching him, then quickly a third.  It was faster than Young had gone last night, and Rush was still quite sore, but is wasn’t…

“This doesn’t feel like punishment,” Rush commented breathlessly. 

“We haven’t started yet.  This is just to get ready.” 

Rush sobered at that, bowing his head to the mattress.  Soon, he was slicked up, dripping lube, his cock plumping amicably between his legs. 

“Ok.  Stand up,” Young instructed, wiping his fingers on the back of Rush’s thigh.  “Turn around.”

Rush did, arse squishing strangely.  Young picked up Rush’s belt, brought Rush’s arms together in front of him and efficiently cinched them together, binding up the forearm.  When he was done, Rush moved them up and down by the elbow, trying to find the least awkward position, as Young went to retrieve something else.  He ended up just letting them hang down over his genitals, rolling his shoulders discomfitedly. 

“Turn around.”

Rush rolled his eyes, but did so.  This was getting tiresome. 

A dark cloth was placed over his eyes, secured tightly behind his head.  Rush blinked a few times experimentally, but he couldn’t see anything. 

So.  Young had a ‘fit the crime’ attitude.

Rush’s lip quirked.

Next there was some sort of headphone set placed over his ears, insulated so well that all sound was virtually cut off.  He could feel his heartbeats vibrating through him, the rasping of his own breathing and the rushing sound of blood in his ears, but little else. 

Apparently, Young also had a tendency toward extremes. 

There was a clicking sound in his ear.

“Can you hear me?” 

Com link. 

Rush nodded. 

“How’s the volume?  Loud, soft?”

“It’s fine,” Rush replied, and was treated to the disconcerting feeling of not being able to hear himself. 

It occurred to him then that the only thing he’d be able to really hear for the foreseeable future, was Young’s voice.

A hand was at his elbow then, and he was led slowly, carefully, through the room.  Rush shifted his feet cautiously, blind, deaf and disoriented, trying hard to follow without too much stumbling. 

They stopped, and he thought he felt a slight shift in the air, though he could have been imagining it, and then Young was coaxing him forward.  He reached out instinctively with his hands, bound as they were, and felt nothing, but as he probed tentatively with his foot he came up against something, hard and cold, protruding from the floor. 

“Up,” Young’s voice prompted softly through the com.  Rush lifted his foot carefully and it didn’t take that long to reach over his obstacle. 

That’s when he realized.  It was the doorway.  They were leaving his room.

“No,” he protested, falling back.  Young was there to catch and hold him, and he pressed back desperately with what weight he had.  “No, no, you can’t.”  He kept his outcries quiet, though no less fervent for that, afraid of being heard.

They were no longer guarded within their own space and he couldn’t see.

“Come on, Rush.  Let’s go,” said the voice in his ear.

“What are you doing?” he pleaded frantically.

“We’re just taking a little walk,” Young answered placatingly.

“No.  No.  You…you wouldn’t—“ 

It didn’t make any sense.  Young wouldn’t want anyone to see this any more than he did.  It…it could cost him his command, couldn’t it?  They wouldn’t understand, they’d think—“

You think anyone on this ship cares about you?

That’s not the point, people care about who’s leading them, he’d almost had to step down once before, they wouldn’t let him—

Leave you for dead?

That…they didn’t know what had happened.  Not for sure.

Don’t be daft.  You really think anyone gives a shite what happens to you?  What he does to you?

Under the blindfold, he closed his eyes.

They like him better than you, y’know.

Young was holding him tightly as Rush squirmed rebelliously, preventing him from retreating back into the room.  Rush struggled, but he was at a clear disadvantage and Young held him easily.  He was breathing hard, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You…you can’t risk this, you can’t want anyone—“

Or maybe he did.  Maybe he knew something he didn’t.  He didn’t think any of the civilians would stand for this, but the soldiers…what if…what if they—

“If you’re worried about being seen, I suggest you get a move on.”   

Rush stilled, breathing deep, and swallowed. 

Biting his lips, he pressed forward.

The air seemed colder, even though he knew that was not the case.  By in large all of Destiny was much the same.  His feet slid over the metal floors, toes gripping erratically as he stumbled forward.  Young stayed at his elbow, moving him gently one way or the other.  He thought of trying to keep track of their movements, but honestly he couldn’t even be sure when they were going in a straight line and when they were turning.

His own breath was deafening, his head rushing.  Images of crewmen passing them in the halls kept flickering in his minds eye.  It wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening, it was impossible, but still—jeering laughter echoed against his skull, imprecise and impossible to pin down.  Of course, if they did pass anyone, he’d never know it.  He’d never see or hear anything.  

Young could be leading him to an airlock for all he knew.  Surrounded by cheering crowds.   

That would never happen.

Suddenly, they stopped, and then he was inching his way across another doorway. 

To what or where, he had no idea.

A few more steps, and Young let him go. 

Click.  “Get on your knees.”

“Where are we?” Rush asked, even as he fumbling to obey.  There was no answer.  Rush lifted his chin and bit his lip, letting out something between a chuckle and sob.  “Right.”

His cock was full.  It had been for ages. 

A hand on the back of his neck guided him down and he complied, bending on all fours, and resting his head against his bound arms on the floor.  Then hands were lifting his haunches and spreading his knees apart.  A single finger slipped inside him.  He was still plenty wet. 

When Young’s cock breached him, it was almost relief that flooded through his limbs.  He tilted his head back, mouth panting, as it filled him up, more and more, welcoming the pain. 

Could he be being watched?  Right now?  Was he, at this moment, surrounded by sophomoric soldiers, watching Young fuck him with his enormous cock?  ‘Yeah,’ they could be saying.   ‘Fuck that ass.’  ‘You show him, Colonel.’  ‘Give it to him good.’  ‘Yeah, you take it, you little bitch, take it all.’

And he would.  He was.  Taking it all. 

God, he was so fucking hard.

It hurt like hell, but he was so fucking hard. 

Young made no move to touch his prostate as he slid in and out, though given his size he couldn’t avoid an occasional indirect brush.  The message was clear.  He hadn’t been given permission rub himself off either, and he wasn’t about to ask. 

If he came tonight, it would be entirely by accident. 

He almost did, when Young gushed his spunk into him, mewling as his own cock began to leak.

He placed his head onto his elbows as Young withdrew, clasping his hands and biting his lips.  A moment later, something new was pressed against his entrance, and he stiffened.  It was hard—harder than flesh—and cold, oddly shaped; it’s surface unnaturally smooth but with glaring inconstancies.  There was something deeply unsettling about it, and it made Rush squirm discomfitedly as it was pushed inside him. 

When it was completely sheathed, Rush’s anus contracted to envelope it, though he could feel some odd sliver of something still sticking out of him. 

Click.  “How does that feel?”

“Uncomfortable,” Rush answered promptly.

There was a pause.  “Uncomfortable how?”

Rush sighed.  “It’s not unduly painful, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay.  Good.”  His backside was urged downward then, till he was seated back on his legs.  He was still bowed forward on his knees, but it was a slightly more comfortable position.  “Here’s the deal,” Young went on, and Rush had a sense of him settling in.  “You’re going to stay like this.  Exactly.  Like this.  You asked about three.  It’s time.  Hours.  Three hours.” 

For a minute, Rush just froze, stunned. 

“That’s insane.  That’s…you can’t.”

“Why not.”

“You can’t.  What…what if something happens.  The ship, you might need me to—“

“Then I’ll come get you,” Young replied in clipped tones.

He blinked, sputtering.  “Come get me?  You’re leaving?”

“I’ll check in on you, don’t worry.”

Rush gaped, panting.  “Three hours.  Starting when?  Starting now?”

Pause.  Click.  “Starting from when you got the blindfold on.” 

Well.  That was something at least. 

“And how long has it been?”

He waited. 

No answer.

He banged his hands against the floor, bound and in fists.  His lips pressed together tightly as tears prickled behind the dark fabric.

“Now,” Young said after a minute.  “I’m trusting you not to move around while I’m gone.  I haven’t tied you well enough to keep you here if you really made to duck out.  You understand?” 

Rush curled his fingers, breathing softly. 

Yes.  He understood.  He could get out of this if he really wanted to.  Hell, he could have used their safe word at any point, he supposed, though that hadn’t occurred to him until right this minute.  His arms were bound together, but that was just  symbolic really.  Young had told him to stay here like this—naked and prone, blind and deaf, arse slick and stuffed—because he had disobeyed him before.

Did he dare do it again? 

Because that was his choice.  Disobey, or…safe word out.  Break the…whatever it was that made this.

He wasn’t about to do that. 

He nodded, subdued.  “I understand.” 

Click. “Good.  I’ll be back.”

Rush bit back a whimper, and ducked his head. 

It was only three hours.  Less than, actually. 

But Rush wasn’t fool enough to think it wouldn’t feel like much longer.

The first time Young left him, Rush tried to keep track of the minutes.  He tapped rhythms with his fingers, or listened to his heartbeat, counting in his head.  Every time he got lost—confused or distracted. 

His arse clenched around its intruder; he still wasn’t sure what it was exactly. Metallic, he was fairly certain at this point, or something of equal density, but the shape was hard to place. 

And then there was the floor itself, capable of transferring vibrations from his surroundings.  He became hyper-aware of every possible tremor, but there was never anything substantial enough to be chalked up to more than nervous imagination. 

Nervous, restless, runaway imagination. 

He had no idea where he was, and exploring blind would be a supremely bad idea.  He didn’t think Young would put him anywhere dangerous, but still…and in any case, if he did that he might as well give the whole thing up and just free himself and that—

Wasn’t going to happen. 

So he stayed, his mind conjuring millions of eyes to look down on his vulnerable form.  He felt deeply exposed, for obvious reasons, but even more for not knowing his exact surroundings.  He could be in a niche, a bathroom, one of Destiny’s dark secluded hallways…or just as easily the Gate Room or Observation Deck.  Hell, he could be in the goddamned mess hall.  Not that he thought Young would leave him anywhere public, it was just—he didn’t know. 

In fact, now that he thought about it, why not leave him somewhere to be found?  Somewhere like the showers, empty for a time perhaps, but by no means private.  Young wasn’t here; there was nothing to link him to Rush’s huddled, naked body.  Rush could tell, but who would believe him? 

The worst fear (improbable, irrational), was still that no one would care, that he wasn’t secluded at all, but out in the light for all to see, with dozens of people walking past, pointing, laughing, or (worse maybe) barely giving him a second glance.  That he might be in some crowded room, bustling and cheery apart from his…that was what made his heart pound and chest heave, his throat clench and his face grow hot. 

It also made his cock twitch, but that was neither here nor there.  He squirmed, hips and arse wriggling in concentric circles, trying to bury his arousal. 

When a hand gripped his right butt-cheek he almost jumped out of his skin. 

Young said he would check on him, he thought, heart pounding.  Although…in a moment of wild panic, he realized he couldn’t be certain this was Young. 

Perhaps an indifferent crowd wasn’t the worst nightmare after all.  What if Young had put him somewhere safe, and he’d been found?  Stumbled upon, somehow. 

The hand urged his arse up, slipping into his crack and pulling at the thing inside.  Rush opened his mouth, Young’s name on his lips, when he stopped.  If this was someone else…should he really incriminate Young like that?  It probably wouldn’t make whoever it was stop and would only give the assailant valuable information.  If it was Young, well, then it hardly mattered did it?  And there was no guarantee Young would answer, anyway. 

The metal thing slipped out of him with a squish sound—there was still cum inside him from earlier—and he shivered.  If this was indeed someone else (unlikely, lacks substantial reasoning), shouldn’t he stop him?  They hadn’t discussed it, but he doubted Young would be overly pleased having his atonement disrupted by an uninvited interloper.

If he was uninvited.  Maybe this was part of…maybe there had been invitations.  ‘Hey, if you’re interested, I got Rush trussed up in the—‘

There could be graffiti on a door proclaiming ‘Free Fuck Inside’.

There were two fingers inside him now, re-lubricating, even though he was still fairly slick.  He was shaking with arousal now, hard, hot blood rushing through him.  But he was also shaking in a cold sweat born of fear.  He worried a piece of the belt binding his arms between his teeth and bit down, tasting leather. 

This could be rape, he thought to himself, his own voice small and weak in his head.  I could be letting myself be raped. 

And liking it.

The fingers were gone now.  There was something else, warm and hard, at his entrance. 

He covered his mouth with both hands, lifting his head, seeing nothing but blackness. 

He was breached, slowly, until the tip was inside him.  Then, hands seized his hips and he was plunged into all at once. 

A pause, at the deepest point of penetration, and something in Rush uncoiled.

He hadn’t been sure about the hands, but he knew Young’s cock now.  Knew it well enough. 

He breathed deeply, gratitude and relief pouring into him as he was fucked. 

When Young had taken him earlier today, there had been something easy about it, gradual, like a tide coming in.  This was not like that.  He was being ruptured, broke open, mined—with a jackhammer and explosives—and (as close as he was to coming) it felt like a punishment. 

It wasn’t just the pain, though there was plenty of that, but the pressure, the force of it.  The intention.  This was not for his pleasure.  He wasn’t meant to feel pleasure in this—that he did was his own flaw.  But at least he could take it as he should, let Young take his pleasure in him. 

When he spilled himself on the floor, he relished the way his muscles contracted around Young’s cock.  And as Young continued his thrusts through Rush’s aftershocks, Rush used the tremors to ease the tension in his muscles, opening to the assault even further. 

Young came inside him hot and ferocious, adding to the cum he’d left in Rush before.  He withdrew, and as he eased the plug (Rush might not know what it really was, but that was its current function) back in Rush’s arse, Rush dropped into his own current function.  He was a vessel—a vat for Young to dump his cum into.  And as he accepted that role, slipped into some imaginary, skin-tight cover with the word CUMBAG emblazoned on it, his mind quieted.  Other eyes could very well be watching him but they no longer mattered, because he no longer mattered.  He was a thing.  Young’s thing. 

Young could do what he liked with him. 

Rush lowered he rear into its resting position at the slightest brush of Young’s hand, and waited. 

Time was nothing.  There was no more thought of how long it had been or how long it would be because there was only the now; this breath, this heartbeat, now this one, and this one, and on and on.  The plug in his arse, the belt around his arms, his own cum oozing on the floor to meet his knees—they were accepted with a cool matter-of-factness that this was how things were.  This was his life.  No.  Not life.  Existence.  He existed, and that was all.

When Young returned a second time, he found Rush in this state of quietude.  He ran hands over Rush, head and neck and back and arms, everywhere.  Rush could feel him traverse the suppleness of his body, meeting less than no resistance.  For his part, he let himself be handled, surrendered himself to it.  And when Young took him again it was neither languid nor brutal but with the simplicity of a smooth stone dropped in a clear pool.  With certainty.  With belonging.

The pain only made it feel more right. 

He returned complacently from his fuckable position to his waiting one, re-plugged with his cum-loads sealed inside him, serene and unquestioning. 

He didn’t know how much time passed after that, in the silence and the dark. 

When the com-link crackled in his ear, he wasn’t even startled.  He was too still, too compliant, to react.

“Ok,” Young said, placing a hand on his back.  “You’re done.  We’re gonna go slow though.  Do exactly as I say.”

Rush nodded tranquilly into his arms.  First, Young removed the plug.  After a moment, Rush felt sticky substances start to drip and dribble from his arse, running thickly down his crack and over his inner thighs and bollocks.  Then the belt holding his arms was unbuckled.  Warm hands rubbed into the stiff limbs all the way up to the shoulders.  Young slowly sat him up, massaging into his back and ribs as he did, keen to any sign of stiffness. 

“I want to get you off your knees, so I need you to stand up, but carefully.”

Rush nodded again, and started to lift one leg to stand on.  He wobbled, and Young was there, holding one arm with his own.  Rush grasped onto the offered limb and let it support his weight.  He managed to get a foot underneath him and pressed up.  Young stayed on the floor, supporting him at the waist as he rubbed over Rush’s legs.  Rush found his hands on Young’s shoulders, leaning into them, as Young worked the kinks out of his knees and hips and ankles. 

When he was able, Rush let Young go, and stood back on his own feet. 

“I’m going to take the headphones off now.  There’s really no gradual way to do this, so cover your ears if you need to.”

Rush could sense Young’s presence in front of him, probably less than arms length away, and then the headphones were being lifted off his head.  He took Young’s advice and covered his ears.  It wasn’t overwhelming, but after its absence, the hums and creaks of the ship were unsettling.  Slowly, he uncovered them, adjusting to the inflow. 

“Better, huh?”

Rush nodded absently.  The sound of the first real voice he’d heard in hours reminded of all his fears again.  He didn’t hear anything else, no signs of life, just the generic noises of Destiny, usually quiet enough he hardly noticed them.  He stretched his fingers nervously. 

He felt and heard Young move around behind him.  “Keep your eyes closed while I take this off, make the adjustment easier.”

Rush complied, closing his eyes under the blindfold.  A moment later, it was gone.  Carefully, he blinked his eyes open. 

The first thing he felt was a stab of fear.

“I can’t see anything.”

“I turned down all the lights, sorry,” Young replied.  “Here.” 

After a moment, a low glow spread over their surroundings.  Rush flicked his gaze over its contents rapidly.

Bed, nightstand.  Sofa.  A table, with papers scattered across it. 

Young’s quarters. 

They were in Young’s quarters.

That’s where he’d been.  The whole time.

Rush crumpled.  Mouth trembling, his knees buckled as he gasped sobbingly.  Young caught him under the arms, lowering him gently to the floor while he wheezed, close to hyperventilating.  He fell back to his knees and folded over himself, tears beginning to stream down his face.  Young held him across the chest, lips pressed into the back of his spine, and Rush just shook, everything, everything, pouring out of him.

Slowly, in starts and stops, the fit subsided.  The tremors came only in weak spurts as he blinked away the last tears and sniffled pathetically.  He felt too heavy to move but too light to feel the floor.  As his breathing evened out, Young’s arms reach under him and lifted.  Young carried him like a rescued damsel in a fairytale but Rush was too weak to care, limbs limp and eyes blurry. 

He was laid to bed gently and he shuddered at the pleasant warmth, eyelids flickering as they tried to stay open. 

“There now,” said Young as he tucked him in.  “It’s all over.  You did good.”

Rush blinked tiredly.  He tried to speak, but it came out muffled, incomprehensible.

“What?” Young asked, pushing loose strands of hair out of Rush’s face.

Rush coughed lightly, and tried again.  “Well.  I did well.”

Young hands stopped mid-motion, and then he chuckled.  “Yeah.”

Rush’s eyelids fell then, and he was asleep.

He blinked awake feeling warm, rested, and clean. 

It was rather surprising actually, especially the clean part.  Young must have washed him while he was asleep.  Again. 

He really needed to figure out how he felt about that.

He shifted under the sheets, rousing his sleepy muscles.  He was still naked, which wasn’t much of a shock, but nonetheless an important observation. 

“Good morning.”

Young was seated on the sofa, half dressed in trousers and an undershirt.

“What time is it?”

Young grinned. “Early.”

Rush sighed impatiently.  “How early?”

“Very.  Middle of the night early.”

Rush groaned lightly, rubbing one eye. 

“We got an early start yesterday, remember,” Young prompted.

“Yes, yes, I remember.”  Rush reopened his eyes, able to take in his surroundings more clearly than he had upon first waking.  “Did you sleep on the sofa?” He asked after a moment. 

“Uh,” Young looked awkwardly toward the spare bedding beside him.  “Yeah.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rush reprimanded.

Young shrugged.  “So?”

“So.  It’s your bed.”

“I think you needed it more,” Young replied lightly.  Rush’s hand fisted compulsively in his blankets.  That hadn’t exactly been what he’d meant.  “Trust me.  I slept fine,” Young assured him, stretching his shoulders.  “Out like a light.”  Rush felt the corner of his mouth quirk slightly.  “Your clothes are over there,” he said, pointing. 

Rush looked to his left.  He must have gotten them from his room.  Sighing, he shifted up on his elbows, swinging his legs over the side as he sat up.

He hissed in sharp through his teeth. 

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Jesus fuck.

“Sore?” Young asked mildly.

“In every way possible,” Rush answered, breathless, grasping at the bed with both hands as he doubled over from the waist. 

He heard a low chuckle from across the room and turned a dark glare toward Young from the corner of his eye. 

“This is your fault, you know,” Rush bit out. 

Young just looked back at him with an expression that said, ‘I won’t even dignify that with a response,’ then got up and crossed to the bed. 

“Come on,” he said, taking Rush’s hands and pulling him to his feet, Rush wincing pitifully all the way.  “Over here.”  He walked Rush to the nook in the wall, going slowly as Rush made one tender step at a time, head down and hunched over.  He gripped at the counter without being told, bracing himself on his elbows.  Young reached over him and picked something up.  Rush lifted his head to look at Young through the mirror. 

“What’s that?”

“Some kind of topical pain killer.  TJ gave it to me when I was still having trouble with my knee, but I’ve used it for everything from razor burn to toothaches.  Little bit goes a long way.  Here, spread your legs.”

Rush complied with a sigh, putting even more weight on his arms and letting his thighs fall open. 

Young whistled lowly.  “Ouch.”

“Bad?” Rush asked. 

“Could be worse,” Young replied, though he didn’t sound entirely certain of that.

“Well, you know,” Rush started conversationally.  “I was just fucked by a pretty sizable cock, what, four times in twenty-four hours?  After a not inconsiderable dry spell, I might add.”  Young brushed a finger lightly along his enflamed anus and Rush winced silently, the bruised muscle flinching reactively.  “Not to mention the—“

Suddenly, Young took a bit of flesh between two fingers and pinched.

Rush slammed forward into the counter hard enough to pound himself in the stomach.

“Bloody hell!”

“Sorry,” Young said, sounding not very sorry at all really.

“I should kick you!”

“Sorry,” Young repeated, somewhat more gravely this time.

“In the bollocks!”

“I’m sorry,” Young said a third time, clear and low and even.

Rush grumbled, shifting his shoulder blades irritably. 

“Fucking sadist.”

There was a long pause.

“…Apparently.”      

Rush looked up.  It had been said quietly, barely a mumble.  He watched Young’s reflection, eyes cast downward, face as inscrutable as ever, except…except something. 

“You could go again, you know.” 

Young looked up sharply, locking eyes with Rush in the mirror. 

“What?”

Rush had no idea what had made him speak up in the first place, but now that he had—

“Go again.  Now.”  He wriggled his hips a bit.  “You know.  If you wanted.”  He watched Young’s face.  Young watched his.  He leaned forward minimally, just the barest shift towards the mirror, and raised his brows, somewhere between ‘invitation’ and ‘challenge’.  “I can take it.” 

Young’s face didn’t move. 

“Maybe,” said Young.  “But would be able to walk afterwards?”  He smiled softly. 

Rush didn’t know what to say to that, but he found himself smiling back just a little, for reasons he couldn’t begin to guess.  Young’s smile broadened then, and Rush looked away. 

The next thing he felt was something cool and sticky, Young fingers gently coating the aching area.  Rush moaned, dropping his head into his arms. 

“Better?”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Good.  I’m gonna try and get some inside too, ok?”

“Mmm,” Rush assented lazily, and was rewarded a moment later by a slick digit slipping inside him.  He hummed pleasantly to himself and let the stuff do its work, soreness already starting to ebb into numbness. 

As the pain eased, he found himself scanning over his field of vision, which was admittedly narrow at the moment.  The counter held all Young’s typically basic accoutrements—uninteresting at best.  However, at this particular moment, there were a few other choice items.  The blindfold, for one, and right next to it the headset he’d used to block his hearing.  Rush sighed contently as he looked them over, so innocuous looking, set there next to Young’s razor and washcloth.  The belt was probably over with his clothes, which just left—

Rush squinted, zeroing his observation on the object sitting half hidden behind the military grade headphones. 

“Is that a grenade?” he demanded after a moment. 

“Just the casing,” Young replied easily.  “No ammo.” 

“Oh, well, that’s a relief,” said Rush, tone acerbic.  “I’d hate to think I had a live grenade up my arse for three hours.”

“Don’t exaggerate.  It couldn’t have been more than two, altogether.”

Rush snorted.

“How did we get here, anyway?” He asked after a moment’s thought.

“What do you mean?”

“We did walk through the halls, didn’t we?” Rush said, turning his head.  “I’m assuming no one saw us.”  He paused.  “Right?”

Young was quiet a moment.  “Right.”

“So, how did you manage it?”

Young sighed.  “Emergency drill.  In case of contaminate, everyone is confined to their quarters until all cases have been identified.”

“Are you serious?” Rush shook his head.  “Being commander has its benefits.”

“On occasion.”

“That’s why you took my radio,” Rush exclaimed in sudden realization.  “So I wouldn’t know about it.”  There was no answer, but he didn’t need one.  “Bastard.”

“Here,” Young said, and removed his hand with a light smack to Rush’s rump.  “That should be good.”

“Yeah,” Rush said, straightening.  “Much better.  Thanks.” 

He turned around.  Young was standing just behind him, wiping his hands.  They were very close, and Rush abruptly felt much more naked than he had a moment before, even more than when he’d had Young’s fingers up his arse.  Young’s eyes were downcast, evading, but he didn’t step away. 

“You know,” Rush started, eyeing the pulse at Young’s throat.  “I really could go again.  That stuff you put...” He hesitated, infinitesimally.  “In me.  It’s very good.  I feel…” He clenched his buttocks.  “Ready.”  Young didn’t respond.  Rush tilted his head, trying to catch his gaze.  “I know you want to.  I can tell.”

Young’s eyes lifted abruptly.  “Can you.” 

“Uh-huh,” Rush responded.  “I must say, I’m impressed.  Man your age.”  He squinted his eyes.  “Are you taking something?”

Young stared him down ruefully.  “Ha ha.”

“It’s an honest question,” Rush said, insistently. 

“Sure.”

“So, no then?”

“Not that I know of,” Young answered dryly.  “Something you want to tell me?”

Rush drew back, incredulous.  “Are you accusing me?”

“Maybe.”

“Of doping you!”

“You do have a vested interest.”

Rush laughed.  “So, you will admit, you’ve been unusually…vigorous lately.”

Young hmm-ed lowly, and took a tiny step closer  “That’s not my fault though.”

“No?” Rush mocked gently.

“No,” Young replied simply, eyes staring into Rush’s impassively. 

A tiny shudder ran through Rush, and he leaned in toward Young.  “See?  I told you, you wanted another go.” 

Young froze, then stepped back with a deep laugh through his chest.  He pointed a finger at Rush, “You—“ He stopped, then just sighed.  “—Get dressed.”  

Rush smirked.  “You sure?”

“Don’t—“ he started.

“Alright, alright,” Rush placated swiftly, and moved toward his clothes.  He paused with his arms in his sleeves, looking pointedly at Young before pulling his shirts over his head.  “I’ve work to do anyway.”  He picked up his trousers, then dropped them to his sides with a sigh.  “There’s no underwear.”

Young, slipping on his uniform jacket, looked up, face full of exaggerated innocence. 

“Really?  Huh.”

Rush glared darkly, and stepped into his trousers.  “Fine,” he said, zipping up.  “If that’s how you want to play.”  He grabbed his belt.

“Who’s playing?” Young asked as Rush laced it through its loops. 

Pulling at the buckle, Rush looked up wryly.  “I’m just wondering if you’ve thought this through.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You were so determined a moment ago,” Rush said, picking up his shoes.  “But now, I’m going to be walking around this ship.  Sore.  Bruised.  And,” he clicked his tongue, smirking, and moved towards the exit.   “Without any underwear.  All day.”  He paused in front of the door.  “Good luck with that.”

Then he slammed the door control and stepped out into the hallway.

Chapter Text

“The planet’s habitable. The Gate seems to be buried pretty far underground, but we could send a team down in a shuttle.”

Rush leaned against the console slightly, only half-listening to the chatter in the Gate Room.

“Is there anything worth going down for?  Any trip with a shuttle is a risk.”

“Could be worth it.  Plenty of plant life, always might be good for medicinals.”

His arse clenched as he tried not to fidget.  He was still quite sore, and even the occasional brush of fabric from his trousers was proving to be somewhat—

“And, there’s lumber.”

Distracting. 

“Lumber?”

“Some of the crew have been using wood to make…y’know.  Things.  Cooking spoons, small pieces of furniture.  I think someone was working on a baseball bat.  It’s not exactly top priority stuff but—“

It wasn’t that the pain was too much for him.  It was quite the opposite problem.

“No, no, that’s good.  Little things can make all the difference.”

His cock twitched.

This was going to be a long day.

“What about the caves?”

“Naquadah deposits,” Rush chimed in.  “Could be useful.”

His only consolation, was that he wasn’t alone.

Young looked over at him as he spoke, face wary.

"Useful for what? I thought Destiny predated naquadah technology.  She's solar powered, right?"

Rush gave a half-sideways nod.  “Be that as it may, the gate is still composed almost entirely of naquadah.  We’d need to have supplies on hand to repair it, if anything happens.  And with stores of naquadah we could design our own staff weapons, solve the problem of running out of bullets."

Rush heard a sigh over his shoulder, and turned to find Lieutenant James gazing wistfully at nothing.  "Yeah, that…that would be nice.” 

Rush turned back with a slight roll of his eyes. 

“We could even create new power sources so we could keep the lights and the charging plates going when Destiny’s conserving energy between recharges.  There appear to be fairly concentrated deposits, we could mine for it while other supplies are being gathered.”

“Who’s this ‘we’ you’re talking about?” said Greer, dripping lazy condescension.

Rush sighed irritably.  “I was simply pointing out—“

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Young broke in.  Rush blinked.  “This seems to be one of our longer layovers,” Young explained, glancing toward the countdown clock.  “We should take advantage of it.  Get a team together,” he said to Greer.  “Bring in as much as you can.  Scott will pilot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Quick but careful,” he said, wrapping up.

“Aye aye, sir!”

‘Quick but careful’.  It was a fast growing mantra.

As people dispersed to their various duties, Rush flipped through his notebook busily, watching Young from the corner of his eye.  Camille had pulled him aside, handing him some files and speaking in that low, overly cordial way of hers.  Young was listening, but Rush could feel his divided attention. 

He hid it well, but Rush knew he noticed.  Every shift in hips, every suppressed wince, every time Rush ‘decided’ not to sit down, Young noticed.

Rush watched Young exit.  His finger tapped restlessly, counting out one minute, then two.  Then, deliberately unhurried, he left as well.  He wasn’t needed here, so it was natural for him to return to his work in the control interface room.

Of course, that wasn’t where he was going.

“More paperwork?” he asked conversationally, sauntering into Young’s quarters and shutting  the door behind him.

Young looked up and smirked wearily.  “Requests for shifts in personnel.  Camille asked me to sign off on them.”

Rush frowned.  “Couldn’t she handle that herself?”

“Probably,” Young replied, sighing.  “But I like to kept apprised.”

“Ahh,” Rush commented, wandering further into the room.  “So it’s really your own fault then.”

“As usual.”  Young eyed him.  “What are you doing here.” 

Rush smiled slyly.  “What do you think.”

Young chuckled lowly, leaning back on the sofa.  “You are a real piece of work.”

Rush shrugged.

“Your ass can’t take another pounding right now.  I know that for a fact.”

“So, do something else,” Rush replied flippantly.  “You didn’t seem to have a problem with that before.”

“Why are you pushing so hard for this?”  He sounded genuinely curious. 

Rush looked at him, and leaned forward.  “Because.  You want it.”

Young let out a sharp bark of a laugh.  “I want—“

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” Rush interrupted quickly.  “But…” He paused, licking his lips.

Young rose from the sofa, walking toward him.  “But what?”

Rush took a breath.  “You want to.  And, given our arrangement,” he glanced, hiding his unease.  “There’s really no reason to deny yourself…” he looked back up and trailed off.

Young stood just in front of him, eyes glittering, patient and impassive. 

“…Anything.”  He was oddly aware of his own tongue in his mouth as he spoke. 

“Mmm.”  Young lifted a hand and placed it under his chin.  He reached out with his thumb and ran it over Rush’s lower lip.  “Well.  Maybe it is time to try out this mouth of yours.” 

Rush blinked for a second, uncomprehending.  As he realized what he meant, he felt his head tilt away from Young’s grip.

Promptly, Young dropped his hand.  “Problem?” he asked, watching him intently.  His voice was even, kind—and Rush could tell it was a real question, that he was actually asking, and that just made it so much worse. 

“I…” he started, stumbling over his words and hating himself for it.  “I’m afraid you’d be…disappointed.”  Young’s eyebrows lifted.  “I just…I don’t have much experience.  With that.”  None, actually, he thought privately. 

Young’s eyes dropped, a soft smile playing at his lips.  “Are you saying,” he said, raising his eyes, mischief glinting in them.  “That you could use more practice?”

Rush laughed, something softening slightly in his chest.  “Something like that.  And I’m not sure you want to volunteer to be my training—ah, um…” he trailed off. 

“Well, it’s obvious you’re not gonna be practicing on anyone else,” Young said dryly.

Rush grinned softly, then tilted his head to one side.  “Actually…” he paused, peering at Young.  “It’s not.”

“Excuse me?” Young demanded darkly.

“Well, you actually haven’t said,” Rush baited, starting to enjoy himself again.  “You haven’t mentioned anything about me—“

“Well, I’m mentioning it now,” Young said flatly, unamused. 

“Alright,” Rush placated, chortling.  “Message received.  No need to get snippy.  Though you have to admit, it’s a bit hypocritical.”

Young’s brow furrowed.  “How’s that?”

Rush didn’t answer, just reached out his right hand and took Young’s left by the palm, lifting it.  Young looked, and Rush knew when he’d gotten it.  A low, self-deprecating laugh echoed in the room.  Rush let go of the hand, and the gold ring on its fourth finger, with a slight flourish.  “Not that it’s any of my business,” he ribbed lightly.

“Heh, yeah,” Young commented absently, twisting the ring around his finger.  “This, um,” Young slipped it off and Rush’s brow furrowed.  “Isn’t that accurate anymore.”  He held it awkwardly, then turned and walked away, opening the drawer to his nightstand and dropping it unceremoniously inside. 

Rush watched, confounded.  “I…didn’t realize.”

Young shrugged, and sat down on the bed.  “Things weren’t going well for a while, and she’s found someone else now.  I can’t really blame her, considering...anyway, it’s official.  Paperwork filed and everything.”  He smirked on ‘paperwork.’ 

Rush stood, quiet.  He’d never given Young’s personal life much thought.  Or anyone’s personal life, really.  He didn’t have any idea what to say. 

He walked over slowly.  When he came to stand in front of Young, he leaned over and put his hands on Young’s thighs.  They looked at each other, noses inches apart, and then Rush slid down to he knees between Young’s legs.

“Hey,” Young stammered, reaching out a hand.  “I wasn’t—”

“Sh,”  said Rush, cutting him off coolly. 

Young watched him from under hooded eyes.  “You sure?”

Rush made a little ‘eh’ expression.  “If you are.  Trust me, you’re taking the bigger risk.”

Young threw his head back, chortling.  “Relax.  It’s not an exam.”

Rush snorted, and went for Young’s belt.  He shivered slightly, trying not to fumble.  Now that he was here, at crotch level, opening Young’s trousers, he was nervous again.  This had been done to him, so he knew the basics—open wide, watch the teeth—but he had a feeling there was bit more to it than that. 

He pulled Young out carefully, letting him dangle free, and for a moment Rush just looked, breathing. Young wasn’t hard yet. 

“Hey.”  Rush looked up.  Young was leaned back on his hands, exuding calmness and warmth.  “Just take your time.”

Rush lowered his gaze gradually.  A beat later, he wrapped one hand around the shaft and brought it up to give the tip a long lick with the flat of his tongue.  He heard a deep breath from above him and he flicked his eyes up.  Young’s eyes had closed and his head had fallen back.  Rush smiled softly.  

He brought the tip of Young’s cock back to his mouth.  This time, he closed his lips over it and sucked.  He was rewarded with a low moan that only got louder and he slipped the tip of his tongue under the foreskin.  It was a bit salty, and noticeably musky, but mostly it just tasted like skin—sweat and flesh and the faintest touch of something chemical that probably meant Young had washed fairly recently.  He pressed with his tongue against the slit, then moved to explore the narrow ridge that ran along the underside, his natural exploration bringing the shaft deeper.  He started to rub slightly with his hand, running toward the root and then back again. 

That’s when he felt Young start to fill up.  He could feel it with his hand but, far more interestingly, was the feeling in his mouth.  Young’s flesh started to swell and Rush opened wider to accommodate it, straining to keep his teeth behind his lips.  The tip lay near the back of his tongue now and he laved at it, undulating rhythmically as he tried to take Young farther.  It was hard to say, but based on his hand he could estimate he was maybe halfway.  Maybe.  He didn’t just go straight down, of course.  He would pull back, though never completely off, then go back down, pressing with his lips along the shaft to create friction.    

He had no idea how he was doing really, but Young wasn’t complaining, and based on the little noises he could hear he must be doing alright. 

He hadn’t thought about how it would feel, to have a cock in his mouth, pulsing and hot and hard.  He’d always enjoyed doing down on Gloria, reaching into her, tasting her, surrounded by her scent.  In some ways, this was much the same.  He had to breathe through his nose and Young’s scent flooded his senses with each inhalation, and just the act of being between someone’s thighs with his face buried in them brought familiar feelings of intimacy. 

Then there were the other things.  The stretch in his jaw as he forced himself wider and wider, that was new.  The slide against his taut lips every time he managed to take down another half an inch.  The unfamiliar awareness of the nooks and valleys of his own mouth as it was filled up and packed full.  Sounds from his own throat being muffled, as though he were gagged.       

He whimpered.

Wisps of hair stuck to his face and he felt a drop of sweat slip down the back of his neck.  Young’s cock bobbed at the back of his throat, teasing at his gag reflex, and he didn’t know how he’d take it any farther.

“Hey, hey,” Young said, sounding raspy.  “That’s good, right there, don’t…” he placed his right palm to Rush’s temple.  “Don’t push, ok?  Just…”

He trailed off.  Rush pulled back, following Young’s consultation, to where it was more comfortable, something like regret pitted in his stomach.  Young was being kind again, he knew, but it just felt like failure.  He dropped his eyes and focused on what he could do, sliding and sucking down as much of Young’s cock as he could handle.  He rubbed the rest with one hand, and when he dared to raise the other to brush softly against the balls tightening in the folds Young’ clothing he got a deep, satisfied groan for his trouble.

It wasn’t long that the first drops of pre-cum dribbled into his mouth.  Maybe it was some kind of instinct, maybe his recent acclimation to the taste had trained him to it, but as he felt Young’s cock again at the back of his throat and the sticky substance filling and threatening to drip from his already full mouth, he didn’t even think.  He swallowed.

Several things happened all at once, or at least very close to it.

Young’s cock went straight down his throat, Rush nearly plunging down the length of it, and Young’s hips snapped forward, a tiny but very discernable instinctual reaction, unintentionally but ruthlessly choking him.  Rush thought he could hear a startled shit over his own piteous wheezing as they both hurried to push Rush up and off.  Rush immediately fell over to the side, gagging and gasping on all fours into the floor.

“Jesus.”  Young rubbed an agitated hand up and down Rush’s back.  “Are you ok?”

Rush panted, finally catching his breath.  Blinking stupidly, he lifted the back of one hand to wipe his mouth.

So.  That’s how you do that. 

He sat up slowly, turning back towards Young. 

“Rush?”

Back on his knees, he reached for Young with a bowed head and open mouth.

“Whoa!”  Young pushed out a hand, stopping Rush sharply at the collarbone.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on.”

Rush glanced up.  “I can do it now.”

For a moment, Young just stared at this blank statement.  “…What?”

Rush could hear the, are you insane?, under that one word.  He took a breath, sat up straighter, and made another grab for Young’s dick.  Young didn’t quite manage to stop him his time, and Rush simply held him in his hand a moment. 

Still hard, he noted smugly.

He leaned forward.  “I’ve figured it out,” he said in low, crisp tones. 

Young growled, not encouragingly. 

“Come on,” Rush coaxed softly, beckoning with his eyes.  Young didn’t move.  Eyes flickered down and back up again.  “Please.”

Slowly, Young’s face softened, though he still looked skeptical.  Rush smirked back and Young sat up, lifting the hand at his chest to thread through his hair. 

Rush breathed deep, in, then out, and lowered himself.  The hand in his hair stayed, not guiding, just resting, but the weight made his skin tingle.  This time, he knew what he was doing.  He knew just when to take breaths as he worked down the length of Young’s cock, and when he felt the tip tickling discomfitingly at the back of his tongue, he steadied himself, swallowed, and felt his throat open up to the intrusion. 

He took a moment to just rest there and revel in the fierce hardness that had so easily choked him only minutes before, now sitting, if not comfortably, somewhat as though it belonged there.  He heard a low gasp, and then a hand was placed carefully over his throat.  Feeling the bulge there, he realized. 

Fuck. 

A warm shiver lighted through him and he began to feel the first prickling of arousal between his own legs. 

Move.  He needed to move. 

Bracing his hands on Young’s knees, he slid his lips up over the length of Young’s cock, then back down, again, and then again.  He couldn’t go very fast, but his did his best to keep steady friction, lapping with his tongue and adding suction where he could.  Young’s hand fisted in his hair, which he took as a good sign. 

His jaw was aching and his lips were staring to buzz in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable, but he didn’t waver.  There were some continued stirrings in his groin, but mostly he just felt tired. 

Young seemed to be enjoying himself though.  Rush lifted his eyes to see Young had his eyes closed, his mouth open and panting, making the shapes of words he couldn’t quite make out.  Both hands had threaded through his hair at this point, moving with him as he slid back and forth, back and forth, between his thighs.  He had started out somewhat reclined, but now Young sat forward, taut with constrained energy. 

It was out of this state that Young, perhaps impatient with Rush’s pacing, undulated forward and slid his cock in down to the root. 

He was already kneeling on the floor, but Rush still felt his knees buckle.

“Sorry, sorry,” he heard Young murmur, as he began to withdraw and, desperate, Rush gripped his shirt at the waist, pulling him back in, because that was…that had been...

Fuck. 

They both froze like that a moment, Rush buried in Young’s crotch, breathing deeply.  Then, Young brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over Rush’s face, gliding a thumb over the curve of his brow. 

God, what I must look like, stuffed with your cock, Rush thought despairingly, but he roused his courage and looking up.  He locked gazes with Young, trying to convey what he meant, what he needed.

How do you say ‘fuck my mouth’ with your eyes? 

Somehow though, one way or another, Young seemed to understand, because he held Rush in a firm grip, and then planted his feet and stood.  Now, Young towered over him and Rush found he had to scramble some, adjusting to their new position. Young tightened the fists in Rush’s hair, using them first to tilt Rush to the exact angle his wanted and then pull him back till just the tip of his cock was down his throat.  Rush gazed up, eyes blown wide, clutching at the legs of Young’s trousers, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. 

The first time Young sank into him Rush’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head.  God, it was good—the relentless fullness, the pulsing heat.  And the feel of flesh gliding between his lips, his stretched, abused lips, was completely different when was being done to him.   

His chest tightened and his throat constricted around its invader, making him keen and whimper helplessly, the harsh grip on his hair a constant reminder of exactly how helpless he was.

Fuck, he was hard. 

Slowly, he reached for the front of Young’s uniform, pulling at the cloth in pathetically weak attempts to get his attention. 

Young noticed quickly however, brow furrowing in some unreadable expression, before loosening his fingers and beginning to pull away.  Rush hurried to stop him, clutching at Young’s shirt tight with one hand and pushing his hands back into his hair with the other.  Young looked down with the same expression as Rush pleaded silently.  He must look pathetic like this, red-faced and teary-eyed.

When he was certain Young wouldn’t try to leave again, he slowly, deliberately, brought his hand down between his spread knees.  He rubbed at the inside of his thigh, which was excruciating, begging.

Please, please, please, I need—

Young’s face barely moved, but Rush thought he could see when he understood.  His guess was confirmed moments later when Young pressed a foot into Rush’s groin.  Rush didn’t know if Young could feel his swollen cock, what with his military issue boots on, but Rush’s tortured response was no doubt all the confirmation he needed.

He smirked.

Damn him.

“Take it out.”

Rush wheezed, sniveling with gratitude, and stumbled to do as he was told.  With his sweaty palms and the tremoring fingers it took far, far too long, but he finally managed to undo his trousers, pulling at his confined cock till it was free.

“Hands on your thighs.”

He whined brokenly, but complied, pressing his palms along his legs.  His stiff member hung out from his pants, bobbing mournfully in the air.

He thought he might cry.

“How hard are you right now?”

Rush squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clenching.

“Tell me, Rush,” Young spoke, mocking, as he ran his thumbs down Rush’s face, over his eyes, down to trace the corners of his cock-stretched mouth.  “Does having my cock down your throat make you as hard as it makes me?” 

Rush whimpered.   

“Go on.  Touch yourself.”  Rush didn’t have to be told twice.  “What’s your assessment,” and still holding his face, Young started to slide back and forth into Rush mouth again, slow and unrelenting.  “You know.  As a scientist.  Which cock is harder?  The one in your hands, or the one your mouth?”

Rush’s throat started working, gasping with a desperate futility.  He didn’t have an answer though.  He thought he might be trying to scream. 

Young continued his smooth ravagement of Rush’s mouth, in and out, in and out.  Rush’s hands worked much more fervid and uneven, rubbing and pulling at himself with a harsh desperation, which more than once veered into pain. 

“Rush.”  He blinked, sweat falling in his eyes.  “Look at me.”

He gazed up dutifully,  finding Young gazing down at him.  A few tortured breaths, and they locked eyes.

And then Young was coming down his throat and Rush was swallowing, swallowing, swallowing, because he had to, because if he stopped he’d choke and drown on cum.

His eyes rolled back in his head, jaw slack, as he let Young disengage his softening cock from his blistered lips.

“Keep touching yourself,” Young ordered, gruff and breathless.  “I wanna see you get off to me coming in your mouth.” 

Rush gasped deeply, eyes closed, head tilted back, and did as he was told.  He panted into the air as his hips started to quake.  Young’s hands still held him by the sides of his face, not tightly, but still constraining any movements to hide away.  Rush’s tongue darted out between his open lips, and licked at the corner of his mouth, and Rush heard a deep groan from Young, and then he was coming, not just to climax, but completely undone. 

When he was spent, Young let him fall forward slightly, cupping the back of his head as it rested against his knees. 

Quietly, Rush pushed himself back on his heels, blinking his eyes open to regain his bearings.  As he glanced down, he saw that some of his cum had spattered across Young’s shiny black boots.

To bend over and lick them clean, was the most natural thing in the world.

His hands came to rest lightly along the ankles, tremulous and worshipful.  And he didn’t just wash them, he kissed them, open mouthed devotion caressing every taste of cum and leather. 

When he was done, he raised himself deferentially, eyes cast downwards, arms falling docilely to his sides.  Young right arm lifted, and rested a warm palm just where the brow met temple. 

There was a moment, quiet but somehow full, and then Rush felt as Young inhaled, to speak or something else, Rush didn’t know. 

Crackle

“James to Young, we have a situation down here.”

A heartbeat, and then Young was gone, stumbling to his radio, leaving only a gust of air.  Rush blinked at the bed that now sat judgmentally before him, then turned his head to follow Young.

“Young here, what’s going on.” He spoke quickly, and placed the radio back down to do up his trousers.  Rush hurried to do the same, eyes dropping to give the task their full attention, while his hands worked awkwardly in the air a moment, seemingly at a loss.  He furrowed his brow and finally managed to get his fingers to work as he needed them.  

“There’s been a…complication with the team on the planet.”  Of course there had.  “And…have you seen Doctor Rush?”

“He’s—“  Young broke off, clicking his thumb off the transmitter.  He closed his eyes, taking a breath.  Click.  “Have you tried his radio?” 

Crackle crackle.

“Eli to Rush, where are you?”  Rush closed his eyes.  Sighing deeply, he brought his radio up and clicked it on. 

“Rush here.  Is there a problem?” 

“Uh, yeah, kinda, so, where are you?”

“Why don’t you tell me where you are, and I’ll come there.”

“Eli’s calling him now.”

Rush head snapped up, halfway between panicked and exasperated at the overlapping conversations.  He and Young shared a look. 

“Control Interface, but we’re headed for the Gate Room—”

“I’ll meet you there,” Rush managed to get out, blinking over and over. 

Young was continuing to speak to James on the radio.  Rush gazed around, lost. 

“Rush.”  His eyes locked on Young.  “Come on, we have to go.” 

Rush was still on the floor.  He put one hand on the bed, and stood, somewhat unsteadily.  Young was checking himself over, making sure he was presentable.  Rush went through the motions of doing the same, but couldn’t really process anything, couldn’t focus. 

Then, Young was inches away, holding his chin in one hand.  He looked over Rush’s face, scrutinizing.  Rush let him. 

He nodded, seeming satisfied, and moved to the door.  He stuck his head out, checking the hall. 

“Coast is clear,” he said over his shoulder.  Rush followed after him.

“Should we…” Rush started, then trailed off.  There was something, he just…

“They’ll just think we met on the way,” Young said under his breath, and they walked quickly through the halls, half together, Rush some paces behind.

They entered the Gate Room.  Immediately, Rush could hear chatter, from James, other soldiers, the science team.  Rush could hear them, but couldn’t seem to catch any of the words.  He ran a hand over his face and shook his head, trying to clear it. 

“Can we dig them out?”

Rush zeroed in on Young’s voice, and used it as a tether to follow the rest of the discussion. 

“I don’t know,” James sighed.  “They’re down pretty deep.  We can send the other shuttle for the surface team, but…”

“That doesn’t help the team in the caves,” Young finished for her.  “And, we’d have to leave one shuttle behind since Scott is down there with them.  Okay.  Ideas?”  He turned to the science team. 

“Well, um, okay,” Eli started.  “So, dialing the gate on the planet wasn’t working, because it’s buried deep underground and seemed pretty out of commission—”

“We know that,” Young interrupted irritably.

“Right!  But, okay, so, but now that they’re down there, they might be able to dial out.”

“How is that helpful?” asked James.  “It’s still buried where no one can get to it.”

“It’s buried under the caves,” Eli explained excitedly.  “And the outgoing wormhole might bore upwards, creating, like, a tunnel.  Then they can just…jump in.  Or…propel down, is probably a better idea—”

“We’d still lose a shuttle,” Park chimed in.  “But…”

“The people are the priority,” Young said firmly. 

“We’re working on the math now, it’s a little tricky,” explained Eli. “We've configured the sensors to give us this map of the cave complex,” Rush wandered over, pulling out his notepad.  “As you can see, there’s a tunnel that passes mostly above the buried gate.  Normally the size of the 'whoosh' wouldn’t quite reach, but with the correct power flow we might be able to induce a coriolis effect, the flare would spin, lengthening it— should be just enough to connect.  It might take us a bit to work out the figures, but it should still leave plenty of time to…”

Rush ripped a piece of paper from his notepad, and handed it, wordlessly, to Eli.  Eli took it automatically, and looked over it.  “…Or, we could just use this,” he said blandly.  “I need to double check it, but…” he glanced at Rush.  “That was fast.”  Rush blinked, shrugging.  Eli’s brow furrowed. 

“Okay, you get that up and running,” Young directed.  “I’ll head to the shuttle now, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on!”  Brody interrupted Young.  “We can’t—” he looked over the rest of the team.  “We’re not even gonna talk about this?” 

“Talk about what?” Young growled, barely sounding like a question. 

There was a pause. 

“This is the best chance we have of getting everybody back before our time runs out,” Park said quietly. 

“But,” Brody cut in.  “There’s a chance that it could destabilize the cave-system.  Even with precise calculations,” he said, with a nod to Rush.  “That could send huge pieces of rock and mineral through the Gate.  Naquadah and its derivatives.  That gate's been under there thousands of years, under unknown amounts of geological pressure, leaking power.  There is a greater than zero possibility it could have created veins of naquadria.  Chunks of naquadria, charged with gate energy.  Falling through the gate.”

“If that happened,” Eli admitted, a bit reluctantly.  “It…could cause an explosion.”

“How big of an explosion?” Young pressed, mouth tight. 

“That…sort of depends on how much naquedria falls through,” said Eli hesitantly.  “Potentially…”

“It could take out the ship,” said Brody flatly. 

The room went silent. 

“What are the chances of that happening?” asked Young quietly. 

“It’s…hard to say.” Brody answered.  “We just don’t have enough variables to know for sure.  Anything we said would be mostly a guess.  “Not…high, probably, especially if we get the exact energy calculations right the first time.  But whatever we do, it’ll be a possibility.” 

Everyone went quiet again. 

“Do it,” Young said after a minute. 

“Wait, what?” Brody exclaimed, but people were already jumping into action. 

“We don't know there's naquadria present - that's a guess, a maybe.  We’re not leaving people down there for something that might happen,” Young said firmly.  “This is the only plan we have.” 

“Because we haven’t thought of another one!” Brody threw back.  “We just…jumped on this, cause it’s easy, and quick, but if we took some more time—”

“We don’t have much time,” Young said pointedly.

“We have some!” Brody argued.  “And even if—” he broke off, eyes locking on Rush.  “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Rush blinked.  “I…” Suddenly, all eyes were on him. 

“…Are you okay?”  He turned, and found Dr. Park looking at him, vaguely concerned.  “You’ve been sort of…quiet.”

“I…” Rush said again, helplessly.  “…Headache.”  He put a hand to his temple.  “Sort of…hard to think.” 

“Except, apparently, about math,” Eli muttered, half under his breath.  Rush felt his face begin to flush, and clenched his jaw. 

“I mean,” Brody went on, exasperated.  “This could put the whole ship at risk.  For six people.  I hate to be the one to say it, but…” he trailed off. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have to say it, Rush thought.  Looking around at the faces in the room, he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one. 

“What are our other options?” Young asked quietly. 

There was another long silence. 

“Look, just…” Brody turned to Young, pleading.  “Give us a little more time.  Just a little.” 

There was a pause. 

“Okay.” 

Brody let out a sigh of relief.  A second later, the team was brainstorming. 

Young approached Rush, managing to startle him even though he’d seen him coming. 

“Maybe you should head back to your room for a bit.  Till you feel better.” 

His head started to nod, but he jerked it aside, clenching one fist. 

“No, no I…I need to be here,” he whispered.  Why was this so hard? 

“Maybe he’s right.”  Rush looked up, and found Eli looking at him, not unkindly.  “You seem kind of...out of it.  Don’t worry, we’ll call you if we need any more super speedy equation solving.”  He smiled. 

Rush dropped his eyes.  After a moment, he nodded and, without looking at anyone, left. 

He went to his quarters.  He lay down on the bed and stared straight up at the ceiling.  He didn’t sleep, or move, or even really think.  He didn’t know how long he stayed like that.  He felt…not dizzy exactly, but…

He breathed evenly, in and out, and eventually his mind began to clear.  He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes.  He felt utterly disgusted with himself. 

Some time later, he felt the jump back into FTL. 

Chapter Text

Rush heard his door open and quickly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.  Young entered, closed the door, and clasped his hands behind his back.  For a moment, they just looked at each other.

“Are you…?” Young asked hesitantly.

“Better.” Rush replied.  They fell quiet again.  “Is…is everything…?” Rush asked after a moment. 

“Fine,” was Young’s prompt response.  “They came up with something else.  Shorter bursts of energy from the gate to minimize any chance of destabilization.  Brody came up with this…pulley system, so they could raise the gate a bit at a time and burrow their way to the surface.  It was cutting it a little close, but Scott was able to fly everyone back before we hit FTL.  We even got to keep the shuttle.”  There was a pause.  “It was a better plan,” he said ruefully. 

Rush nodded, biting his lip.  He stared at Young meaningfully. 

“That can’t happen again,” he said, with firm emphases.

“I agree,” said Young.

“I know you pr—” he broke off, Young’s words just catching up with him.  “You agree?”

“Yes,” Young said, resolute. 

Rush blinked, boggled.  For some reason he’d thought…he shook his head a bit, then nodded.  “Well…good.  Then.” 

Young nodded back.  “So, since we’re agreed,” he began cautiously.  “Can we talk about what happened….exactly?” 

Rush’s jaw clenched, and he glanced away.  He shrugged. 

“Is it…” Young started again after a minute.  “It…it was because…of us, what we did.”  His tone went up at the end, making it sound like a question.  Rush swallowed, and nodded.  “So...what happened?” Young asked, with constrained agitation.  “What was different?” 

Rush’s brow furrowed, and he looked up.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Young said, gesturing vaguely.  “Why now?  Why not…before?  What made it happen this time and not…not any of the other times we’ve…” he trailed off, eyes looking at Rush with a questioning urgency. 

Rush looked away. 

“It…has,” he answered quietly.  He looked up again, meeting Young’s gaze.  “It has happened before.” 

Rush watched as Young processed this, before sighing and looking away again. 

“So…so what—?” Young questioned, confused. 

“I’ve usually come out of it,” Rush said, cutting him off.  “Sooner, or…or had time to…” he sighed again.  “Had more time.” 

Young nodded, looking thoughtful.  He opened his hands, palm up.  “How do we…stop it from happening again?”  He asked it as though they were discussing rationing, or a problem with personnel.  Rush just stared at him, feeling caught. 

“I…” he started, voice tight.  “I’m not sure that’s…that that’s…” he swallowed, and forced himself to speak.  “don’t want to…stop it from happening.”  He was practically whispering.  “It’s not…it doesn’t feel…”  He tried to emphasize the right words, to make him understand.  “It’s not…bad.” 

Young was listening at least, his head cocked to one side as he took it in.  He looked at Rush carefully and, after some kind of internal debate, came and sat beside him.  Rush looked down at his own hands twisting in his lap.  He could feel Young’s eyes on him. 

“Can you…tell me?  What…what…” he seemed to run out of words. 

Rush shrugged, not sure quite how to answer.  “It’s sort of like this…state,” he said, not looking up.  “Everything gets sort of…simple.”  He sighed after that, giving up. 

“Mm,” Young said, not very helpfully.  Then, after a moment, “Well, for the short term, I’d say we shouldn’t have any more 'nooners', for a while.”

Rush let out a little snort of laughter.  “Yeah.  S’pose not.” 

“But,” Young said carefully.  “We can’t be sure, whatever time, that…there won’t be…”

“I know,” Rush said, hushed. 

I’m sorry, he thought.  But he couldn’t say that.  

“We need to find a way for you to…transition more easily.  More…consistently.”  Rush didn’t respond.  “We’ll work on it,” Young said firmly after a minute.  Rush’s lip quirked despite himself.  “For now though, if you could let me know when…when it happens.”  It was halfway to being a question. 

Rush picked at his nails.  “I’ll try.” 

Young took a breath and breathed it out, standing.  “Well, I should probably go.  Are you…going to get some rest?  It’s gotten late.”

Rush thought about it.  It didn’t sound appealing. 

“I’ll probably try and get some work done.  Seeing as I’ve been more or less completely useless today.” 

Young looked at him seriously.  “I think you should try and sleep.”

Rush smirked at that.  “What are you going to do if I don’t?”  He was going for teasing, but Young didn’t seem to take the joke, face impassive.  Rush looked away again, feeling pathetic.  “What about you?  You headed to bed?”

Young sighed.  “I should,” he said, rubbing his brow.  “Just…not sure if I—” he sighed out again. 

I know the feeling, Rush thought to himself, voices already clamoring at the back of his head. 

“You could stay,” Rush said, almost before he’d realized it.

Young looked wary.  “I’m not sure…”

“I didn’t mean—” Rush cut him off, falling silent again almost as quickly as he’d spoken.  “I just meant,” he said, more subdued this time.  “You could…stay.” 

There was a long silence in which Rush felt an utter fool, and then Young was moving towards him.  He leaned down and took hold of the hems of Rush’s shirts, pulling up.  Rush lifted his arms accommodatingly, letting Young bare him from the waist up.  Next, hands were at his belt, unbuckling it.  Young popped the button of Rush’s trousers, and then pulled on the zipper.  Rush was abruptly reminded that he was still wearing nothing underneath as Young’s fingers spread the opening of his trousers, leaving him immediately exposed. 

Young shifted the fabric down and Rush leaned back on his arms and lifted his hips.  Young dragged his trousers along his legs, each inch leaving him more and more naked, till he reached his ankles. Then Young knelt down and removed his shoes and socks before taking them all the way off. 

Rush was left reclined on the bed, held up on his elbows, completely naked.  It was hardly the first time he’d been so in Young’s presence by now, but this was different.  There was no harsh charge of arousal to cloud the senses.  Now, there was no use for his nakedness, and it felt painfully, sensuously, intimate. 

Young, still clothed, stood and looked him over freely.  Rush was as aware of his gaze as ever, and while he still didn’t find his sexual desires ignited in this moment, it was nonetheless pleasurable, as well as pricklingly unnerving.  He wasn’t sure what Young could want of him, but he found himself subtly shifting anyway, as though trying to succeed somehow at being watched.  His eyelids flickered in a way even he recognized as demure, one shin rubbing lightly against the other as he wriggled slightly on his seat, fingers fidgeting against his sides.  Young viewed him like art in a gallery, and never said a word.

Slowly, Young began to undress himself.  Piece by piece his uniform disappeared until he was in nothing but boxers and an undershirt.  Those he didn’t remove, and Rush was glad.  Whether it was because that would have been even more dauntingly intimate, or because his unbalanced vulnerability brought him an uncomfortable level of enjoyment, was a question he preferred not to answer. 

Young was then pulling at the covers and Rush maneuvered underneath them, sliding not quite smoothly to the far side of the bed.  Young followed after, lying back against the pillows.  He turned his head to look at Rush.  Rush very much did not meet his gaze. 

A moment passed, and then Young reached over with his right hand and placed it, palm down, on Rush’s stomach.  Rush was suddenly strikingly aware of his breathing, as Young’s hand moved up and down with each rise and fall of his ribs.  The hand slipped further around his waist, and pulled, urging him to turn on his side.  He complied, still evading Young’s eyes with his own, although they now faced each other.  Young inched closer, positioning his arm securely at Rush’s back. 

All at once, Young twisted, slipping his other arm under Rush, and Rush was heaved up and over till he was straddled across Young and they were chest to chest.  He tensed at first, startled, but was astonished to find how quickly he relaxed.  He laid his cheek on Young’s shoulder, and closed his eyes.  He let his arms and legs mold along Young’s sides, and actually relished the feel of Young’s arms wrapped tightly around him.  Young’s abdomen pressed up against Rush as he breathed, and soon they almost seemed to be in tandem. 

With each breath, the clamoring voices in his mind seemed to be drawn from him and into the body underneath, until everything was blessedly quiet.  His sleep, as far as he could remember, was dreamless. 

His alarm went off and he blinked awake.  He was not confused or disoriented.  Young’s heartbeat in his ear, the warm flesh underneath him—he didn’t find it the least bit startling.  Even the undeniably tangible feeling of a hardened cock between his legs that wasn’t his, did not seem cause for alarm. 

He lifted his head and found Young just starting to wake as well.  Young shifted pleasantly underneath him, and lifted one hand to stifle a yawn, before gazing at him blearily. 

“Good morning,” he said, voice deep and gruff with sleep. 

Rush tilted his head.  “Mm.” 

Young raised an eyebrow at him.  “What, they don’t say good morning where you’re from?” 

Rush gave him a look, but didn’t grace him with a response.  Young chuckled, then coughed lightly. 

“Um, sorry about…” he shifted awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” Rush smiled, shaking his head in a manner that was almost good-natured.  He glanced down, bringing his hands up to rest on Young’s chest under his chin, then peered back up.  “Should I…?”  He left the question deliberately unfinished. 

Young’s face, and whole body, seemed to go quiet. 

“Is that…I mean, would you want to do that?” he asked carefully.

“Well, I offered, didn’t I?” Rush retorted. 

Young squinted at him.  “I suppose.  I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Oh, but that’s half the fun,” Rush smirked. 

Young gave him an odd sideways look, opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“Do you think we have time?  For…” he trailed off, clearly unsure what he should be describing. 

“It should be fine,” Rush said, mutedly.  “I…” should be fine.  But he couldn’t say that.  In fact, he couldn’t even know that.  He looked away, unable to meet Young’s gaze anymore. 

A rustle of fabric, and Young rolled them over.  Rush moaned softly at Young’s solid presence between his legs, the weight of him pressing down.  Young took his hands and placed them over his head against the bed, squeezing pointedly before letting them go.  Rush stayed as he was put, even when Young sat up on his knees, leaving him bare and cold in the open air. 

Young gazed down on him and pushed his knees open a bit wider.  Rush gazed back, amazed at how erotic it felt just to lie here, his feet planted, legs bent at the knee and spread, arms arranged passively over his head. 

Young loomed over him, and as he freed himself from his boxer shorts, he actually smirked. 

“Now, just relax and don’t you do a thing,” he said, mockingly assuring.  “Let me do all the work.”  He began stroking in smooth motions, groaning, as he looked down brazenly over Rush and his exposed body. 

Rush bit his lower lip and made fists with his hands, his own moan vibrating in his throat as tingling pleasure darted across and through him.  His eyes fell closed, then opened a sliver, then closed again, half-blinking in the near darkness.  He rippled against the sheets, hips swerving in indistinct motions as he stretched first one set of muscles and then another.  He reveledin Young’s perusal, in his flagrant application of it as he pleasured himself to Rush’s prone form. 

It was like he was a centerfold, Rush reflected, a glossy photograph in some dirty magazine Young was jacking off to.  He undulated, back arching with sensual gratification, pulsing his hips into the air.  His cock remained soft and unaroused, but it didn’t matter.  This still felt—his tongue licked greedily over his lips—delicious.    

“I thought I told you not to do anything,” Young scolded, though there was no real bite to it. 

“I’m not,” Rush protested, pouting with exaggerated petulance, before his face split into a wide grin. 

Young chuckled.  “Brat.”  Rush’s smile didn’t flag.  Young’s eyes darkened, glinting mischievously, and he leaned forward, one hand still working over his cock.  He tilted his head, peering at Rush.  “Where do you want me to come on you?” he asked, almost casually. 

Rush blinked, not quite sure if should still be smiling or not.  “What?” 

Young stared him down, a sly smile playing on his lips.  “You’re gonna get a hot load on you one way or the other, so.  Where do you want it?” 

Rush’s smile began to fade, but that was only because he had to swallow as his mouth went dry, and real, pointed, arousal started to fill up his cock. 

Young put his left hand flat over Rush’s abdomen.  “Here, on your stomach?”  He leaned over, sliding his hand between his pecks.  “Or up here, on your chest.  Get it on your nipples.”  Rush let out a shuddering breath.  Young leaned back on his heels, looking down on him with haughty assuredness.  “Maybe I should move up there and come in your face.  Or,” he went on, voice dropping in pitch.  “I could come all over this cock that’s getting all nice and hard.  That sound like a good idea?  Hot cum all over your hard cock?”  Rush inhaled hard through his nose, head tilting back against the bed as he squirmed, toes curling and flexing into the sheets. 

Young put a light finger on his knee.  “Though maybe I should push up your legs and come on your ass.  That’s probably what you’d like best.”  Rush whined in the back of throat.  He was really fucking hard now.  “No, no, what you’d like best,” Young drawled, taking a firmer grip on his leg.  “Is if I came straight on your hole.  Get all that hot spunk dripping down your crack.”  Rush’s pelvis snapped into the air, buttocks clenching painfully.  “Think it would sting?” Young wondered idly.  “If I did that?  You still sore from how I fucked you?”  Rush whimpered, throwing his head back and forth against the bed in some kind of answer, though he didn’t know what. 

“I’m not gonna do that though,” Young said, settling.  “You know why?”  Rush gazed up at him, eyes wide.  Young smirked darkly.  “I don’t feel like being that nice to you.” 

Rush’s mouth opened wide in a deep, gasping breath, and his eyes slammed shut.  His nails cut into his palms, a steadying pain he was grateful for.  Young was grunting and Rush flinched at each muffled sound, anticipation curling up his spine. 

The first drops of body-heated issuance landed just over his lower rib, and then he was being sprayed, coated, from belly to sternum.  His eyes opened just a sliver and he caught Young squeezing the last beads of cum from his cock, letting them fall wetly on the soft skin just over his right hip.  His eyes rolled up in his head, and he focused on just breathing. 

Then, a warm hand was running over him, scooping up the mess covering his naked skin in long, even movements, and Rush had barely time to appreciate it before another hand pushed his knee up towards his chest and the first hand was smearing sticky ooze between his arse-cheeks, up over his bollocks, and squeezing his cock, and then he was coming and coming and coming all over his already stained chest and stomach. 

When he came to, Young was peering at him from between his legs, massaging leisurely over his softening cock.  Rush shivered, aftershocks of his orgasm bleeding into tiny sparks of fresh arousal.  Young let go of his cock with the same casual authority as he’d held it, and placed a hand over each of his spread knees. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked evenly. 

Rush stretched against the bed, rolling his shoulders a bit and groaning.  “Sticky.”

Young’s lips quirked.  He got up off the bed, found a clean washcloth about Rush’s quarters and tossed it at him.  Rush caught it midair, and started wiping the worst of the mess, trying not to linger on his still tingling skin. 

Young was dressing, pulling on his clothes in sure, even movements.  He stretched, yawning.  “What time is it?”

Rush glanced towards his mobile, but didn’t bother reaching for it.  “My alarm went off at three, can’t be too much later.”

Young paused mid-motion.  “You set your alarm for three in the morning?” 

“Usually,” Rush said inattentively, rolling off the bed to find his underwear (Aha!) and trousers. 

“You’re usually up till at least three in the morning,” Young said, incredulous.

“I have several alarms,” Rush replied condescendingly.  “This is merely the first.” 

Young rolled his eyes, buttoning his jacket.  “Well, I’m going back to my room.  Maybe I can catch a few more hours,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and yawned. 

Rush smirked.  “You know what they say about the early bird,” he lilted mockingly.

“That they should be avoided at all costs,” Young replied flatly, glaring.

Rush just smirked again, buttoning his trousers and reaching for his shirts.  “Only if you’re a worm,” he teased. 

“Yes, worm, sounds much better.”  Young was fixing his cuffs.  “Live underground, sleep in.  No annoying chirping.” 

Rush snorted, smothering a laugh, and tucked in his shirt.  Young was moving to the door.

“Here, let me check the hall,” Rush offered, slipping passed him. 

“No one sane is wandering the halls at this hour,” Young declared, but nonetheless stepped back as Rush opened the door and poked his head out.  Rush didn’t reply, but thrust a hand back to make a rude gesture behind him.  “You’re all clear,” he said quietly, pulling back inside. 

There was a moment where they just looked at each other, somehow both uneasy and…not.  Then, Young moved and, with one last look at Rush, slipped past him into the hall.  Rush waited a few minutes, then followed after, making his way to the showers. 

The rest of the team trailed in a few hours after Rush had already been working. 

“Good morning,” Brody said to him.

“Morning,” Rush replied, not looking up. 

Awkward silence. 

Brody started to shuffle over to a console.  Rush’s fingers clenched. 

“I heard you came up with a solution to yesterday’s predicament,” he said, glancing over. 

Brody looked up at him.  When Rush didn’t follow that statement up with anything, he sort of nodded. 

“Um, yeah.  Well, we…we all worked on…” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. 

Rush nodded, eyes dropping. 

“You seem…better,” Eli gave a slight smile.  Rush didn’t quite glare back. 

“Yes.  I…I just needed some rest,” he muttered, looking back to his work. 

“Guess those twenty hour work days aren’t actually the best plan after all, huh?” Eli joked.  Rush shot him a look, brow furrowing.  Eli swallowed.  “I…just meant, you know.  You gotta…take care of yourself.”  He swallowed again, head ducking. 

Rush watched him for a minute, quiet. 

“Yes,” he said evenly.  “I suppose…I suppose you’re right.”  His voice lowered.  “We can’t afford to have off days, out here.” 

The discussion effectively ended, and soon everyone was deeply engaged in whatever they were working on, but the tension in the room seemed to have eased. 

Rush checked the time, and rubbed a hand over his face.  He was alone, the rest of the team having already called it a day.  After a long pause, he flipped his notebook closed and put it in his pocket. 

He was walking down the hall to his room when he suddenly slowed, hesitating.  Another second, and he started moving again, this time with a slightly different destination. 

His hand hovered briefly over the door control, then he hit it and stepped inside. 

Young was hunched over something, sitting on the sofa, but he looked up at Rush’s entrance.  Rush shut the door. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be up,” Rush said after a moment. 

Young smirked, and sat back. 

“Strip.” 

Rush snorted.  “Of course,” he said, giving a smirk of his own as he pulled at his shirts and toed off his shoes.

Young raised an eyebrow.  “There something you wanna say?”

Rush undid his belt, shrugging.  “Just…you like me naked.” 

Young looked at him blankly.  “Am I supposed to respond to that?”

Rush chuckled softly and pulled off his trousers, along with his socks.  “I’m just wondering what you get out of it.”  He tugged at the waist of his underwear, and brought them down his legs. 

“Isn’t that kind of obvious?” Young drawled. 

Rush stepped out of his shorts.  “I mean,” he pressed, and moved toward Young.  He put his hands on the man’s shoulders, placing his knees on either side of Young on the sofa.  “What exactly?”

Young tilted his head, looking up at impassively.  “It must make you feel…” Rush trailed off, almost leading.  “…Powerful?”  He searched Young’s eyes.  “Commanding?  Maybe having me exposed right off works as some sort of symbol of—”

Young let out a dry laugh.  Rush pulled back, oddly offended. 

“I think you’re over thinking it,” Young said after a moment. 

Rush’s eyebrows twitched, somewhere between confused and indignant. 

Young tilted his chin up, inhaling, and brought his hands to Rush’s hips.  “You were right the first time.”  He paused for effect.  “I like you naked.” 

Rush’s eyes flickered quizzically. 

“I like you naked,” Young went on, speaking slowly, a smile playing at his lips.  “Because then I get to look at you.  Naked.” 

He said it like it was completely simple, and it sounded simple, but…Rush couldn’t help but still feel confused. 

“I mean, come on,” Young said with a low chuckle.  “There must have been times when you…” he trailed off.  He looked at Rush, sighing.  “There’ve been people, people I was with, who…if I could have seen them without any clothes on whenever I wanted, I…definitely would have done that.”  He grinned.  “And now I can.” 

That…was not as clarifying as if probably should be.  There was a long silence, and then Young took hold of Rush’s thighs, and stood.  Hardly thinking, Rush wrapped his arms around Young’s neck and his legs around Young’s waist.  Young held him with remarkable ease.  He walked a few paces, and then let Rush down to stand on the floor.  Rush dropped his hands to his sides, feeling somewhat lost. 

“Turn around.” 

Hesitating only a moment, Rush obeyed.    

He turned to find himself staring back at him.  He could see Young standing behind him, the mirror showing them both clearly from the waist up.  Young took hold of Rush’s hands and raised them, bracing them against the walls on either side of them.  He pushed his legs apart with his feet, forming an X with Rush’s limbs, and snaked his arms around Rush’s front.  Rush found himself fixated, unable to look away.   One hand clutched his chest while the other trailed up his throat and laid two fingers against his mouth.  A single breath, and Rush parted his lips.  The fingers slipped between them and Rush’s brow creased helplessly as he watched the invasion. 

“Suck.”

Rush did as he was told, and then moaned, hips squirming as his cheeks hollowed obscenely.  Wet digits pulled from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva.  Young ran them down his abdomen, brushing over his nipples and then to his navel.  Young’s front was pressed against his back, his chin tucked in the crook of Rush’s shoulder.  His eyes were set straight ahead, watching Rush watch what he was doing, and Rush could only pant wetly and observe.  The hand reached lower and lower, teasing coarse hairs at his groin before veering across one hip and up over the side of his buttock, which clenched in anticipation.

“How sore are you?” Young murmured, brushing lightly between Rush’s cheeks, making him shiver.  Rush noted that he didn’t ask if he was sore. 

“Not too bad,” Rush answered, quiet.  “Still…but, much better.”  He was caught in his own eyes, wide and bewildered in the glass.         

Young moved both hands to work open his belt.  He was close enough that Rush felt the buckle of Young’s belt brush against his arse as he pulled it.  Rush clenched and saw his own lip tremble.  He whimpered, then whimpered again, caught in a feedback loop of his own reactions. 

There was a soft sound as Young pulled his belt free of its loops, and Rush tried to focus on that instead.  Then he felt the caress of warm leather against his back, and his knees nearly buckled.  Young ran it down his spine, and over the curve of his arse, and back up again.  He slid it around to Rush’s chest and Rush could only watch helplessly as he fondled along his stomach with the folded strap.  He brought it low enough to graze his hardening cock, and then drew it back over his hip, down the side of his leg, and then back up along the inside, all the way to his groin.  The belt tucked just between where his arsecheeks fell open, teasing, and then pulled away. 

Young stepped away and looked over Rush’s back with a steady intensity.  He looked up and locked eyes with Rush in the mirror.  They held there a moment, and then Young unfolded the belt, taking hold of the buckle and winding the leather once around his hand.  Still looking straight at Rush, he whipped the other end hard against the floor.  Rush jumped at the sound that exploded in the quiet room, heart hammering in his chest.  Young’s glittering eyes were still watching him.  Breathing shallowly, Rush dropped his eyes and braced himself. 

CRACK!

The first blow struck right along his shoulder blade and he let out a hoarse scream, jolting.  His whole body was shaking, because that had fucking hurt, a deep bruising ache settling in after the initial sting. 

The second was almost sideways across his spine in the middle of his back.  He shuddered, a tremor starting deep in the center of him as his stomach twitched. 

The next hit hard along his buttocks and he jerked up on his toes, keening, before lowering back down and readjusting his hold on the wall. 

The blows started coming more evenly now, one after the other, each one making him jump and start and cry out.  Something in his body kept trying to evade the blows, flinching away, usually in the wrong direction.  His shoulders were tight, locked against his arms as they held him in position. 

He thought they’d gotten to ten when suddenly his muscles relaxed and he bowed his head between his shoulders, surrendering.  He breathed out, and let the beatings come, one bleeding into another in a punishing, relentless rhythm.  It was agonizing, but even so, each lick of leather felt like a kiss, and he moaned appreciatively as the pain built, evidence of just how much he was being given.  He eyes fluttered shut and he stretched, trying to lengthen his back to give Young a wider target. 

It stopped.  A moment later, Rush felt the hard metal of the buckle, warm from Young’s hand, drag against his right butt cheek.  He groaned, and arched. 

A second later, the buckle slammed into his skin, and he screeched, buttocks clenching.  Bull’s-eye, he thought, groaning.  Immediately, there was a large, firm hand gripping the right cheek over where he’d been struck, squeezing.  Rush threw his head back, moaning deeply as his cock bobbed in the air. 

“Bet that’ll leave a mark,” Young rumbled into his ear, and Rush shivered, finding it far too pleasing to think of being marked.  Young dropped the belt, and Rush felt it coil against his left foot, bringing a blush of pleasure to his cheeks.  Then Young was gone.  Rush felt his nakedness even more keenly without Young’s looming presence, every subtle shift in the air touching his bare skin and bringing notice to his aches and pains.  He blinked his eyes open, lifting his head slightly.  His face was red and gleaming with sweat, mouth open and gasping.  His chest heaved with every breath and he could see his swollen cock bouncing just behind the counter. 

Young returned and molded himself to Rush’s bruised back.  Rush hissed, leaning his head back against Young’s shoulder as large, warm hands wrapped around his chest.  The thick fabric of his uniform felt rough and callous after his beating.  There was a bulge in Young’s trousers pressing into his rear and Rush pressed back into it, easing his legs even wider. 

A hand pressed into his sternum.  “Open it.”

Rush blinked, only now noticing the jar of lubricant in Young’s left hand.  Flexing his fingers, he wiped his right hand, damp with sweat, on Young’s sleeve before twisting the lid of the jar open.  He let it drop to the counter, eyes locking with Young’s in the mirror. 

“Fingers.” 

It was not a very explicit instruction, but Rush got the idea.  He slipped three digits into the jar in Young’s hand.  Cool wetness hit them, and as he plunged into the slippery liquid he was overwhelmed by the strange intimacy of it.  His pelvis clenched.  He swirled his fingers about, and them removed them, dripping.  

Young pulled him back against his chest with his left arm, his right hand slipping under Rush’s thigh.  He lifted it, grabbing under the knee as it rose.  Soon Rush was balanced on one leg, supported mostly by Young.  Young raised his leg higher and higher, and pressed the sole of his foot against the wall near the level of his head.  It wasn’t comfortable and his joints creaked with the strain, but his body complied, splaying grotesquely.  Young placed the jar on the counter, and then took Rush’s left hand and guided it to his cock.  He used Rush’s hand to lift and hold it against his lower belly, leaving him even more exposed.  Then he picked up the jar again. 

“Get yourself ready.” 

Rush’s mouth went dry.  He could see everything in that unforgiving mirror, balls and hole displayed mercilessly.  His grip on his cock tightened painfully as his other hand began to shake.  Trembling, he moved his slick fingers toward his puckered entrance.  He brushed against the inner cheek of his arse, and shuddered. 

“No,” he whimpered. 

There was a silence, and the grip on his knee tightened.  “What was that?”

Rush bit his lip and shook his head.  He was even trying, but his hand would not move another inch, it just wouldn’t. 

“I can’t—” he choked out helplessly.  I can’t do this, he thought.  I cannot do this, I can’t…finger myself in a mirror while I watch, I just can’t. 

Young was watching him, eyes stern.  “You better, because I’m not doing it for you.”  He squeezed Rush’s leg warningly, tilting his head.  “This is the only way you’re gonna get lubed up tonight.”   

Rush chest tightened, tears of frustration forming in his throat.  He wasn’t trying to be stubborn, he wasn’t rebelling, he just…couldn’t…do this. 

He pulled his hand back, a pathetic half-sob twisting in his throat. 

“Fine,” Young said dangerously. 

He slammed down the lube, making Rush wince, and pulled down his leg.  Rush felt something like relief even as his hip protested at the quick change of position.  Then he was pushed forward over the counter, barely catching himself on his elbows in time.  Young kicked open his legs, spreading his thighs as wide as they’d go, and then pulling apart the cheeks of his arse. 

“Eyes up.” 

Rush swallowed, face burning, but raised his eyes to the mirror.  Young looked thunderous, dark and impressive as he loomed over him.  It was a stark contrast to Rush’s pale, quivering form, his face blotchy and trembling.  Rush forced himself to keep his eyes on Young, though he desperately wanted to drop them again. 

Young looked at him, unreadable. 

“I’m giving you one last shot.  Or would you rather I fuck you without anything?”  His eyes narrowed.  “Well?” 

Rush bit inside his lips, hands fisting.  He didn’t say a word. 

Do it.  Go on, do it. 

Young sighed.  “Eyes forward.” 

Rush dropped his gaze, but quickly raised it again, taking in his own miserable face.  He sniffed, biting back tears. 

In his periphery, he thought he saw Young bend forward.  He didn’t even have time to be confused before something hot and wet stroked over his entrance. 

There was a moment where he just froze and then, in some kind of delayed reaction, he flinched, jerking against the counter.  Young just took a firm grip of his thighs, and licked him again. 

The muscles of his buttocks went into spasms, and he keened, high and shrill in the back of his throat.  Young was merciless.  He laved with his tongue, sucking at tender flesh as though he were trying to devour him and the tip of his tongue traced Rush’s puckered opening before pressing firmly till the tip slipped inside. 

It was too much, too much pleasure.  It felt too good, devastatingly good, and there was nowhere to run or hide from it.  Eyes wide and terrified, he saw every tremor and twist upon his face, every wordless, voiceless cry, every twitch and crease of his brow, every contorted expression and snarling sob.  His hand reached out and scratched pitifully at the mirror, in perhaps a senseless attempt to claw his own eyes out. 

“Stop, stop, please,” he begged, but he could barely hear his own voice. 

He tried to concentrate on the hurt across his back and buttocks, on the soreness in his anus which Young’s ministrations didn’t do nearly enough to aggravate.  It wasn’t working.  The pain was too distant, too easily overcome by pure pleasure.  He was spinning higher and higher, into dizzying heights.  If he didn’t find a way to ground himself, he thought he might lose himself completely.  He needed…he needed…

Smack! 

Young froze, as did Rush, hardly believing what he’d done.  The sting on his right buttock, and in his fingers, while satisfying for the moment, was already starting to fade.

Young lifted his head, staring at him through the mirror. 

“Did you just spank yourself?” he demanded, incredulous.  A beat, and then a slow, dark smile formed on his lips.  “Without permission?” 

Rush gulped. 

He was pulled to his feet fast enough to make his head spin.  Young reached around him and snatched up the blindfold that still sat in the corner of the counter, quickly setting it over Rush’s eyes and tying it tight.  Rush was flooded with relief, no longer forced to look at himself, though he knew better than to think such a feeling would last very long. 

Young gripped him by the arm and pulled.  He stumbled, and then was practically flung onto the bed, bouncing on his hands and knees.  A moment to catch his breath, and his arms were wrenched behind him.  He fell to his stomach, and then his feet were pulled up behind him as well.  His legs bent at the knees, and Young wound what felt like first one belt, and then another, around his wrists and ankles, cinching them together at the small of his back.  Hogtied, he thought, breathing hard as he turned his face to one side, laid it on the bed, and tried calm himself. 

There was a long pause, and then his knees were pushed open.  Young settled between them, pulling at his clenched cheeks.  Rush whimpered, and squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold. 

A hot tongue swirled about his hole, and he actually wailed, teeth baring as he cried out balefully against the blankets.  His lack of sight was no longer an advantage, as it only heightened the sensations he was being assailed with—his bound limbs, his leaking cock trapped between his stomach and the bed, but most of all, the scorching, wet, wriggling organ torturing his arse. 

If Young would just bite or scratch or something it might have been bearable, but this…this unrelenting, concentrated pleasure… He squirmed, trying to get away, and managed to scoot up a few inches, but Young simply followed after and soon he reached the edge of the bed.  He hung his head, letting it fall partway off the mattress, and sobbed.  Tears rolled down his cheeks as he cried openly and without restraint. 

The tip of Young’s tongue stiffened against his entrance, and pushed.  Wet heat invaded him, slow and sure, bit by bit, filling him, and Rush came hard into the bed, drenching the covers as his hips jerked, helpless and uneven. 

He lay there panting as Young withdrew, warm cum squishing against his cock and belly.  Open air brushed his dampened hole, leaving him cool and bereft.  He felt boneless.  Liquefied. 

A firm hand tugged at his hair, and he lifted his head without a thought.  Something hard nudged against his lips, and he parted them.  When Young’s cock thrust into his mouth, his only discernable emotion was gratitude. 

Young fucked his mouth evenly, pushing hard and deep, and Rush opened his mouth and throat, welcoming the intrusion.  Tears stained his cheeks and sometimes he would choke, but Young didn’t let up, blessedly unheedful. 

The blindfold was torn from his head and Rush blinked rapidly, blinded even by Destiny’s dim light. 

“Look at me.” 

Rush raised his eyes at Young’s growled command, and whimpered.  Seeing Young stare down at him somehow made him feel the violation of his mouth even more keenly, each slide through his lips leaving them stung and tingling.  His cock twitched, though it was far too soon to grow hard again, as his hands and feet flexed futilely against their bonds. 

Young watched him with dark, hooded eyes, pulsing his hips almost lazily, and Rush clenched his lower belly as he fought this fresh, sharp stab of arousal.  His hips wriggled, pushing further into the mess of his own cum. 

Rush’s eyelids fluttered with relief when Young finally came, flooding his mouth.  He did his best to swallow, but some of it still escaped, dribbling down his chin.  Young’s softening cock left his mouth and he coughed, spitting up more cum around his lips. 

Young looked down at him, the picture of dignity. 

Rush cum-stained lips quivered, bruised buttocks clenching as he gazed up from his prone position.  Thank you, he thought, the only clear words in his clouded mind.  But he couldn’t say that.  Young let go of his hair, and he bowed his head. 

A few minutes later, careful hands pulled at the belts binding him and slowly eased his limbs to the bed.  They rubbed his joints and muscles, squeezing stiffness out of them.  Rush lay there, unmoving. 

Young pulled gently at his shoulder, coaxing him to his knees.  Rush pushed up on his elbows and complied.  He put his hands on Young’s arms to steady himself, but managed to sit back on his heels.

Young put a hand on the back of his neck.  “How are you feeling?” 

Rush inhaled, and let out a deep, shuddering, breath.  He ran a hand over his eyes, holding the bridge of his nose a moment.  “Alright,” he said quietly, with a slight nod. 

Young tilted his head up, peering at him.  “You’re sure?” 

Rush nodded.  “Yeah,” he breathed, blinking.  Then, stronger.  “Yeah.”

There was a pause, and then Young moved away, returning with a washcloth.  He handed it to Rush, who wiped first over his mouth, and then his crotch.  Young sat down beside him on the bed, half turned to face him.  There was a long pause. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Young asked again. 

Rush sighed, glaring from the corner of his eye.  “Would you stop?  It’s irritating.”  He shifted his legs out from under him, sitting carefully on his bruised arse.  He rolled his shoulders.  “You’re probably just fishing for compliments.” 

Young snorted, but smiled.        

“So,” Young said a little later.  “Did things get…simple, this time?” 

Rush stilled, glancing away.  “Maybe,” he said after a moment.  “For a bit.  It’s…a matter of degrees, I suppose.” 

Young was quiet.  “Degrees.  Okay.”  He sounded like he was processing, or cataloguing.  He glanced at Rush.  “Are you tired?” 

“Actually,” Rush replied, rubbing at the mess on the blankets before tossing the rag to one side.  “Surprisingly…not.  I feel…” he stretched his arms.  “Energized.” 

Young gave a little nod, smiling.  “Yeah, me too.” 

“Yeah?” Rush gave him a look.  Young nodded again. 

“So what were thinking of doing?” Young asked. 

Rush hmmed thoughtfully.  “There are some equations I could work on.” 

Young groaned.  “Are you serious?” 

“Might as well take advantage,” Rush insisted. 

Young groaned again.  “I suppose there’s some reports I could finish reading,” he said reluctantly after a moment.  His eyes slid over to Rush.  “Though before you run off…” 

Rush raised an eyebrow. 

Young pulled him up and led him back to the mirror.  Rush felt a slight stab of apprehension, but Young turned him around so he was facing outwards, lifting him at the waist to sit on the counter.  Young stood between his legs, a playful glint in his eye, and glanced over Rush’s shoulder. 

“Take a look,” he encouraged, not quite smiling.  Rush looked back at him, amused, then gave a sigh and turned his head. 

He inhaled sharply as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.  Long bruises lay starkly across his skin, all the way down his back.  A thrill ran through him as he ran his eyes along every inch.  When he reached the curve of his arse his breath hitched, the shape of Young’s belt buckle clearly visible on his right cheek.  He sat up straighter and leaned forward, arching to get a better view.  He bit his lip. 

“Well?”  Rush turned back to Young, who was watching him expectantly.  “What do you think?” Young asked lowly. 

Rush smirked.  “Oh, so you are fishing for compliments.”  Young growled warningly in the back of throat, and Rush laughed.  He draped his arms about Young’s neck.  “You do very good work,” he assured, gazing into Young’s eyes, and he leaned in. 

He stopped abruptly, millimeters from Young’s mouth, suddenly unsure. 

“What?” Young needled.  “You feeling squeamish, now I’ve had my tongue in your ass?” 

Rush let out an insulted puff of air, outraged, and grabbed Young’s collar in both hands.  They crashed together, mouths opening and eyes closing on contact.  Young wrapped his arms tight around Rush’s back and Rush wrapped his own arms around Young’s neck, pulling them even closer.  Their mouths worked together, finding a mutual rhythm of lips and tongues and even teeth.  They began furiously, then became more languid, and Rush moaned at the slow intensity.  They pulled away gradually.  Rush’s lips were tingling, and he kept his eyes cast downward as they opened. 

They stayed there, breathing, and then Rush turned to look over his shoulder.  Filled with a lazy sensuousness, he leaned forward into Young and brought one hand to trace a finger over the bruise left by the buckle on his arse.  Young hummed deep in his chest, and slid his own hands up and down Rush’s back.  Rush took a deep breath, turned back to Young, putting careful hands on his chest and pushing gently away. 

Young let him, stepping back to allow him to slip from his perch and stand on the floor. 

“You know, if you don’t need a console or anything, you could just work here,” Young said after a minute.

Rush’s brows rose.  “Really.” 

Young shrugged, and took another step back.  “You have your notepad, right?” 

Rush nodded warily.  Young walked to his clothes, rifled through the pockets, and pulled out his notepad, pen, and glasses.  He brought them to Rush, holding them out without a word.  After a moment, Rush took them.  Young smiled. 

Rush sighed.  “Fine.”  Young smiled wider.  Rush stepped around him, and made for his clothes. 

“What are you doing?” Young asked, as Rush bent over to pick up his trousers.  Rush glanced up. 

“Getting dressed?” he said with an obvious wave of his hand. 

Young brow furrowed exaggeratedly.  “Why?” 

Rush shot him an unamused glare, then huffed, dropping his trousers back to the floor. 

“Fine,” he said, half bowing, and moved to the bed.  He flopped across it on his stomach, to minimize any…distraction, and put on his glasses.  He flipped open his notes, and got to work. 

There was some shuffling as Young stripped down to his under things, picking up some papers from the table.  A moment later, he joined Rush on the bed, sitting up against the wall and casually stretching out his legs to rest his feet, crossed at the ankles, on Rush’s arse.

Immediately Rush lifted his head, glaring blandly out into the room.  A huffed breath, and he turned that glare deliberately onto Young.  Young’s eyes were fixed on the pages in front of him.  He read quietly, making no acknowledgement of Rush. 

Rush narrowed his eyes, and turned away again.  Fine, that was just…fine.  He went back to his work. 

For a long while the only sounds in the room was the scratching of a pen and shuffling papers.  The steady weight of Young’s feet proved not too distracting.  There was actually a strange sort of comfort in it.  That was, until he started shifting them, rubbing them together in a way that pressed down into Rush’s bruises or scraped over the bare skin of his arse. 

“If you don’t stop that, I’m leaving,” Rush said flatly. 

“What?  I have an itch,” Young responded cheekily.  Rush glared from the corner of his eye, but the corner of his lip twitched. 

They stayed like that until Rush started yawning, blinking in the dim light and rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. 

Young shifted off of him, planting his feet on the bed.  “Let’s call it a night.”

Rush waved him off, even as he yawned again.  Young cleared his throat pointedly.  Rush glanced up and found Young holding out one hand, palm up, a firm look in his eye.  With a resigned sigh, Rush pulled off his glasses and handed them over, along with his pen and pad.  Young set them on the nightstand, and then beckoned Rush with a curl of his fingers. 

Rush crawled up the bed, and slid under the covers with Young.  Young moved in close and pressed against his back, wrapping his arms over his chest.  Rush sighed contentedly at the warmth and subtle hurt that settled into him.  His eyelids fell.  He breathed in once, twice, three times, and was asleep. 

Chapter Text

Rush awoke on his stomach, Young’s firm hands making smooth motions over his back. 

“You’re awake,” he rumbled into Rush’s ear, and Rush smiled despite himself. 

“You don’t have to wait, you know,” Rush said, still thick with sleep. 

“What do you mean?” Young asked, rubbing circles with his thumbs in the small of Rush’s back. 

Rush turned his head to one side and peered over his shoulder.  “If you’re…inclined, you’re welcome to…do whatever you like.  You needn’t wait for me to wake up.” 

Young looked back steadily, hazel eyes as indecipherable as ever.  After a moment, he looked away, saying nothing. He slipped his hands downwards over Rush’s arse, massaging the bruised muscle with intent fingers. 

He pulled his cock from his boxers, already hard, and traced patterns with the leaking tip over Rush’s arse.  Rush squirmed, ever so slightly, his own cock just beginning to be interested.  When Young teased down the crack of his arse, Rush let out a muffled moan. 

Young didn’t do much more than that though, just sat back on his heels and jerked himself off.  Rush made himself be content with that, closing his eyes and lying still.  Bit by bit, his muscles relaxed.  Something inside him quieted and calmed, and he thought of nothing but being available for Young’s pleasure.  Then, he thought nothing at all, falling into a warm, cloudy haze. 

Minutes later, he was loosely aware of hot cum as it spilled across his arse.  It brought him a bright burst of pleasure, somewhat different than arousal, though no less acute.  There was a sharp pinch to his right buttock, and he let out a soft, contented sigh. 

“So, Rush,” Young said, rubbing the back of his thigh.  He leaned in behind Rush’s ear.  “You want to come this morning?” 

Rush blinked at the question, brow furrowing. 

“Rush?” Young prompted.  A swing of legs and a shift of body, and Young was lying beside him, looking in his eyes.  Rush looked back.  A moment later, Young’s brow furrowed in concern, though Rush couldn’t imagine why.  “Rush, are you okay?” 

Rush blinked again, and then it was like he was breaking the surface of a pool, gasping. 

“I’m back,” he said quickly, chest heaving as Young looked at him uneasily.  Young turned on his back, still watching him.  Rush breathed out and wiped his face. 

“Was that…” Young started cautiously.  Rush didn’t look at him, but nodded.  “W…I mean, why w—?” 

Rush shrugged hopelessly, moving to turn on his back before remembering the cum on his arse, nose wrinkling.  Young wordlessly handed him a rag, and he wiped up the mess impatiently, throwing it to the floor as he flipped over.  They lay next to each other, both staring up at the ceiling. 

After a minute, Rush spoke. 

“I don’t know why.  I don’t know why sometimes, and not other times, or how much or for how long.  It’s not calculable.  It just...happens.  It’s…” he sighed.  “It’s a feeling.” 

“Are you actually admitting that there’s a problem that can’t be solved by math?” Young said lightly after a moment. 

“I have never said—” Rush blustered, turning, only to find Young smirking playfully at him.  He let out an exhausted sigh that turned into a chuckle, running a hand over his face.  He sighed again, making a helpless gesture with his hand before dropping it.         

“It helps—” Rush started, but broke off just as suddenly.  A brief internal struggle, and then he pressed on.  “This helps.  Talking.  Like this.”  He turned his eyes to Young. 

Young looked at him carefully, and gave a little nod.  He dropped his eyes, as though he were thinking. 

“What’s it like?” Young asked after a minute, lifting his eyes again. 

Rush glanced away.  “I told you.  It’s…”

“Yeah, but,” Young interrupted.  He seemed to struggle a moment, then spoke again.  “Why…it was like you couldn’t answer my question just now.  But the other day, you were still able to do high-level physics calculations.  How does that work?” 

“Well,” Rush said carefully.  “Physics is simple.”  Young snorted.  “It is,” Rush insisted.  “I’m not being—” he sighed.  “It’s…numbers.  It all lines up perfectly and there’s only one right answer.  Other things…” he paused.  “Allother things.  They’re more complicated.” 

Young was quiet.  “So, when I asked if you wanted to…” Rush looked away.  “You…didn’t know the right answer?  Or…” he went on, more haltingly.  “Didn’t know…what you wanted?”

Rush pressed his lips together, eyes tracking back and forth over nothing.  “No,” he didn’t quite stammer.  “No, it…it’s more like there isn’t an answer.  To…that question.” 

“Like,” Young pressed, like he was trying to understand.  “You don’t…want anything?”    

“Like…” Rush tried to explain.  “Like, there’s no I to want anything.  No…” he trailed off. 

Young looked thoughtful.  “You said...it happened before?”  Rush nodded.  “When?” 

Rush took a breath, letting it gust out of him.  “The…first night we…after we talked.  For a bit.  And…” he swallowed.  “When I w…my—punishment,” he ended, quietly. 

“I remember that,” Young murmured, eyes lighting.  “You got…” he didn’t finish as his eyes turned inward, thinking.  After the moment, they turned back to Rush.  “There must be a way to…remind you, to bring you back quickly.  A signal, maybe, like the safe word but…” he trailed off, thinking again.  Then, firmly.  “We’ll figure something out.” 

Rush smiled softly, and nodded.  “Let’s not have too many…parameters, though,” he said lightly.  “I like being surprised.” 

Young grunted in agreement.  “It’s the only way I ever get the edge on you,” he said wryly.  Rush dropped his gaze, an uncomfortable tightness settling in his chest.  “So…” Young continued, suggestively running a finger down Rush’s blanket covered leg.  “Would you…?”

Rush laughed good-naturedly.  “Ah, no.  Thank you.  I think I’ll put some clothes on for the first time in…” he glanced around, not finding a time device close at hand.  “…However long I’ve been here.”  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching. 

Young stayed reclined on the bed as he dressed, watching him with an easy contentment. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Young exclaimed, rising, just as Rush had finished with his shoes.  “I got you something.” 

Rush made a face, putting his glasses and notepad back in his pockets.  “What, like, a present?”

Young shot him a look.  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” he cautioned, and set a military issue duffel bag on the coffee table with a thunk.

Feeling odd, Rush unzipped the bag and pulled it open, looking inside.  A brief pause, and he reached inside and took something out.   

“You got me a pile of wood,” he said flatly, holding a piece disdainfully in one hand. 

“Turns out we got a lot from our last haul, everyone was splitting it up the other day, I thought you could use it for…something,” Young explained. 

“Like what?” Rush scoffed. 

“I…dunno,” Young stammered.  “I saw you making that chess set…” 

Rush glanced away and back again.  “I finished the chess set.” 

Young spread his hands helplessly, sighing.  Rush looked back in the bag, scanning over the contents a little more carefully.  He rubbed over the wood in his hand thoughtfully. 

“Look, you don’t have to take it,” Young said abruptly, making a grab for the bag. 

Rush pulled it out of his reach.  “No, I’ll take it,” he said quickly. 

Rush replaced the piece from his hand, and zipped the bag.  He slung it over one shoulder, and stood straight, daring Young to comment.  Young dropped his hand to his side.  There was an awkward silence, and then Rush made for the door.

He dropped the bag off at his quarters first, and then got on with his day. 

That night, Rush’s feet brought him automatically to Young’s door, slowing only slightly as he approached.  A breath and a swallow, and he went inside.

Young stood near the middle of the room, hands pulling at the zipper near his throat.  He stopped, looking up, at Rush’s entrance.  A light smile played at his lips.  He put his hands behind his back, turning to face Rush squarely. 

“Strip.” 

Rush disrobed, wondering at the thrill that still shot through him.  He should find it boring, predictable, but instead…it was like a promise, and standing naked in the room his cock was already twitching. 

Young waved him over.  Rush flexed his fingers and took a step, and then another, until they were eye to eye.  Young spread his arms. 

“Take off my jacket.” 

Rush’s eyes skittered, as he was caught off guard.  A moment’s hesitation, and he lifted his hands, dropping his eyes.  He slid Young’s zipper down with a slowness he couldn’t quite control.  He could feel Young’s eyes on his face.  He pulled open the collar, and eased the jacket off Young’s shoulders and down his arms.  When it was free, he held it awkwardly in both hands. 

“Put it on the couch,” Young instructed, gesturing with his chin.  Rush turned and laid it over the back. 

“Now my shirt.” 

Eyes still cast downward, Rush pulled at where Young’s shirt tucked into his trousers, and lifted.  Young raised his arms as he went and soon he’d gotten it over Young’s head.  He placed it with the jacket without being told. 

“This too,” Young said, gesturing to his undershirt. 

Rush repeated his motions, blinking as his fingers brushed bare skin.  When he held the fabric in his hands, he looked covetously over Young’s strong, broad chest and shoulders, before moving to place the undershirt with the rest of Young’s clothes. 

“Shoes,” Young said simply when he turned back. 

A brief nervous glance to Young’s face, and he sank to his knees.  His face heated as he worked at Young’s right boot.  Young lifted his foot as he pulled, placing a hand on Rush’s shoulder to steady himself.  Rush hesitated, fingers brushing the ankle of Young’s sock, and looked up.  Young gave a curt nod, and he removed that as well.  He did the same with the left, and set the shoes and socks aside.  He stayed on his knees. 

He looked up again, hands already lifting toward Young’s belt.  Another nod, and he took hold of the buckle.  He undid it, and then Young’s fly, and tugged the trousers down his legs.  Young stepped out of them, and Rush folded them and set them beside Young’s shoes.  He dropped his hands, almost afraid to look up. 

“Rush.” 

He forced his eyes up, and Young gave him a pointed nod.  A slight swallow, and he lifted his hands to the waist of Young’s boxers. 

He brought them down carefully, inhaling deeply as Young was revealed.  Even as he brought the boxers down around Young’s ankles, his eyes stayed fixed on his cock.  Young stepped out of them, and kicked them away.  Young was already half-hard, and Rush sat back on his heels, unconsciously licking over his lips. 

There was a low chuckle, and Rush glanced up. 

“Uh-uh,” Young admonished, wagging a finger.  He sauntered away, and Rush watched him, arousal pooling in his lower belly.  Young snatched up the lube, and lay back on the bed, propped up on some pillows. 

“Up,” he said sharply, and Rush rose.  Young curled one finger, beckoning, and Rush crawled dutifully onto the bed and up Young’s body.  He straddled him at the waist and Young opened the jar of lubricant, resting it on his chest. 

“Stretch yourself.”

Rush looked at him sharply.  Young looked back steadily, and it was quite clear that he had not forgotten about the other day.  Rush swallowed, and dropped his eyes.  He wouldn’t have to look this time, so maybe…with a deep breath, he dipped his fingers in the slick fluid.  He braced his other hand on Young’s shoulder, and reached behind. 

At the first touch, his eyes fell closed with a muffled groan.  He pressed one finger in to the hilt, and then two.  It had been quite a while since he’d done this, he realized.  Since he was forbidden to touch himself now, and Young had done all their preparation thus far, it had been some time since he’d had his own fingers in his arse.  He moaned, hips pulsing, as he moved in and out.  

Young laced a hand through his hair, pulling him closer. 

“When you’re ready, put the lube away and sit up.” 

Rush could feel Young’s breath on his face, they were so close, and he whimpered, nodding.  Rush added more lube, mouth working voicelessly as he stretched himself open.  Their faces couldn’t be more than an inch apart, and Rush’s face contorted as he worked in himself.  He didn’t dare open his eyes. 

Too soon, he grew impatient.  Young usually stretched him more, but he couldn’t wait.  Sharp need stabbed through him, stronger and stronger.  With a frustrated grunt, he brought his hand away and, trembling, replaced the lid of the jar, setting it aside.  Young let him sit up straight on his knees.  Rush blinked his eyes open, chest heaving. 

“Put your hands behind your head.” 

Rush took a deep breath, nodding weakly.  He raised his hands to the back of his head, mewling as his cock nearly jumped in response. 

He was kneeling over Young, looking down on him, but he didn’t feel remotely powerful.  He felt exposed.  Young brought a hand between them and then Rush felt the tip of Young’s cock brush between his cheeks.  He squeezed his eyes shut, his own cock painfully hard, and he was helpless to stop the resulting swirl of his pelvis.  Young brought his other hand to Rush’s hip and gently guided him down. 

There was a pressure against his hole, and then the tip of Young’s cock was inside him.  He lowered slowly, thighs trembling.  Had Young gotten bigger?  He clenched his teeth and bore down, fingers digging into the back of his skull.  Then, something slipped, his muscles failed, and he slammed down as gravity took over.  His strangled cry blended with Young’s hiss.

“Fuck,” Rush rasped, whimpering. 

“Shit,” Young groaned.  “Shit, you’re tight.” 

Rush felt tight, clamped around Young’s bruising hardness.  He whined at the unforgiving ache, the solid rod that penetrated him an inescapable violation.  He felt so full, so hollowed out to make room for this that he might never feel whole without it again.  It was a terrifying, cataclysmic, feeling. 

He clenched, reveling in a fresh wave of pain and invasion, and all he could think was yes. 

“Move,” Young ordered, fingers tightening on Rush’s hips, and Rush inhaled through his nose, steeling himself. 

He rose on his knees, only managing a few inches before falling back down.  He and Young both grunted, and he tried again.  It took him a bit, and it was exhausting, but he finally got a rhythm going.  Sweat dripped down his bare skin, cool in the open air, and he panted with every struggling motion.  His muscles burned with the strain of it, and even that only contributed to his heightening pleasure. 

When Young took hold of his cock, he thought he would pass out. 

“Are you hitting your prostate?” Young asked sliding a thumb over Rush’s foreskin.  Only the slightest breathiness in Young’s voice betrayed he was anything other than casual. 

Rush paused as he tried to answer.  “Not,” he began, gasping.  “Not…particularly.”  He licked his lips.  “I mean, not…directly, or…on purpose.” 

Young regarded him, eyes smoky, his face glittering with perspiration. 

“Do it.  Now.” 

Rush’s stomach clenched, and he rose up, angling forward.  He crashed back down with a bitter cry, and then pleasure exploded sending his head spinning. 

“Again.”

His bottom lip quivered, but he obeyed.  He shouted harshly into the room, head bowing as he reeled from sensation. 

“Keep going,” Young instructed.  “Don’t stop till I say.” 

Rush let out a quaking breath.  “I…I’ll fall,” he protested feebly, already barely keeping his balance. 

“You can put your hands on me,” Young placated.  “Go on.” 

Slowly, shifting stiff fingers and shoulders, Rush lowered his hands.  He abruptly realized there were tears streaking his face.  He leaned forward and placed his palms against Young’s shoulders.  Young was already rubbing over his cock and he groaned, head falling. 

“Rush,” Young warned.  Rush nodded, and rose again, this time letting his arms and Young take some of his weight. 

What happened next was a flurry of sense and sound and heat, spiraling whirlingly in uncontrolled abandon.  He pummeled against his prostate relentlessly, eyes clouding over with pleasure.  It only made him more aware of Young’s firm muscles under his hands, his solid form between his knees, and most of all, his warm hand on Rush’s cock working him in rough, even motions.

There was only so much he could take, and he came shuddering into Young’s hand, who squeezed the drops into his palm.  Rush continued to twitch, impaled by Young’s cock, for minutes after.  Hair fell over his face as his head bowed and he gasped for breath. 

“Shh,” Young soothed, rubbing his left hand over Rush’s thigh.  “That’s it.  Just rest.” 

Rush sighed out gratefully, going limp.  Young’s erection still stretched him painfully, but he let himself relax around it, sitting into Young’s hips.  A moment later, Young raised his right hand to Rush’s face.  Rush took it blearily and licked the cum from Young’s palm.  He heard Young groan as he worked.  He kissed the center of Young’s hand when he’d finished, open-mouthed and indulgent. 

He lowered Young’s hand mutely, looking to him with a strange, languid calm.  Young laid both his hand at Rush’s hips, and watched him steadily. 

“You ready?” Young asked him, low and even.  Rush looked him in the eye, and nodded. 

Young’s hands tightened, and he rolled them over, settling between Rush’s legs.  Rush let his arms fall loosely over his head and wrapped his legs around Young’s waist, groaning as Young was brought deeper into him.  Young took firm hold of the back of his legs.  Rush sighed and his eyes fell closed with easy contentment as Young fucked into him brutally.   

It was moments like this that were maybe the most incredible, in all the many recent moments that stretched the limits of credibility, Young thought, thrusting into the tightness of Rush’s ass.  Rush’s hands lay over his head, placed and kept there all on his own without one word or action from Young.  His hands would fist, legs tightening around Young’s waist, or he’d squirm underneath him, biting his lip and moaning, but otherwise he stayed totally still, eyes closed, just…taking. 

Young lifted a hand and brushed it lightly over Rush’s face, watching as his lips parted, gasping at his touch.  Part of Young wanted to have him open his eyes, look into them while he fucked into him, but another part reveled in the unguarded placidity of keeping them closed.  In the same way, part of him wanted to toy with Rush, push him into some kind of reaction, while another enjoyed simply watching him as he was.  It was becoming a not unfamiliar feeling: did he want to speak, or prolong the silence?  Have Rush move, or be still?  Watch his face, or watch him from behind?  Quick and dirty, or make it last?  Ass or mouth or something else, have Rush drink down their cum or leave him covered with it, pain or pleasure, rough or soft? 

A kid in a candy store, that’s what it was like, he thought, pressing a thumb into Rush’s nipple and making him arch.  That’s what Rush was like, like this, like a door opening up to a thousand delicious possibilities and all he had to do was choose. 

He watched Rush wriggle against the covers and he knew that, as enjoyable as this was, he wasn’t going to be able to resist playing a little bit more. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, gruff and goading.  “Having you on your back like this?”  After the beating I gave you, he didn’t need to say. 

Rush’s eyes opened a sliver, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.  “Not…” he shook his head slightly.  “Not too much.” 

Young made a soft hmm sound, and then leaned forward.  He pressed chest to chest with Rush and placed his hands over Rush’s wrists, letting Rush take his weight.  Immediately, Rush cried out, broken and alarmed. 

“What about now?” Young asked, unnecessarily.  Rush just moaned, feet clamping behind Young back as his hips pushed up into him. 

Young growled, and took hold of Rush’s jaw.  He tilted his head to one side, and murmured almost directly into his cheek.  “Did you look?” 

“What?” Rush stammered, high and breathless. 

“On your own,” Young expounded.  “Did you look?”  He slid a hand under Rush’s backside, making a long swipe over his rump for emphasis.

Rush’s eyes were wide open now, staring straight out, though clearly looking at nothing.  He swallowed again. 

“Maybe,” he said, very quietly.  “Just…just a bit.” 

Young made a mocking tsk sound with his tongue.  “I always knew you were prone to pride, Rush, but vanity?”  He brushed his lips over Rush’s cheekbone.  “That I wouldn’t have guessed.  Aren’t you supposed to be above that sort of thing?” 

Rush was shaking his head back and forth, eyes turning beseechingly to Young. “No, no, I—” 

“False modesty doesn’t become you, Rush,” he scolded, and whispered into his ear.  “You know how good you look.”  Rush clenched around him, keening.  “I don’t blame you, though.  It’s hard not to look.” 

Young suddenly had an urgent desire himself, and pulled away.  Rush made a wince as his cock tore from his hole far too quickly to be comfortable, descending into a mournful whimpering. 

“Roll over.” 

For a moment, Rush did nothing, just trembled on the bed, but then he slowly turned to one side, and then flat on his stomach.  Young inhaled, long and deep, as he took in the sight. 

Beautiful. 

At another time, he would probably be disturbed by that reaction, but right now…there was just no other word.  He slid his hands over the curves of Rush’s ass and up his back, crisscrossed with broad stripes in reddish-purple, and then back down again, cradling the firm globes in both hands.  His right hand framed the mark left by the buckle, the one Rush had seemed so enthralled by, and he squeezed, watching the blemish change with the flesh underneath. 

“Up on your knees,” he said, moving his hands to Rush’s thighs and coaxing them up and open. 

Rush tucked his knees under him, keeping his head down, and raised his ass.  Young didn’t even pause, just spread his cheeks and plunged back into him.  Rush mewled as Young’s hips hit the back of his thighs, a quiet tremble undulating through him like a wave.  Young groaned, taking a moment just to re-appreciate the tight heat, this time with the new sight of Rush’s bruised skin bowed before him.  He found his brow creasing, though, not quite liking the trade-off.  A moment of thought, and he bent over Rush’s back. 

He took hold of Rush’s hair and pulled, twisting, till Rush rose from the bed.  He forced Rush to turn over his shoulder, back arching at an almost unnatural angle.  Eventually, Rush was forced to take his arms from the bed, bracing them instead against the wall. 

That’s better, Young thought, satisfied.  Rush was staring at him from the corner of wide, wild eyes, mouth open and gaping.  His back was bent so far it looked broken, which really only made his markings look more attractive. 

Young gripped his ass hard in his other hand for leverage, and started fucking again.  Rush’s eyes rolled into his head and he gnashed his teeth, practically gurgling as he seemed to want to shout but couldn’t quite find his voice.  Young took it all in, not just the pieces, but the whole—the striped, contorted back and shattered expression, the tight heat clenched around his cock and the desperate not-quite-wailing that grew with each thrust. 

He pulled out as he started to come, sliding his cock along Rush’s crack as he spurted down Rush’s curved spine.  Rush made a high keening sound and arched further, thrusting his ass harder into Young’s cock.  When he was spent, Young let out a low, growling breath, and let go of Rush’s hair, sitting back.  Rush slumped forward, his arms and face falling to the bed.  He kept his ass in the air.  Young watched, pleased, as his cum dripped down Rush’s sloped back.  He right hand still gripped hard into Rush’s right butt cheek, clenched tight from when he’d come.  Slowly, he detached his fingers, stretching them as he became aware of a slight ache.  There was a handprint-shaped bruise already starting to form. 

His post-orgasmic haze began to clear.  He looked steadily over Rush’s trembling, prostrate form.  His hand clenched once, and then spread wide, flexing, a new kind of excitement settling in his stomach. 

He skated his right palm firmly over Rush’s back, playing at the bruises and gathering the slick cum in his fingers.  Then, he took his other hand and rolled Rush to one side.  He slipped in behind him, naked chest to naked back, and his left arm went under Rush’s neck, his hand taking gentle hold of Rush’s jaw and throat.  He tucked his face behind Rush’s ear, and inhaled, drawing in the scent of fresh sweat and musk.  Rush shivered, and Young smiled.  He draped his right arm over Rush’s side and wrapped his hand, coated in cum, around Rush’s profoundly hard cock. 

Rush’s response was instantaneous, shifting and mewling in Young’s arms.  Young just held Rush in a firm grip, unmoving, just feeling its hot and desperate rigidity.  Young had never even touched another man’s cock before all this, but there was something truly intoxicating about taking Rush in his fist.  It was a ruthlessly uncomplicated kind of power.  He squeezed. 

Rush whimpered. 

He shoved his knees between Rush’s legs and spread them open.  Rush’s right leg hooked over the back of Young’s thigh, the other pressed into the bed under Young’s other leg.  Young used his hand to tilt up Rush’s chin and bring him back into his shoulder. 

“Fuck my hand,” he breathed, deep and gruff into Rush’s ear. 

For a moment Rush just vibrated, taut as a wire, and then he gripped one hand into the blankets underneath them, brought the other to brace awkwardly on Young’s right arm, and began pumping his hips.  The angle was clearly difficult, and he had little leverage, but he managed, thrusting into Young’s fist, first quite slowly, and then faster and faster.  Young felt the friction against his palm and fingers, heating the cooling liquid of his cum.  Rush was gasping, working frenetically, hips snapping in uneven rhythms.  He was hurtling toward release, uncontrolled. 

The second Young sensed the beginnings of Rush’s orgasm, he clamped down on the base of Rush’s cock.  Rush arched, screeching, and then slammed back against Young.  He lay there quivering, breathing in shuddering, gulping whimpers. 

After a time, he calmed, strained muscles slowly uncoiling.  Young pressed his lips along where Rush’s jaw met his cheekbone.

“Again.” 

Rush’s eyes rolled to look at him, furtive and fearful, from the corners of his eyes.  His bottom lip trembled. 

He started again, hips pushing his cock through the vice of Young’s hand.  He went slower, more carefully, biting his lip in nervous apprehension. 

“Faster,” Young ordered.  Rush bit his lip harder, but obeyed.  He pumped quickly, but was clearly holding back, preserving a part himself and restraining the build that would lead to orgasm. 

“Careful, Rush,” Young warned.  “You’re not allowed to stop yourself from coming, remember?”  He pressed his lips hard against Rush’s ear, teeth grazing cartilage.  “Only I can do that.”

Rush’s face began to collapse, muscles twitching against each other as he choked back a sob.  The hand on Young’s arm tightened.  Then, like a dry twig breaking, Rush closed his eyes.  Tears slipped from under his lids as he leaned his head back, and gave himself up. 

Rush pushed himself to the brink again, and again Young stopped him, just on the edge.  Rush let out a hollow, shouting scream, tears streaming down his face.  He sank into Young still crying hard enough to make him shake.  Young fondled the lines of his neck and licked a broad stripe up his cheek, tasting salt. 

“Again.” 

Rush turned his face and looked in Young’s eyes, his own bright with tears.  His lips were parted with unspoken pleas.  Trembling, he moved his hands.  He placed one over the hand at his throat, and the other lightly to the side of Young’s face.  Then his hips started pumping, fast and even, as he stared unblinkingly in Young’s eyes.  Young’s fingers tightened around Rush’s jaw, holding him in place, fixed on the black and dark amber of Rush’s eyes. 

When he felt the moment was right, he made a single stroke along Rush’s cock, and that was all it took to send him over the edge.  Rush’s eyes slammed shut as every muscle tensed, and he spilled over Young’s fist and down onto the bed.  He made not a sound, mouth gaping but breath stuck in his chest.  He finally slumped bonelessly against Young with a deep sigh, unconscious. 

Young watched Rush a moment as he lay slack and heedless in his arms.  Then he slowly detached himself and placed Rush carefully under the covers.  He fetched a cloth and cleaned them both and the bed, before easing back behind Rush.  He wrapped his arms over the man’s chest, and looked down on his placid, sleeping features.  Then he hugged him to his chest, tucking his face to the back of Rush’s neck, and breathed deep until he fell asleep. 

He woke to a soft beeping.  Rush’s alarm, he realized, a bit quieter than it had been before.  He didn’t move, the strings of sleep still tugging at his limbs.  Rush, on the other hand, shifted delicately out of his arms, and shut it off.  Young stayed limp against the bed, his eyes opening the tiniest of slivers. 

Rush was sitting on the side of the bed, half-turned over his shoulder towards Young.  There was a long moment, and neither of them moved.  Eventually, Rush stood.  Young heard shuffling as he dressed.  Then, there was another long pause. 

Footsteps, the swish of the door, more footsteps, and then the door again.  Young blinked, and lifted his head, looking out into the empty room. 

He didn’t smile, but as his head fell back to the pillow, there was an odd softness around his eyes.  He rolled over to the center of the bed, brushing where Rush had left the sheets still warm, and slept again. 

Young groaned at the wet heat enveloping his cock.  He lay on his back, Rush straddling his chest.  Rush was faced away from Young, bent forward so that Young could stretch him open and he could suck Young’s cock at the same time.  Which was, for the record, a brilliant idea, Young thought to himself, twisting three fingers in Rush’s ass as Rush took him down his throat.  Rush was not the most skilled mouth he’d ever had on him, but he was definitely the most enthusiastic, and that…that was worth a lot.  Skills could be learned, something Rush seemed absolutely eager to do, but this…Young groaned again.  This was something else. 

He added more lube with his other hand, slipping two fingers in beside the first three.  Rush slid his knees wider, moving up and down Young’s cock as though he needed it just as much as Young did.  Young worked his fingers in and out a few more times, then hooked his fingers and pulled his hands apart, spreading Rush’s hole as far as it would go.  Rush stopped, mouth opening wider around Young’s cock, and moaned.  Young couldn’t hear it, but he felt the vibrations, deep and guttural in Rush’s throat. 

“Alright,” Young said, slightly choked.  He rested his hands on Rush’s ass, and then gave the right cheek a decent smack.  “Up.” 

Rush drew off his cock with a long suck, and sat up with a toss of his head, softly gasping.  Young pushed lightly on the back of Rush’s thighs. 

“Scoot up.” 

Rush braced his hands on Young’s legs and slid his knees forward till he was perched above Young’s cock.  For a moment, Young just enjoyed looking.  Rush’s bruises were starting to fade, more yellows and greens than deep purples, but it was still quite the sight.  Young’s cock lay flat against his stomach, wet and glistening from Rush’s mouth.  Young coated it with lube anyway, and then took it in hand, pointing it straight up.  He placed his other hand on Rush’s ass, pulling at one cheek with his thumb.  He frowned, not getting quite view he wanted.  He supposed it was fine, but…

He dropped his hand. 

“Spread your ass.” 

Rush went still, and then half turned his head. 

“A…wh…?” He stammered, confusion coloring each half-attempted word. 

Young lifted his hands to Rush’s arms, and pulled them back, placing Rush’s hands on the cheeks of his own ass.  Rush paused only a moment, and then pulled them apart.  Young dropped his hands, and looked over Rush again.  Better. 

“Arch your back,” he said, not raising his eyes. 

Rush shifted his weight, just as much nervousness as work to keep his balance was Young’s guess, and arched, leaning forward till he was completely exposed.  Young gave a deep hmming sigh. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” he said, rubbing over Rush’s displayed hole.  Then he placed a hand on Rush’s thigh, and used the other to line up his cock. 

“Down.” 

Rush lowered.  Young helped lead his hole to the tip of Young’s cock.  The first brush made them both shudder, and then Rush was pressing down, impaling himself.  Young let go of his cock and just watched, captivated, as his cock disappeared inside Rush’s willing body.  Inch by inch, Rush took him, hesitating a second here and there, but always bearing down with renewed vigor. 

Young slid his thumb up his cock to where it met Rush’s slick, taut flesh.  Rush moaned, clenching around him, and then pushed down with startling force.  Young was abruptly sheathed inside him, and he gripped Rush’s thigh with a deep groan.  Rush sat against his hips, unmoving, pierced by the full length of Young’s cock. 

“Hands on your head,” Young instructed, when he had command of his voice again. 

Rush released his ass, flexing his fingers, and raised his arms.  He laced his hands together at the back of his head, sitting up straight.  Young ran a finger up his spine, relishing the tight heat that enveloped his erection.  Rush held so still, just the slightest tremor with each breath, you’d almost never know he had a cock up his ass.

Young reached to the side, and picked up his belt from where he’d placed it earlier.  He folded the leather in half, holding it with a fist at each end in front of him. 

He brought his hands in towards each other, and then sharply back out so the belt made a crisp snap. 

Rush flinched, clenching his ass with a startled jump, and Young let out a quiet groan.  He let go of the belt with his left hand, and raised his right, trailing the black leather down Rush’s back.  Rush whimpered and shifted uneasily, but held position.  Young brought back his arm. 

SMACK!

“Move.” 

Rush squeezed his thighs and lifted up.  Young hit him again as he started back down, making him halt and clamp tight around Young’s cock before continuing his descent.  They started up a rhythm, if not quite an even one.  Rush rode him as he whipped his back.  Rush shuddered with every blow, fresh bruises rising to the surface of his skin in rosy reds and plums. 

Young stepped-up his pace and Rush cried out in startled distress.  He was having a hard time keeping up, his movements growing slower and shallower.  Finally, Young struck him just as he was rising and he dropped back down with a whimper, head falling down toward his chest.  Now he struggled to even stay upright, swaying forward, spine curling, as the blows continued to fall. 

Young bent his knees, bringing them up and setting his feet flat against the bed. 

“You can hold on to my legs,” he said almost lazily. 

Tremors running through his frame, Rush leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Young’s knees.  Young felt Rush’s erection brush against his thigh as he settled. 

It was a good thing Rush enjoyed this as much as he did, Young thought, his own hard-on still buried in Rush’s ass.  If he didn’t…Young didn’t want to think about that, as he looked over the colorful mess he’d made of Rush’s back. 

He started up again, this time with greater force, really laying into Rush’s trembling form.  Rush started crying out, hugging Young’s legs to his chest as he screamed, clenching and quivering around Young’s cock.  Even as he shouted and flinched though, Rush lengthened his spine, displaying himself in a way Young had only ever seen him do since all this had began.  Rush, despite his ego, usually appeared oddly closed in, somehow curled around himself.  Hiding, with his shoulders slightly hunched, hair in his face, peering out in a way that was always somewhat skittish, as though he were ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger.  Against all reason, here, like this, he seemed to unfurl.    

Young dropped his arm to the bed and panted into the room, heart thudding in his chest and sweat beading on his skin.  Rush just waited, not saying a word.  The bruises weren’t as dark or pronounced as the last time, but they had their own hazy beauty, staining Rush’s skin like watercolors. 

After a long moment, Young unfolded the belt.  He wound one end around his hand till it was the length he wanted it, and then brushed the other end along Rush’s back.  Rush twitched at the touch of the buckle against his skin. 

“Where do you want it?” Young asked him, swirling indistinct, wandering lines on Rush’s body. 

There was a pause, and then Rush turned to look over his shoulder.  There was confusion in his eyes, though they were still clear enough that Young could tell he was just confused about the question, and not that he couldn’t answer. 

“Here, like before?” Young elaborated, pressing the buckle against Rush’s right butt cheek.  “Or somewhere else?” 

Rush’s eyes turned inward, tracking back and forth intently.  Then, haltingly, he lifted his right hand over the back of his right shoulder, touching his fingers against the smooth muscle.   

“Here,” he said, eying Young cautiously, speaking barely above a whisper.

Young glanced at the spot, and gave a curt nod.  Rush gave a little trembling nod back, and lowered his hand, turning away.  He let his right arm fall to his side, and pulled his hair over the other shoulder with his left, then turned his face to the left as well, tucking his chin.  He held the back of his neck just under his skull with his left hand.  Then he waited. 

It was a tricky spot, from this angle, and Young didn’t want to hit him in the head or the neck, or even the shoulder blade for that matter.  Still…Young tilted his head.  He could do it. 

Young raised his arm, watching Rush’s ribcage expand and compress.  He lifted his eyes.  The place Rush had indicated, and was now presenting to him, was mostly unmarked. 

Young smirked. 

He struck, controlling mostly with his wrist for precision, and suddenly everything exploded.  Rush let out a howling shriek and went taut as a wire, tensing all through his body and squeezing Young tight as a vice.  Young’s hips bucked as he arched clear off the bed, even with Rush’s weight, and came.  He didn’t know if he cried out or not, his ears full of Rush’s scream. 

He slumped back to the bed, spent.  His heart felt like it might burst from his chest as he gasped for breath, blinking stars from his eyes. 

Rush was huddled against Young’s knees, whimpering, his left arm wrapped around Young’s shins while his right hand clutched feebly at Young’s thigh.  He was still hard, his erection pressed against Young’s legs.  There was a fresh bruise forming on the back of his right shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” Young asked, lump in his throat. 

Rush turned over his shoulder, and looked at Young, eyes wet. 

He grinned.  “Fantastic.”

Young let out a sigh, which sounded more than a little like a groan, and chuckled, shaking his head.  He really should know better by now.  In a way, there was a part of him that wasn’t even surprised about all this; if there was ever a man prone to extremes, it was Rush.  As for himself…how well did anyone really know themselves?  How can you know what you would really do until the situation is staring you in the face?  He left his belt beside him on the bed, and placed his hands at Rush’s hips. 

“Up,” he said, urging with his fingers. 

Rush rose on his knees, still supporting himself on Young’s legs.  Young’s softening cock slipped from Rush’s hole, and Young spread the cheeks of Rush’s ass.  He rubbed down the crack with his thumb, fondling the puckered entrance.  He pulled Rush’s cheeks apart, wide as they would go, and eyed Rush’s opening.   

“Let it out,” he commanded after a minute, when Rush’s ass stayed stubbornly clenched.

A pause, and then there was a puff of air against his knees.  “You’re serious?” Rush said, incredulous. 

Young didn’t answer, just dug his thumbs into the insides of Rush’s cheeks, and pulled at them harder.  He heard Rush hiss through his teeth. 

“Okay, okay,” Rush said quickly, panting.  “Just…okay.” 

There was a long pause, and then a soft, building, keening sound.  A moment later, Rush’s hole flared, and Young’s cum poured out.  It landed in drops over Young’s groin, covering his cock and balls in creamy fluid.  Young massaged his fingers into the globes of Rush’s ass, watching with self-satisfied attention.  When he was empty, Young reached a hand between Rush’s legs and wrapped it around Rush’s hard cock.  Rush gave a soft gasp, shuddering. 

“Hands back on your head,” Young told Rush coolly, withdrawing. 

Rush moved slowly, pushing himself up from the support of Young’s knees.  He sat up, straightening his back, and replaced his hands to the back of his skull.  He was trembling slightly, clearly less steady than he’d been in the beginning.  Young stretched his legs out in front of him and picked up the belt again.  He unfolded it, and sat up a bit to slip it around Rush’s front.  He leaned back, holding an end in each hand, and pulled it taut across Rush’s ribs.  He slid the belt down along Rush’s stomach, and then lower, over his hips.  He saw the flinch in Rush’s frame when it caught on his cock.  Slowly, Young used the belt to press Rush’s hard cock to hang down between his legs.  Then he buckled it, pulling the belt tight around Rush’s hips.  On a whim, he slipped the loose end through the keeper, settling the buckle in the center of Rush’s ass. 

Rush was so tense, he was almost vibrating, apprehension coming off of him in waves.  Young took hold of the buckle, sliding a hand between it and Rush’s skin.  He gave a little pull, not enough to unbalance the man, and listened to the low whine Rush let out from the back of his throat. 

He brought his other hand to Rush’s ass and wormed two fingers between his cheeks.  First, he just teased, brushing over the soft skin with barely a tickle and watching the muscles of Rush’s thighs and buttocks writhe and shake.  Then he found Rush’s hole, and pushed in to the first knuckle.  A moment to savor how wet and open Rush was, and he plunged in.  He fucked hard and fast, and soon Rush was squirming and filling the room with desperate shouts.  Once Rush tried to fuck back against his fingers, but a single don’t from Young and he stopped, letting Young have complete control of the assault on his ass. 

There was a series of frenzied ah ah ahs, and then Rush screamed, pulling his chin to his chest and spilling himself on Young’s crotch.  He was breathing hard through the aftershocks, fingers and thighs clenched tight, but he managed to stay upright.  Young wiped his fingers on Rush’s leg, and undid the buckle of his belt, setting it aside.  Sighing, he looked up at Rush.  He pressed both palms against the mounds of Rush’s ass, rubbing in idle circles. 

“Alright,” he said after a minute.  He pulled lightly at Rush’s left thigh and helped him swing it over Young’s body.  Rush settled on both knees, dropping his arms to his sides exhaustedly, and sat back on his heels.  His chest was heaving, head bowed with his hair fallen into his face.  Young reached up a hand and pushed the damp strands back from Rush’s profile.  Then he tucked his hands behind his own head on the pillow in an almost parody of Rush’s former position. 

“Clean me up,” he said smoothly, letting his legs fall open just slightly. 

Rush glanced at him wearily, but nodded.  He dropped his eyes, and maneuvered between Young’s knees.  Then, tossing his hair back from his face, he lowered his head. 

Young moaned, eyes closing, as Rush lapped at him.  He started with Young’s hips and thighs, and then licked over his cock.  Young wasn’t quite ready to go again, though his cock gave an encouraging twitch anyway at Rush’s warm, wet strokes.  When that was clean, Rush lifted it and ran his tongue over Young’s scrotum.  Finally, Rush slid fingers through coarse hair, scooping up globules of cum and depositing them in his mouth.  When he was finished, he sat up, gasping softly from between pink and glistening lips.  He peeked at Young from under his eyelashes, and waited. 

Young gazed a moment, and then gestured, beckoning.  Rush crawled up his body, and settled against his chest, knees tucked into Young’s sides.  Young wrapped his arms around Rush’s back and Rush laid his cheek on Young’s shoulder, his hands held in loose fists against Young’s ribcage. 

They lay there, breathing against each other.  Young had actually thought to move the covers aside this time, so all he had to do was reach over and pull the blankets on top of them, but he hesitated.  There was a low itch under his skin, and when he looked down he saw Rush’s eyes were open, staring out into the room.  He ran a hand down the muscles of Rush’s back, and it wasn’t that Rush was tense exactly, but…  

Young reached for the belt.  It was obvious that Rush noticed him do it, though he hardly moved.  Young folded the belt in half, and then gripped it near the middle, keeping the strap short.  He brought his left hand to Rush’s left butt cheek, and pulled up.  Deliberately, he laid the strap of the belt against the underside of Rush’s cheek, just where it met the thigh.  Rush’s fingers curled, and he shifted, tucking his face further into Young’s chest. 

SMACK!

Rush flinched, and then cringed, mewling.  Young struck again, and then again.  There was little pause between blows as Young hit with a rapid flurry of tiny motions.  He kept a tight grip of Rush’s ass with his other hand, keeping hold of his target as Rush squirmed against him, whining.  Rush’s bottom half wiggled up and down and all around, while his upper body just tried to burrow into Young, hands held tight against Young’s sides as though he were a life preserver.

Young gave one last firm blow, and then stopped.  Rush was sniveling into his chest.  He could feel Rush’s cock twitch against his hip, and his own cock wasn’t disinterested either, but…he looked down at Rush’s hair, face hidden as he whimpered. 

He took hold of Rush’s hair with his left hand, and lifted.  Rush raised his head obediently.  His cheeks were wet, lips trembling.  Young released his hair and took hold of Rush’s chin in two fingers, tilting up.  He gazed at Rush sternly and, after a moment, Rush swallowed and gave a slight nod. 

Young let go of Rush’s chin, and Rush kept his head up, bringing his hands to rest on Young’s chest underneath him.  Young grabbed Rush’s right butt cheek, and pulled up.  Rush’s face crumpled, and he bit his lip to hold back a sob.  Young placed the belt against the underside, and Rush squeezed his eyes shut with a whine, hips undulating as his cock began to harden.

SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!

Rush cried out from between his teeth and threw his head back.  He dug his nails into Young’s chest and wailed, arching his back and thrusting up into the abuse.  Young’s cock grew hard and heavy, and he paused his assault, clenching Rush’s ass and forcing it down till their erections rubbed against each other.  They both groaned, and Rush rolled his hips into Young’s.  Their cocks slid together, hot and hard, and Young felt a building energy deep in his lower belly.  He pushed at Rush’s ass, guiding him into a rhythm, and Rush agreeably rutted against him, undulating in rippling waves of pleasure. 

Young wrapped his arm around Rush’s back and started beating his ass with almost reckless abandon.  He slammed the belt against the smooth curves as they bounced up and down against his hips.  Rush gasped and cried out sharply but only quickened his pace.  Young found his hand back in Rush’s hair, and pulled him closer.  Rush’s eyes were closed, but his mouth was open wide, pointed moans falling in urgent, ecstatic bursts.  Rush’s hands skated rampantly over Young’s chest, stroking over Young’s nipples with his thumbs in a way that could easily have been accidental.  Young’s grip in Rush’s hair tightened, and he brought their mouths together, hard enough to make their teeth clatter.  He held Rush there, mouths open to each other, and struck down with renewed force.  Rush screamed and Young swallowed the sound, drinking it like it was the only thing that could quench his thirst.  He plunged his tongue into Rush’s mouth as he struck again, and Rush sucked on it, moaning.  Something wet slid down Young’s face to his lips and he tasted salt, and he only snarled against Rush’s mouth and ravaged his ass all the more. 

It was a actually a quiet moment between blows, when they’d pulled back just enough to gasp for breath, their erections pressed together between their stomachs, that they came, together, quaking against each other as cum erupted from their cocks.  Their lips were still touching as they came down, and they kissed lazily, sucking at each other’s lips with indulgence.  When they pulled away, Rush’s mouth was parted and swollen, saliva trailing from the bottom lip.  Young struck his ass one more time just to watch that lip quiver, then dropped the belt on the bed and flexed his aching hand. 

Rush’s eyelids were drooping, and really, so were Young’s.  He brought Rush’s head down to his shoulder and pulled the covers over them.  Rush sagged against him, and he wrapped his arms around Rush’s back, his own eyes already falling closed.  A pause, and he lowered one hand to Rush’s ass, cupping it.  Rush breathed in, and let out a single soft moan.  His breathing was even after that, and Young let out a sigh of his own.  He was asleep before his next inhale. 

A soft beeping pervaded Young’s consciousness.  He groaned softly, not quite waking.  The warm body above him shifted, and then started to pull away. 

Suddenly, Young was very awake. 

They both let out simultaneous hisses followed by pained ack type noises. 

“Shite,” Rush whispered. 

Young forced his eyes open.  Rush was pushed up on his elbows, looking down between their bodies.  Young followed his gaze, and then dropped his head to the pillow with a groan. 

“I suppose we deserve this,” Rush muttered ironically. 

Young ran a hand over his face, smothering his frustration.  With one arm, he managed to reach over and turn off Rush’s damned alarm, dropping the phone back to the bedside table with a sigh.  

“Okay, let’s just…” he said, resigned. 

Young reached his hands between them and started trying to detach them from where their dried cum had virtually glued them together.  Rush braced on one elbow, and did his best to help with one hand. 

“Sorry,” Young said as Rush winced at another tugged hair.  “I should’ve…this is my fault,” he sighed ruefully.

“Oh, I agree,” Rush said promptly.  Young snorted. 

“Right,” he said dryly.  “Cause you had,” he grunted.  “Nothing to do with this.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who started things up again,” Rush retorted with a pointed look.  Then he smirked, tongue darting out over his lips.  “And after I got you all cleaned up, too,” he scolded, teasing.  “How unthoughtful.” 

Young chuckled in spite of himself.   

Finally, they pulled apart, and Rush let out a relieved sigh, falling onto his back beside Young.  He immediately winced, groaning. 

“You gonna be alright?” Young asked, keeping his tone even.

Rush made a little ‘eh’ expression.  “Well, sitting’s not going to be comfortable for a while.”  He peered at Young from the corner of his eye, one side of his mouth curving up.  “Though I’m starting to get used to that.” 

“Hm.”  There were too many paths to go on that one, and Young had absolutely no idea which one he wanted to take.  He had an old habit; when he didn’t know what it was he was he wanted to say, and was afraid of saying something wrong, he’d just find a way to not say anything. 

Rush’s eyes flicked down, and then he turned, rolling to sit on the edge of the bed.  There was a low hiss, and then he stretched his arms above his head.  Without meaning to, Young’s eyes slid appreciatively over Rush’s back and buttocks.  It was only a moment, and then Rush stood, rolling his neck, and made for his clothes.  He made a slight detour to check his back in the mirror, a self-satisfied smile playing at his lips, and then he was pulling on his shorts and pants, wincing only slightly.

“God, I need a shower,” Rush grumbled, doing up his fly.  Young laughed. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Young agreed, stretching his arms.  “So,” he started conversationally.  “What is it that you find so appealing about the hours of two and three in the morning?”

“No people,” Rush answered, tucking in his shirt. 

Young let out a dry puff of air.  “Wow, didn’t even have to think that one over, huh?” 

Rush threw his hands up with an irritated sigh, glaring at Young helplessly.  “What do you want me to say?” 

Young took in a breath, and then let it out.  “Nothing.  I was just…making conversation.” 

Rush’s face flickered.  He bent over to pull on his shoes, and then gathered his phone and radio, not meeting Young’s eyes.  He stood by the bed, and for a moment Young thought he might say something.  Then he turned without a word, and left the room.      

Chapter Text

Young made for the showers himself not long after Rush left, not able to get back to sleep. He ran a few laps, showered again and then, since it was approaching a reasonable hour, headed to the mess hall. There were already a few early risers milling about. Young was seated with a plate before he noticed Rush in the corner. Rush sat, eating mechanically, eyes cast downward at nothing in particular. Somehow though, Young thought he seemed to sense Young’s scrutiny. After a moment, his eyes flicked up toward Young for just a second before turning down again without a single change in expression. Not even his chewing slowed.

Then, in what would appear an unconscious shift in weight to anyone else, he straightened his back and sort of…swirled his hips against the bench underneath him. The back of Young’s throat went dry. There was no other motion from Rush after that. He just went on eating his breakfast like nothing had happened. Suddenly, his eyes flicked up again, locking with Young’s, and though his lips didn’t move, Young got the definite impression he was smirking. A moment later, he’d turned back to his food, and if his chewing seemed a little more self-satisfied, well, maybe it was Young’s imagination.

Young started in on his own meal, and Rush got up to leave a few minutes later.

Young tried to keep his attention on what Brody was telling him about the progress on energy weapons, and not on where Rush was working quietly at a console, appearing utterly oblivious to anything else. He nodded when Brody finished talking and told him to keep working on it. Brody walked away.

Young took a breath, hands behind his back, about to head out and move on with his day, when Rush raised a hand to the back of his shoulder and rubbed. His eyes fluttered closed for just a second and he breathed out a voiceless groan. He’d made the same motion a hundred times, working at knots at the side of his neck, except now…now Young happened to have certain information about that particular spot. Specifically, about a buckle-shaped bruise that now decorated that particular spot.

That sly bastard.

Rush’s glanced to the side, peering at Young out of the corner of his eye for just a hairsbreadth too long, fingers still working at the muscles of his shoulder, and then looked back to his work. He rolled his shoulder, stretching his neck to one side, and then dropped his arm. Young’s eyes narrowed. Oh, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.

Young smirked.

It wasn’t until after lunch that he found an opportunity to get Rush alone. With Volker and Eli on planet, and Park working in the gate room, and Brody making repairs elsewhere, Rush was the only one left in the control interface room. Young watched him a moment, unnoticed, as Rush bent over a console and then scribbled on his notepad. He flipped it closed, pushing back from the console and turning when he spotted Young and froze mid-motion. His eyes flicked back and forth, uncertain, still clutching the notepad.

“I…” Rush started. “Was there something you wanted, Colonel?”

Young sauntered over to him, stopping less than a foot away. He lifted a hand, right corner of his mouth twitching, and crooked a finger as though he wanted to share a secret. Hesitant, Rush leaned in, inclining his head. Swiftly, Young took a step forward and to the side so he and Rush were shoulder to shoulder, and gave Rush a hard smack on his ass.

Rush let out a strangled gasp and practically jumped. Young leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Don’t be late tonight,” he warned, low and growling.

Rush’s mouth hung open, panting, and his eyes slid to the side, staring at Young with something between shock and indignation. Then his jaw clenched, and he swallowed, dropping his eyes.

Young turned on his heel and walked away, holding back a smile.

Rush wasn’t late. Well, not for him anyway.

“Strip,” Young commanded. He turned, moving to the bed and not bothering to see if he was obeyed. He pulled up the covers from one side of the bed, folding it over the other side. He stroked down the sheet underneath, and looked at Rush. “Lie down on your back, hands over your head.”

Rush walked to the bed, naked and already growing hard, and did as he was told. He winced slightly as his bruised skin made contact, but nonetheless laid himself out. Young looked over him, and then began to undress. He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, and rubbed himself through his underwear, bringing his half-hard cock to full mast. He knelt onto the bed, and then swung a leg over Rush, straddling his shoulders. He pulled himself out, and stroked, watching Rush’s eyes track over his movements. He ran a thumb down the side of Rush’s face, and roughly over his lips.

“Open your mouth.”

Rush’s eyes locked with his. A beat, and Rush’s mouth opened. Young leaned forward. He took hold of Rush’s wrists, pinning him to the bed, and then he fucked his face. Rush’s eyes rolled up in his head and he moaned, opening his throat and letting Young thrust into him unencumbered. Rush was wriggling underneath him, but not to get away. Young was aware of Rush’s legs writhing behind him in blind arousal.

Young paid him no attention. He fucked into the wet heat of Rush’s mouth, letting his own need drive him, giving in to instinct and the primal urge for more and faster. He came down Rush’s throat, relishing the feel of Rush’s desperate swallows around his cock. He withdrew and Rush turned his head to the side, coughing, face red.

Young put himself away and moved off of him. He sat beside Rush on the bed and took note of Rush’s cock lying bloated against his stomach. He raised his eyes to Rush’s face.

“Goodnight,” he said, and started to move under the covers.

At first Rush blinked stupidly, and then he groaned, throwing his head back against the bed.

“You can’t be serious,” Rush complained, squirming. Young just fluffed his pillows, and shot him a look. “Why?”

“Like I need a reason,” Young drawled. Rush huffed. “But, since you asked…” he turned on his side, holding his head up on one hand and stared down at Rush. “I thought you were getting a bit cheeky.”

Rush’s mouth fell open, not quite sputtering.

“And, just to be clear,” Young went. “No, you can’t move from that position till I say. And, you can’t come unless I say either, so no tricks.” He made that last point with stern wag of his finger.

“That’s not fair,” Rush whined, glaring at him.  

Young raised an eyebrow. “If we were playing fair,” he said plainly. “This would be a very different game.”

Rush glared at him a moment longer, and then pointedly looked away. He blew a loose hair out of his face, grumbling, and pushed out his lower lip.

“Are you pouting?” Young demanded after a moment.

“I think I’ve a right to pout,” Rush retorted, turning his face away with a mutter. “Considering.”  

Young fought the urge to roll his eyes, and started to turn to his other side. “Friendly word of advice,” he said dryly, rearranging his pillows. “You might want to try another tactic.”

“Oh, should I apologize?” Rush said sarcastically. “I’m so very sorry, I promise to have a much better attitude in the future.”  

Young shot him an un-amused look over his shoulder, and settled down. He pulled up the blankets and shut his eyes. He could feel Rush squirming next to him, his legs shifting one way and the other, probably trying to fight his arousal. Then he stilled, and Young sensed more than heard the inhaled breath.

“There are a very specific set of words I am willing to hear from you right now,” Young said flatly, cutting off whatever Rush had been about to say. “Otherwise, you better not keep me up.”

Rush was silent, and after a moment Young heard a soft clack of teeth that indicated he’d closed his mouth. Young sighed out a deep breath, and drifted off to sleep.

He woke some time later, easing gently into consciousness. He was hard. He turned onto his back, and looked to his side.

Rush was just as he’d left him. His eyes were hooded under his lids, but he was clearly awake. He kept mostly still, shifting only slightly on his back, rolling his shoulders, or curling his fingers above his head, giving a tiny bend to one knee before straitening it again. Fidgeting, which probably had to do with the stiff and hard cock against his stomach. Young didn’t know if he’d stayed hard all this time, or if his erection had flagged only to flare up again, but it hardly mattered.

He looked miserable.

Young swung his leg over Rush in a single smooth motion, and took out his cock. He pressed the tip against Rush’s closed lips.

“Open.”

Rush raised his eyes, looking up at Young with big brown orbs that would have put Bambi to shame.

He opened his mouth.

Young plunged in, moaning as his cock was wrapped in the warm, moist cavern of Rush’s mouth. He took Rush’s wrists in a bruising grip and thrust greedily. But for the wide eyes staring up at him, he might have been fucking a hole in the mattress. He came down Rush’s throat, staying there, sunk to the hilt, for a moment or so longer than he needed to. He pulled out slowly, sitting up on Rush’s chest. Rush coughed once, spitting up cum. His lips gave a tremor, not quite closing, and he gazed up at Young with mournful hope. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

Young put himself away and moved off of Rush. Rush kept their eyes locked together, silently pleading.

That wasn’t good enough.

Young turned away. Young saw Rush’s face crumple, eyes squeezing shut, the second before his back was turned. He lay down, pulled the covers up to his shoulder, and closed his eyes. The minutes ticked by, and Young started to think Rush was actually going to let him fall asleep again.

“Please.”

Young opened his eyes. He rolled over onto his elbow, and looked down at Rush.    

“Please,” Rush said again, quiet and trembling. “Please let me, please.” Rush looked up at him, imploring. His lips were twisted as he tried not to cry.

“Let you what?” Young said unsympathetically. Rush’s eyes closed and he threw his head back, biting back a sob. He opened them again, and looked up, capitulating.

“Let me come,” Rush said, barely audible. “Please.”

Young’s eyes flicked over Rush’s face.

“And why should I do that?” he asked idly.

“I—” Rush’s breath hitched, and he looked about helplessly. He turned back to Young. “…I’ll do anything,” he promised, every fiber of him dripping with desperation.

“You’ll do that anyway,” Young countered, unimpressed. Rush squeezed his eyes shut again and let out a shaking sob.

“Please,” he choked, eyes still closed. “Please, I’m begging you, just let me, let me come, please.”

Young let out a thoughtful sigh. “You think you deserve that?” Rush opened his eyes and looked up at him. Tears tracked down his cheeks. Young kept his voice even. “You think you’ve earned that?”

Rush went silent, and then he bit his lips. He gave a slow shake of his head. “No,” he said woefully, and very, very quiet. “No, but…let me anyway. Please.” Fresh tears slipped from his eyes.

Young leaned in close, not touching, but near enough to feel the warmth radiating from Rush’s skin.

“So,” Young murmured lowly. “You want me to, what?” He breathed into Rush’s face. “Have pity on you?”

Rush stared straight into his eyes. He blinked once, then twice, and then he gave one tiny nod as a crease formed between his brows. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”

Young studied Rush’s face, assessing, searching for any sliver of insincerity. After a moment, he nodded.

“Okay,” Young said, pulling back. “Go ahead.”

Rush let out a sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut as he slumped back into the bed. A beat, and turned to look at Young lying languidly next to him. His eyes tracked down Young’s form, and then his own, catching up quickly.

“You…you’re not going to…?” Rush asked, with just a twinge of hope. Young shook his head. “An…and I can’t…?” he clenched the fingers of his hands, still held on the bed above him. Young shook his head again. Rush threw his head back against the mattress, squeezing his eyes tight with a frustrated sob.

“Aw, come on now,” Young soothed mockingly. “You didn’t have any trouble with that before.”

Rush chest rose and fell as he pushed air out through his parted lips. A series of breaths, and then his jaw clicked. He turned his eyes onto Young, then followed with his head so they were face to face. He tracked over Young’s features, and then stared straight into his eyes. A long moment stretched out in which everything felt profoundly still and Young could see his reflection in Rush’s blown pupils.

Then, Rush’s tongue darted out and licked up a drop of cum from the corner of his mouth.

Young sucked in a breath.

“Did you ever think,” Rush started, soft, tongue clicking on the last syllable. “Before.” He glanced away. “Did you ever imagine,” and then his eyes rose back to Young’s. “That I’d make such a good whore for you?”

Young breathed out slow through his nose, chest thumping. Rush tilted up his chin and ran his tongue across the bottom of his teeth.

“‘Get on your knees,’” Rush parroted, each word falling heavily into the air. “‘Get on your back.’ ‘Roll over.’ ‘Open your mouth,’ ‘spread your legs.’” His eyes kept flicking from Young’s lips to his eyes. “You can…” he murmured, hushed and indistinct. “…Use me, however you want.” His eyes locked with Young’s. “As much as you want.” He gave care to each word, sliding around the consonants indulgently. “You could fuck me bloody,” he said lowly, lifting his head as though he were being drawn into Young’s eyes, his own growing fierce.   “Make me choke on your cock, fill me up with your cum, and all. I will be. Is grateful.”

Young descended, crashing their mouths together and thrusting his tongue into Rush. Rush opened to him readily, swallowing him down. Young fisted a hand in Rush’s hair and was dimly aware of Rush arching off the bed, writhing jerkingly as he wailed into Young’s mouth.

He plundered Rush, claiming every nook and cranny. His left hand yanked on Rush’s hair and he brought his right to Rush’s jaw, forcing his mouth open wider. He tasted bitter salt, what was probably his own cum, but underneath that there was Rush and he dug deeper, trying to catch hold of that elusive, un-definable flavor. He traced Rush’s tongue with the tip of his own, around the edge and then down along the sensitive, hidden places underneath. He sucked hard on Rush’s lower lip, drawing back slowly. Rush moaned as he pulled away, his lip still trapped in Young’s mouth. Young let it go with a soft pop, and then gave it a quick nip with his teeth, because how could he not? He let his hands loosen their holds, but kept them in place as he stared down at Rush.

They were both panting, inches apart. Rush’s eyelids fluttered as tremors jolted through his frame in bursts. He swallowed thickly and began to still, eyes blinking at a more even pace.

Young turned his head and looked down Rush’s body. Cum was splattered over Rush’s thighs and lower belly, his cock lying limp and spent between his legs. Young turned back to Rush and fixed him with an amused glower.

“You cheated,” he admonished, but his voice lacked venom, rumbling pleasantly in his chest.

Rush eyes flicked over to him. He was still breathing rather hard, but he met Young’s gaze steadily.

“If we were playing fair,” Rush retorted, crisp and breathless. “This would be a very different game.”

Young felt something dark and warm grow behind his eyes. He pushed himself up, and moved again to sit astride Rush’s chest. His arousal was obvious, pushing obscenely at the fabric of his boxers, and he stared down with pleased affection at Rush staring fixedly at this looming evidence. He took himself out slowly, pulling his boxers down around his thighs. He was fully erect. He'd been growing hard since Rush first licked that cum from his mouth. He leaned forward, again taking Rush’s forearms in his hands to brace himself. He lined his cock with Rush’s lips. This angle really did make him look quite large, and he wondered how it must look from Rush’s perspective, to have this cock bearing down on him.

“Open your mouth,” Young said, not unaware of Rush having so recently recited those words.

Rush’s eyes met Young’s, something stark yet unreadable in them. His lips parted and stretched as if they were being tugged and held open by invisible fingers, forcing him wide. Young slid inside and Rush’s stayed as he was, cool and immutable. He laved at Young’s cock with his tongue as Young fucked him, working with the rhythm of Young’s thrusts in some kind of pornographically coordinated dance. Rush’s gaze had turned much more seductive, glaring up at Young from sultry, hooded eyes. This was the third time he’d had Rush’s mouth tonight, but somehow this time it seemed as though that wet cavern had grown hotter, swathing him in a rich, tropic, volcanic heat.

He felt his orgasm coming, and he let it build slowly, wanting to savor this. He pulled out some, pumping shallowly into the hollow of Rush’s cheeks, finding pleasant contrast in the heat of Rush’s mouth around half of his cock, and the cool air that hit the other, freshly damp with Rush’s spit. He could see the bulge of his cock against the inside of Rush’s cheek, not to mention his stuffed, stretched lips. Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Don’t swallow,” he ordered as he started to come. Rush’s eyes flickered with something like confusion, but he did as he was told. Soon, the cavern of Rush’s mouth was filling up, and Young stroked along his cock, squeezing every drop into him. With a low, groaning sigh, he spent himself. He could feel knots uncoiling at the back of his neck as his orgasm rode through him, leaving him loose and tingling. He sat back on his heels, and stretched his shoulders, eyes closing in contentment. A moment later, he opened them again, and looked down.

Rush lay there with his mouth open, breathing carefully through his nose. He held the cum in his mouth adequately, though a few drops slid out and trailed down his jaw. Young tilted his head thoughtfully. He pulled up his boxers, and placed his hands, palms down, on his thighs. Then he reached out a hand. He laid his index finger across Rush’s mouth as though he were shushing him, and ran it smoothly down Rush’s open lips. He dipped his finger into the thick cum in Rush’s mouth, pulling it out without touching the border of Rush’s lips. He let the string of cum that followed drag down Rush’s chin, and placed the side of his finger under it. He smoothly shut Rush’s mouth, and then pulled away, wiping his finger on Rush’s neck. Gently, he brushed stray hairs from Rush’s face, and sat back, again resting his hands on his thighs.

“Spit.”

Young stared down impassively, back straight. Rush blinked, jaw clenching. His eyes skittered anxiously and his lips pressed together so hard they were almost shaking. There was a fight going on behind his eyes. It was hard to discern a pattern, of what Rush would take to easily and what gave him pause. Sometimes, it seemed to Young that he could guess—guess what would be pushing, but he wasn’t always right. Even now, in this moment, he couldn’t really know what was happening in Rush’s head. Was he trying to make himself obey? Trying not to? Young watched, heart thumping in his chest, waiting to see what would win out. Either way…Young felt a thrill run down the center of his body. There was really no bad way for this to go. Whatever Rush did, it would be something to see.

Just then, Rush took a deep breath in through his nose. Young held him in his gaze with rapt attention, a warm hunger building in his belly. Rush lowered his eyes.

He spit the cum up between pursed lips, shutting his eyes tight and wincing as it fell in globs upon his face. He gave two shallow coughs, and then inhaled through his mouth. He swallowed once as the muscles of his face worked spasmodically. His lips and tongue trembled with every breath.

Young made a pleased hum as the milky glop dribbled and stuck on Rush’s features. Young’s eyes fell half-closed, a kind of satisfied sleepyness settling into him. He climbed off Rush, and knelt beside him. They shared a look, and then Young put a hand to Rush’s side. He coaxed him to roll to his side, just enough to reveal his backside. It was bright red, and spotted with dusky crimson bruises. Young pulled back his arm and gave it a firm, solid smack. Rush flinched, ass muscles clenching. When Young rolled him back over, he peeked at Young from under demurely downcast eyes, chewing lightly on his bottom lip. Young slid under the blankets and unfolded the covers over Rush’s side of the bed. He pulled them neatly up to Rush’s chest and tucked a pillow behind Rush’s neck, then nestled down beside him.

“Sleep,” he told Rush with a pointed look. Rush let out a deep sigh, and seemed to relax. His eyes drifted closed, and soon his features softened as he breathed evenly in and out. Young laid his head down and turned onto his stomach. He flung an arm across Rush’s chest like a kid with a ragdoll, and went to sleep.

Beep beep beep

Rush blinked blearily awake. He was on his back, hands over his head, in Young’s bed. Young was sleeping next to him, tucked into Rush’s side with one arm laid over his abdomen. Rush’s back and buttocks were sore, his shoulders were starting to ache, and there was cum still stuck to his groin and face.

Beep beep beep

He glanced toward his phone, fingers curling, then down at Young’s dark mop of hair. He didn’t have permission to move, technically, and there was something in him that held to that order despite—

Beep beep beep

Before he had too much more time to contemplate one way or the other, Young stirred. He groaned lowly and slid along the bed, head down. He reached for Rush’s phone, and turned off the alarm. He let out a deep sigh, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up. He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. Then he stood.

He picked up his trousers and pulled them on and Rush watched him from his spot on he bed, not sure if he should say anything. He settled on silence as Young returned. He held a bowl of water and a cloth. He flung back the blankets covering Rush with a flick of his wrist, and Rush inhaled sharply at the sudden exposure.

Young dipped the cloth in the water and brought it to Rush’s face. The water was cool, and it pushed the last edges of sleep from Rush’s eyes. He watched Young’s face as he worked, solemn and intent. He made sure to get every trace, even on Rush’s neck and chest. Then he moved down Rush’s body.

The first touch to his thighs and Rush hissed, almost flinching.

“‘Cold,” he said aloud, shuddering. Young glanced up at him, blandly and without sympathy. Rush dropped his eyes. He bit his lip when Young wiped over his cock, but kept quiet.

Young rubbed cum from Rush’s belly, thighs and genitals, and then sat back and rinsed the cloth.

“Spread your legs,” he said, wringing the cloth out between his hands. A moment passed, and he lifted his head and looked at Rush expectantly.

Rush didn’t move. Then, slowly, jerkingly, he bent his knees and slid open his legs. Young settled between them, and started rubbing at the cum that had slipped down to Rush’s inner thighs and buttocks. Rush’s hips shifted discomfitedly discomfitedly. Indeed, there was something deeply uncomfortable about this. Rush was keenly, painfully aware of his vulnerability, as Young wiped over his arse. But it was also somewhat, strangely—Rush cringed at the word—nice.

Young finished, and rose, taking the water back to the nook in the wall. Rush stayed as he was, skin already drying in the open air. He felt…clean.

“Roll over,” Young instructed when he came back.

Keeping his arms in place but straightening his legs, Rush rolled to his stomach. He didn’t even bother asking why inside his own mind.

Firm fingers dug into the joint of his right shoulder, and Rush moaned as the stiff ache there began to dissipate. Young massaged down Rush’s arm, all the way down to his fingers, leaving the whole limb loose and pleasantly warm. He moved Rush’s arm down, bending it at the elbow, and placed the hand carefully at the small of Rush’s back. Then he moved to the other arm, and repeated the whole process.

Rush’s eyes were closed as he let Young work, the warmth in his arms spreading through his chest and down to his belly. Young settled the left hand next to the right at the small of Rush’s back with a light squeeze before letting go, and sat back. A moment later, there was a firm smack to Rush’s rear end.

“Okay,” Young said with finality, standing up. Rush turned his head to look at him.

“I take it I’m free to go, then?” he asked, lightly sardonic. Young tossed him a crooked smile and a shrug, and walked off.

Rush rolled his shoulders with a moan and pushed up on his elbows. He looked over his shoulder. Young was standing in front of the mirror, shaving. Rush watched him, feeling warm and refreshed and more awake than he could remember being in a while, and lingered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He did. He had things to do, interesting problems to examine, and he was looking forward to that. It was just that…he also wanted to stay.

He rose slowly, taking his time. His eyes never left Young. He had this odd desire to do something for him, to offer him…anything. But if Young had wanted something sexual, he would have taken it, wouldn’t he? And it didn’t really mean much to offer him something Rush had already given him free reign over. As for other things, Rush couldn’t bring himself to do that. It felt too vulnerable, too real, to offer something…else.

Rush walked to his clothes, left haphazardly on the floor. He bent to pick up his trousers, and then suddenly changed intention. He plucked up his underwear instead, and standing swiftly, he sauntered over to Young.

Young was brushing stray bristles from his face with a towel, but turned to Rush as he approached. Rush held up his pants by the waistband with two fingers, giving them a slight twirl.

“You want me to wear these today?” he asked innocently, though he was sure his expression as anything but.

Young lips curled upward, and Rush felt a spark go off in the pit of his stomach.

“You know,” Young said idly, matching Rush’s tone of false casualness. He lifted a hand and placed it over Rush’s, taking hold of the underwear. “Why don’t we just keep these here.” He tugged, and Rush relinquished them. “In case of emergencies,” he finished, eyes twinkling. Rush didn’t quite shiver, but it was close.

Young walked away. Rush followed him with his eyes and watched as he went to the bedside table and opened the drawer. He dropped Rush’s underwear inside, and closed it. Rush did shiver then, face flushing. Young looked at him, and Rush dropped his eyes. He moved to his clothes and dressed, a warm thrill running through him as he pulled his trousers up over his bare arse. He gathered his things, and then looked around, brow creasing, unable to find his phone.

“Ah-hem.”

Rush looked up, and found Young holding up his mobile with a teasing shake. Rush walked to him with a small sigh, and reached for it. Young pulled it back out of Rush’s reach, looking pleased with himself. Rush dropped his hand to his side, and waited. Young gave him a smug look, and made a turning gesture with the hand that held Rush’s phone. Rush dropped his eyes and turned around. Then he bent a bit at the waist, sticking out his bum.

Promptly, there was a hard smack to his backside and Rush jolted. He bit his lip to keep from saying something embarrassing, and waited patiently as Young slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Then Rush straightened, turning back around. He kept his back straight and chin up, eyes cast downward. He felt like he might be blushing.

Young ran a single finger down the edge of Rush’s jaw, ending with his thumb and forefinger holding Rush’s chin, and tilted up slightly. Rush raised his eyes. They looked at each other.

“You alright?” Young asked cautiously.

Rush’s lip quirked the very tiniest bit. He nodded.

“Yes,” he replied firmly. “Perfectly clearheaded,” he added when Young looked a bit dubious.

A moment passed, and then Young sighed, dropping his hand.

“Alright,” Young said, acquiescing. “I’ll…” he trailed off, looking away with a nervous rub to his neck.

“See you tonight,” Rush finished for him. Young glanced at him, an almost startled look in his eyes.

Rush left then, leaving the room without a single backwards look.

That night, Rush approached Young’s door with a kind of giddy nervousness he couldn’t quite place. He was early, by their standards. The hour was almost decent.

Young was sitting on the couch, reading. He glanced up only briefly when Rush came in.

“Strip.”

Rush undressed smoothly. Young wasn’t looking at him, which seemed to bother him for some reason, though it never had before. When he stood naked, he let his hands fall loosely to his sides, waiting.

Young waved him over, still not looking up. Rush came and stood directly in front of him. Young glanced up.

“Take a step back,” Young instructed, looking back to his reading. Rush did, feeling odd, though not, perhaps, as odd as he should feel, given the circumstances. “Turn to the side.” Rush processed that for a second, a bit confused. He didn’t question though, just turned ninety degrees to his right and waited for Young’s next order. “Get on your knees.” That was clear enough, and Rush sank down almost gratefully. “Sit back on your heels and put your head to the floor.” Rush bowed down over his legs, arms coming to rest on either side of his head.

A moment later, he felt the slight weight of Young’s feet on his back. Rush’s throat tightened and something like a stone settled in his stomach. He turned his head just enough to look up at Young. Young was reclined on the couch, looking relaxed as he continued to look over whatever he was reading, appearing to give not a second thought about his choice of footstool. Rush turned back to the floor, face heating.

He should have been furious. It was insulting, humiliating, and such a waste of time. He had much better things to do than…whatever this was. Why not let him grab his notepad if this was all Young wanted to do? But he gave no voice to these thoughts, even as he burned with something that felt much more like shame than anger.

Eventually, Young stirred. He lifted his feet from Rush’s back and stood. Rush heard the shuffling of papers as he dropped them on the table and then footsteps as he walked away. Rush bit his bottom lip, and didn’t move. There were more soft noises that followed, and Rush could guess that Young was undressing.

“Come here.”

Rush lifted his head. Young wasn’t readily visible, so Rush determined he must be on the other side of the sofa, probably near the bed. Rush sat up and then started to get on his feet.  

“Did I say you could stand?”

Rush froze at the sharp question, half risen to one knee, cheeks flushing. Slowly, he sank back down. His lips pressed tightly together. He felt stiff. Determinedly, he forced himself forward, and placed his palms to the floor.

He crawled. On his hands and knees. He rounded the sofa and spied Young sitting on the bed in his boxers. Rush ducked his head and crossed the last few yards, face burning. He settled in front of Young’s spread knees and sat back on his heels. He kept his eyes down.

Young’s hand appeared in front of him, holding a jar of lube.

“Get yourself ready.”

Rush nodded, and took the jar, twisting open the lid.

“And suck me,” Young added, pulling his cock free from his underwear, already hard.  

Rush paused, then sat up on his knees. He leaned forward to take Young in his mouth, then put his hand between his legs. He slipped two slick fingers between the cheeks of his arse, placing the jar on the floor within easy reach and bracing with his other hand on Young’s thigh. Young let out a long sigh and slouched back on his hands as Rush worked over his erection. Rush flicked his eyes up and found Young’s eyes closed. He dropped his eyes again and focused on his task. Tasks.

It was not easy. The coordination involved to keep both actions going seemed irritatingly difficult. He tried to open himself while still keeping steady attention paid to Young’s cock, but he kept becoming distracted, one way or the other. His fingers would grow still inside his anus as he focused on opening his throat and sucking his teeth behind his lips or, worse, growing so intent on stretching himself that he virtually ground to a halt in the other area, not even realizing how long he’d been neglecting it as drool began to drip from the corners of his stuffed mouth. It was infuriating. Frustrated tears begin to prickle behind his eyes.

At last, he judged his ass to be slick and loose enough to fuck, dropping his hand with relief and refocusing his attention to pleasuring Young with his mouth. It took Young only a minute or so to notice he’d stopped stretching himself though, and he pushed Rush off of him with a firm hand at his shoulder. Rush drew back, disappointment pitting in his stomach. His face was hot and he kept his eyes downcast, embarrassed.

Young stood and pulled off his underwear before pulling down the covers and climbing onto the bed. He reclined on his back, resting his head on a mound of pillows, and propped one hand behind his neck.

Rush’s eyes had tentatively followed his movements, wary and surreptitious. Now, his gaze slid over Young’s naked body, unable to look away. Thick. Stocky. His bicep bulged with a gentle roundness from his arm being bent at the elbow, leading down to a prominent shoulder and broad chest. Solid torso. The bloated cock against his muscled thigh managed to almost look proportional. Rush imagined the feel of that body under his hand and his palm itched.

Young beckoned with a lazy gesture and Rush climbed onto the bed. His own cock bounced in the air as he moved, crawling up Young’s body to settle astride his hips. He could feel Young’s sides rubbing against the insides of his legs and it made his pelvis clench.

Young took himself in hand and Rush aligned his opening with the tip of Young’s cock. With a nod from Young, he sank down. Young removed his hand, bringing it to join the other behind his head as he let out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut. Rush lowered smoothly till he’d taken Young completely. Young sighed with deep contentment.

Rush smiled.

He rode Young, hands braced against Young’s stomach, building speed and intensity. When he clenched his inner muscles against the invasion of Young's cock, Young groaned, shuddering, so he did it again, tightening like a vice while still forcing himself down. On a whim, he sat against Young’s hips and pivoted his own, swirling around the cock sheathed inside him. That seemed to produce a good reaction and he was able to repeat the experiment with equal results. A burst of pride bloomed in his chest.

Rush’s cock was thick and full between his legs, but it seemed distant. Unimportant. Instead, Rush watched Young with abject intensity, learning how to work his body to best heighten Young’s pleasure.

His fingers began to inch up Young’s abdomen. Rush drew them back, biting his lip. He could ask permission…but Young’s eyes were closed, pleased humming moans falling from his lips, and Rush didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, watchful for any sign of dissatisfaction, Rush bent over and placed his open mouth to Young’s chest. He paused a moment, and when there was no objection, he slid out his tongue and laved over Young’s nipple. There was a deep groan he could feel through Young’s ribcage, and he clamped his mouth down, sucking Young’s peck with wet tongue and lips.

He licked his way across Young’s chest, mindful of every spot where he received the most encouragement, and then made his way up, planting kisses from the nape of Young’s neck to just under his ear. Rush felt every gasp and moan from Young as though it were an echo through the caverns of his own body. He felt it when Young’s orgasm began to build, and he sat up again, riding Young’s cock to completion. Sweat soaked, he pushed himself to go harder, faster, to provide better, sweeter friction.

He felt Young come inside him and Rush threw his head back and cried out. Their voices blended together as hot spunk drenched his insides and it was exhilarating. He felt spun out of control, half-drunk and euphoric.

Gradually, he settled, mind clearing. It was only when he glanced down and saw his erection still jutting out that Rush realized he hadn’t come.

He didn’t care.

He looked to Young. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, blinking into the dark. Rush felt a smile tug at his lips.

“Wow,” Young breathed, and Rush’s smile widened. Young met his gaze, and his lips quirked, eyes warm.

Then Young’s brow furrowed. Rush’s smile dropped, heart sinking.

“Are you okay?” Young asked him. He sounded worried, though Rush couldn’t imagine why. Rush’s brow mirrored Young’s, furrowing in confusion.

“I’m f-f-f-” Rush broke off, eyebrows drawing together.

He couldn’t…he blinked slowly, head tilting. He could feel his lips trembling. Without thinking, he lifted a hand to touch his mouth, only to find that it was shaking too. Everywhere, everywhere was shaking. He couldn’t…he couldn’t stop…shaking.

In an instant, Young had pulled him down, laying Rush beside him on the bed and drawing the blankets up over his shoulders. He molded to Rush’s back and wrapped his arms across his chest. Rush stared unblinking out into the room. He wasn’t cold.

In time, the tremors passed. Rush lay in Young’s arms unmoving. He felt numb.

“Are you okay?” Young asked again.

Rush nodded, not wanting to use his voice.

Young was quiet. After some long moments, he rubbed a hand down Rush’s shoulder. Then he reached for Rush’s cock, still hard between his legs.

“No,” Rush said flatly, hardly thinking, and smacked Young’s hand away.

There was a long pause, and then Young lowered his hand, resting his arm along the line of Rush’s elbow. Sometime later, his breathing evened, his body relaxing into Rush.

Rush didn’t move, staring out at nothing.  

Chapter Text

Young awoke to that familiar damn beeping, a protesting moan gurgling in the back of his throat. The warm body beside him stirred almost instantly. Then the body was gone, and so was the noise. Young blinked his eyes open and saw Rush stand from the bed, phone in hand. He moved to his clothes on the other side of the room, and pulled on his pants without a word.

Young pushed himself up on his elbow, watching Rush in the dim light.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened last night?” Young asked after a long silence. Rush didn’t look up, just went on tucking in his shirt.

“Do we have to?” Rush said, sitting on the sofa to put on his shoes.

A bit of air puffed out from Young’s lips and he gestured helplessly.

“I…guess not,” he said slowly.

“Then let’s not,” was Rush’s prompt response, and he stood, fully dressed, and made for the door.

“O—” Rush opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it again. “—kay,” Young finished, speaking to an empty room.

He let out a sigh and fell back on the bed, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face.

The day passed and Young could best describe it as “edgy.” Nothing happened per se, but there was a tangible awkwardness between himself and Rush. Whatever semblance of ease they’d managed to achieve seemed to slip further and further away as the day wore on.

Young sat in his quarters, trying to keep himself busy. He wasn’t sure whether to expect Rush or not, but if he didn’t show, Young had already decided to leave him be. Let him have his space.

When Rush appeared in his doorway a little after midnight, Young was more than a bit surprised. He leaned into the back of the couch as the door slid closed. Young’s mouth opened, but he stopped before any words came out, taking in Rush’s form. Rush stood stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders tense. His eyes seemed to dart about the room, looking anywhere but at Young.

They needed to talk about this, about what had happened, what was happening, but…

Young looked over Rush again.

“Take off your clothes, and bring me the lube.”

Rush glanced up at him at his words. Then, the stiffness seemed to ease from his shoulders as he almost sagged with relief. He pulled at his shirt.

Young let out a quiet sigh. There was a lot they needed to talk about.

But maybe not today.

Rush was bent forward on his elbows, head hanging down into the couch cushions. He lay lengthwise on the sofa, his right foot planted on the floor while his left knee was tucked underneath him, spine arched like a cat about to pounce. Young sat on his knees behind him, a firm grip on Rush’s left buttock and three fingers in his ass. He looked over the slope of Rush’s naked back as he worked and stretched the muscle, Rush’s hitched breaths and gasps echoing in his ears.

“Settle,” Young admonished lowly as Rush started to squirm again. “I told you to keep still.”

Rush grumbled incoherently into the sofa, but stopped his wriggling. Young added a fourth finger and then slid them all down to the hilt, observing with satisfaction how they went in with one smooth motion. Drops of lube dribbled out around them as he withdrew.

Rush was naked, but Young had kept his pants and undershirt. He undid his fly and pushed his pants and underwear around his thighs. He wrapped his right hand around his erection and leaned forward.

Rush was ready for him, but he didn’t sink into that waiting ass. There’d be plenty of time for that. Instead, he traced the tip of his cock between Rush’s cheeks, slowly dragging down the crack and over his slick hole. It was astonishing really. He could take Rush any time he wanted, and somehow that gave Young remarkable patience and self-control.

Rush did not have the benefit of that advantage, and the needy groan that drew out of him was pure music. Young grinned and dug his fingers harder into Rush’s left cheek, pulling it open. He placed his cock at Rush’s opening, but only held it there, making no move to enter. Rush groaned again, this time pressing back against Young’s cock. Young was ready for him though, his left hand gripping tightly and pushing him back into place.

“Uh-uh,” Young scolded. “I told you not to move.”

Rush groaned once more, this time with more frustration than lust, and clenched his fists. He lifted his head and glared at Young over his shoulder.

“Stop teasing, ye bastard,” he said, breathless.

Young just chuckled, and started drawing little circles with his cock around Rush’s hole. Rush’s head tilted back with an exasperated whine, eyes falling closed.

“You’re evil,” Rush muttered, almost to himself. “You’re a bad, bad man.”

Young snorted, a fond smile playing at his lips.

“You know,” Young commented. “I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted my cock as much as you.” He tried to cover his wonderment with amusement, though he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

Rush grew oddly quiet, then looked back over his shoulder, smirking.

“You should’ve fucked more sluts, then,” he said, eyebrows arching.

Young laughed, deep in his belly.

“Now,” Young said, sobering. “Be good.”

Rush huffed, thin hairs blowing away from his face, and nodded. He dropped his head over his arms and let out a deep breath.

Young kept his left hand firm, holding Rush in place. Sometimes he would press forward, increasing the pressure on Rush’s hole, but never enough to breach. Sometimes he slipped a single finger inside, down to the first knuckle, and pulled at the loosened muscle. Then he ran his thumbnail around the puckered entrance, light as a feather, letting it catch and graze. He could hear Rush panting, desperate, as the muscles of his ass flared and contracted.

Then, suddenly, Rush relaxed. The muscles under Young’s hand unknotted and Rush’s whole body seemed to soften. Experimentally, Young let the tip of his cock slip inside the tight ring of muscle. Rush barely flinched.

Young let his grip on Rush ease and sank into him with a sigh. Rush was loose, open and pliant. Young found himself rubbing his hands over Rush’s haunches and lower back, almost like he was petting him. His thrusts were smooth and easy.

Young smiled to himself, and pulled Rush up by one shoulder. Rush leaned back against Young’s chest, sitting impaled on his lap. Young placed a hand under Rush’s chin, tilting Rush’s head back against the crook of Young’s shoulder. The other hand played over Rush’s chest and abdomen, flicking idly over a nipple.

Young looked sideways over at Rush’s face. His eyes were open, but glazed over; his breaths slow, but shallow. Young placed his teeth against Rush’s ear and breathed out. Rush’s breath shuddered. Young placed one hand lightly over Rush’s throat and wrapped the other around Rush’s cock. They were impossibly close, chest to back, cheek to cheek, his cock buried in the warmth of Rush’s body. He could feel every minute muscle clench, every hitch of breath, see every flutter of Rush’s eyelids. He stroked Rush with strong, even motions, bringing him closer and closer to the brink.

“That feel good?” Young asked directly into Rush’s ear, brushing his little finger over Rush’s tightening balls. Rush nodded his head vaguely, breath short. “Which part? My hand on your cock or my cock in your ass?” Rush just whimpered.

“You gonna come, Rush?” Young continued. “Should I let you?”    

There was a breath, like a soft wind.

“If you like,” Rush said simply, voice thick.

Young grinned.

“Yes,” Young said in a gritty whisper. “I like,” and bit the lobe of Rush’s ear. Rush sucked in a shuddering breath, eyes wide and glassy.

“Do it, Rush.” Young ordered. “Come for me. Right now.”

Rush gave one little nod, and then his eyes rolled back in his head. Young felt the muscles around his cock contract and then Rush was coming, spurting semen onto the couch cushions. Young rode him out and when he was spent, Rush slumped against Young, burrowing the cock in his ass even deeper.

Young let him pant a minute, open mouthed and wet lipped. Then, he wrapped an arm around Rush’s torso, braced his other hand on the back of the couch, and managed to move them both back a bit. He pressed his lips behind Rush’s ear.

“That’s good. That’s very good.”

A subtle tremor tore through Rush’s body, then passed.  

“Now,” Young went on, pressing Rush forward gently. “Be a good boy and clean up your mess.”

Rush bent over the cushions without a word, and lapped at the milky substance staining them. Young pulled back on Rush hips a bit and repositioned himself. He took one single breath, in and out, and then he let himself go.

Out and in, he slammed forward with every thrust. He felt invigorated, and he let that energy pour into Rush’s frame. He could feel warmth spiral out, like the heat of a star, and Rush took it all. Rush licked up his own cum from the couch and let Young slam his cock through his ass as though it never occurred to him to do otherwise.

Almost without conscious thought, Young’s hand raised and came down hard on Rush’s rear end. There was a soft cry, and Rush’s skin bloomed with fresh pink.

After that, it was like a dam broke. Young struck Rush over and over and over, first one cheek, and then the other, as his cock speared Rush down the middle. The angle was far from optimal, so he couldn’t put his full strength behind the blows, but Rush’s ass still bounced with every hit and that was good enough for him.

He came deep inside Rush with a gravely moan and both hands gripping the globes of Rush’s reddened ass. He let out a long sigh as his orgasm passed and gazed down over Rush who lay pale and prostrate against the sofa. He could see the man’s ribs expand with every shuddered breath. Sweat glistened down the length of his spine.

Rush mewled when Young pulled out, but otherwise made no sound or movement. Young sat back on his heels and tucked himself away, becoming suddenly aware of his sweat drenched undershirt sticking to him. After a moment, he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, and stood.

He moved to where he could get a view of Rush’s face. It wasn’t a good view, with Rush’s hair blocking most of it, and the dim lighting didn’t help.

“Have you finished?” Young asked, surprised at how tender his voice sounded.

Rush had been perfectly still, but now his head rose infinitesimally. His eyes glanced up, though not enough to meet Young’s gaze.

“Not…” Rush started, barely loud enough to be heard. “…No.”

“Well, go on then,” Young said easily.

Rush gave a quick nod, and lowered he face back to the couch cushions. His head moved in little motions as he licked up the last of his cum. The only sounds were the soft, wet noises of his gentle lapping.

He stilled again a minute later, licking lightly over his lips, and Young knew he was done.

Young raised him up on his knees, gently maneuvering him to face outward from the couch, angled slightly toward the arm of the sofa. That was where Young sat, perching comfortably and half-leaning on the sofa’s back.

With one curled finger he angled Rush’s face up. Young brushed stray hairs out of the way, and then he looked in Rush’s eyes. They were soft. Not…unfocussed, but they definitely lacked their usually sharpness and…bite, for lack of a better word.

He’d never really thought about the color of Rush’s eyes before, but out of nowhere Young was suddenly reminded of his grandfather’s aged cognac, all gold and amber, glinting in the dim light of a dusk and dusty room.

He looked away.

His left hand slipped down behind Rush and slid his fingers up his inner thigh. A few inches up, he hit cum, and he followed the trail up between the cheeks of Rush’s ass to his hole. He let one finger wriggle inside, glancing over to Rush’s face from the corner of his eye. Rush just continued to stare mutely in the dark as Young played with his hole, the only outward reaction a slight flush to his cheeks.

When Young brought those same fingers to Rush’s lips, they parted instantly. Rush sucked and Young fucked his mouth with those fingers, pulling them out wetly when they were clean, and leaving a trail of spittle in their wake.

Young wiped his hand on Rush’s chest, letting it linger there as he looked over Rush’s features again. A part of him wanted to stretch this out, or to…take advantage? That didn’t sound right, but still…in any case, it was beside the point. There was something he needed to try.

Letting out a soft sigh, he brushed a strand of hair from the side of Rush’s face, and then straightened his back.

He placed his hands on Rush’s shoulders and looked squarely into his eyes.

“Come back.” He said firmly.

Rush blinked.

“Rush,” Young said, trying again. “Come back. Now.”

A pause and then—

Rush sucked in a breath through his nose, eyes widening slightly as his chest inflated, then out through his mouth, eyes blinking rapidly.

Young’s head tilted slightly as he tried to get a read.

“Rush?” he prompted.

“Yes,” Rush answered immediately, voice crisp, if breathless. “Yes, I’m here.”

Young nodded.

“So…that worked?” he asked cautiously.

Rush glanced at him, and then quickly looked away again. “Yeah, yeah, that…” he licked his lips. “Yes.” Pause. “Th…thank you.” He voice died down at the end, going flat as he stumbled over the word.

Young dropped his hands from Rush’s shoulders and gave a curt nod, sitting back slightly.

“So you…feel okay?” he asked, trying for casual and failing.

“Uh, yes,” Rush answered, sniffing as he rubbed his nose. “Um…you?” He looked to Young, brusque and guarded.

Young looked back, then dropped his eyes. “Fine.”

“Mm.” Rush half-grunted, and sat back on his heels, jerking slightly as he was reminded of his tenderized backside.

“You alright?” Young asked, both parts concerned and amused.

Rush snorted. “Fine.” He insisted condescendingly, and Young lips quirked up despite himself. “It’s hardly my worst beating,” he said, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders. His hands came to rest on his head, and then his eyes slid over to Young.

“You know,” he went on, arms dropping to his sides. “I could really use, um,” he brought an arm up and rested his elbow on the back of the sofa. His head rested against his hand in a gesture of nonchalance, but his tongue licking nervously over his lips betrayed him. “…A bit more.”

Young felt warmth spread out from his chest as he looked out at Rush from hooded eyes.

“Are you,” Young said, dark and deliberate. “Asking me to spank you some more?”

Rush glanced away, tensing slightly, but then raised his eyes again and shrugged.

Young chuckled, and then leaned against the back of the couch, mirroring Rush’s position. Sitting on the arm gave him a height advantage, and he looked down at Rush, lips smirking.

“Okay then. Ask.”

He let the words drop between them, and then grinned at Rush’s insulted sputter. He just raised his eyebrows expectantly, and waited.

Rush glanced around the room, as though some answer could be found there, then looked back to Young, lips pressed together.

“Fine,” he said flatly after a moment, and cleared his throat exaggeratedly. “Would you please, be so kind as to give my arse a right and proper beating,” He leaned in, and lowered his voice, nose wrinkling slightly. “…If you can manage it.” Then he sat back, a satisfied smile playing at his lips.

Young stared back coolly. He made no response to the blatant sarcasm. He just let the moments tick by. Slowly Rush’s smile started to fade. It wasn’t obvious, but Young could see him swallow as a bit of uncertainty creeped in behind his eyes. Still, he kept a brave face.

A few more moments, and Young tilted his head.

“Okay,” he said evenly. Rush blinked, and Young could see the relief flood through him. “But,” Young went on and watched Rush freeze. He lifted a hand and pointed. “There.” Rush looked to where he was pointing. Then turned back to Young, slowly. “Well?”

There was a long pause, and Young swore he could hear Rush’s heartbeat thumping in the silence. Then, Rush bit his lip, dropped his eyes, and nodded.

“Okay,” Young softly. “Go on then.”

Rush nodded again, and stood. Young stayed where he was as Rush moved away, taking a moment just to breathe. Then he stood and followed Rush.

Rush was standing in front of the counter, watching Young through the mirror. At a brief nod from Young, he bent over. He kept his chin up.

Young walked over and Rush’s shoulders shifted, eyeing the figure of Young’s reflection in the mirror. “Legs apart,” Young said, almost gently, meeting his gaze.

Rush adjusted his position, making an admirable target of his ass, his expression cautiously wary. Young placed a hand on just where it curved.

“Relax,” Young soothed, rubbing gently. Rush was already pretty red, he noted. “You’re getting spanked, just like you want.” Something flickered in Rush’s expression. “And, as a bonus,” Young went on, smirking. “…You get to watch.”

Rush huffed, and glared back, not quite amused.

“All you have to do,” Young said, removing his hand and clasping both hands behind his back. “Is say it.”

Rush kept his eyes trained on him, head tilting slightly. “Say it.” It wasn’t a question. He understood.

Young nodded.

Everything was still and silent as Young waited to see if Rush would break yet, or if he’d need a little more coaxing.

And then it happened. Rush didn’t break.

He melted.

Eyes still locked on Young grew hot and Rush’s spine lengthened. His legs spread wider as he angled his hips up and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Every inch of him spoke of one word.

Need.

His dark eyes bored into Young’s, cheeks flushing and lips wet.

“Spank me,” he said, voice thick and rumbling. His lip quivered. “Please.”

It wasn’t a seduction, not really. It was Rush’s desire, pure and unfiltered. His want.

Which didn’t mean for a second it wasn’t incredibly seductive.

Smack!

Rush gasped, eyes fluttering as his whole body gave a little jerk. Young struck him again, and this time Rush’s mouth fell open, letting out a breathy ah.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

It had to hurt. It had to. Every slap left him redder and redder, and Young knew that the fifth strike must be so much more painful than the third had been, the tenth all that much worse than the fifth.

That first night in the Control Interface Room, Young hadn’t been able to see Rush’s face. Now…it put things into a whole new perspective. Every sound Rush made, every shift of his hips, was put together with his expression—needful and blissful and somehow contented—to paint a picture of pure, and absolute, lust.

Naked. Rush was naked before him, with nowhere to hide.

He laid one final hard slap to Rush’s right cheek and then rubbed over the spot, not bothering to be gentle. Rush was panting, flushed and sweating. His hooded eyes met Young’s in the mirror. It occurred to Young then, as Rush searched his face, that Rush hadn’t been able to see him that first time either.

“You didn’t exactly…take advantage.”

Rush’s gaze began to drop, his jaw tightening. Just like that first night, Young had grown quite hard since they’d started, but he wasn’t sure how much of what he was feeling showed on his face.

“I think it’s safe to say, Colonel, that one of us had a good time last night.  And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you.” 

Young brought his other hand to Rush’s left cheek and with firm fingers spread his ass wide. Then he leaned in and pressed the bulge at the front of the pants against Rush’s hole. Rush gasped at the first touch from the evidence of Young’s erection, angling his hips up and bending his head back. Young rubbed against him, letting Rush feel his hardness. Rush blinked slowly, letting out a warm sigh, a soft, satisfied smile growing on his face.

Young was glad Rush was enjoying himself, but now he was becoming preoccupied by what to do about his increasingly urgent erection. There were several options available, but now he had to choose. Rush’s ass was right here, but…

Just then, Rush’s eyes fell closed as he sucked his lower lip between his teeth, and Young’s decision was made.

“Up,” he said, stepping back.

Rush pushed himself from the counter, somewhat unsteady. Young pulled at his shoulder and turned him to the side, stepping forward and turning so they faced each other in front of the counter.

“Down,” he said, pushing, voice gruff.

Rush obeyed immediately, falling to his knees. Young looked down, his right hand rising to cup Rush’s cheek. Rush’s lips were bright pink and glistening and Young let his thumb rub over them before moving his hand to take a firm grip in Rush’s hair. He angled Rush’s face up and Rush went easily, lips already parting.

“Belt.”

Rush lifted his hands and undid the buckle, then carefully unzipped Young’s fly, pulling down Young’s underwear just enough to release his erection. Then Young took over, bringing his left hand to hold himself and Rush let his hands fall to his knees. Young reasserted his grip on Rush’s hair, holding his head in place as he eased his hips forward. Rush opened his mouth wide, waiting.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Young caught a glimpse in the mirror. He turned his head to look again, and blinked.

On his knees, Rush was just high enough to catch his head and shoulders in the reflection of the mirror, and Young could see the angles of his sharp profile and Young’s own bloated cock beginning to enter the gaping cavern of his mouth.      

“Would you look at that,” Young murmured, mesmerized. Then he glanced down at the man at his feet. “Go ahead” he said more firmly, with a nod towards the mirror. “Look.”

Rush blinked up at him. With Young’s grip on his hair he couldn’t turn his head, but, slowly, he turned his eyes to the side. Young knew the moment Rush caught sight of himself because he let out a desperate whine and grabbed hold of Young’s pant-legs in tight fists.

With a smirk, Young pressed forward then. He watched in the mirror as his cock slid into Rush’s mouth, and he watched Rush watch as his mouth was breached by the girth of Young’s cock. Rush’s lips stretched around him as he was enveloped in more and more sweet heat. Rush was practically clutching onto him now, keening and moaning around the intrusion. The sound was muffled, but Young could feel the vibrations of each helpless wail as he pushed inside.

Rush swallowed him down, even as his eyes began to water. Young thought Rush’s lips might be trembling if they weren’t stretched so wide. He imagined Rush might be screaming if his mouth wasn’t stuffed full. When Rush had taken him almost to the hilt, Young started to slide back out. He fucked Rush’s throat at an easy pace, slow and even, reveling in every aspect of every moment.

Young bit his lip, groaned, and came. Cum burst out of him and Rush did his best, but he didn’t quite manage to swallow it all. Bits dribbled out from Rush’s lips as Young pulled out, leaving him coughing and wheezing on the floor. Young let go of Rush’s hair and Rush’s head fell forward like a string had been cut. He tucked himself away, leaving his pants undone, while Rush still clutched at his pant legs, sucking in deep, open mouthed breaths. His face was red, eyes glazed. He seemed to sway slightly, as though unbalanced even on his knees.

Young cleaned around Rush’s cum-stained mouth and chin with his thumb, slipping it between Rush’s parted lips. Rush’s eyes fell closed and matching tears tracked down both cheeks. He lapped at it with his tongue, suckling with weak, uncoordinated motions. When he’d swallowed down the rest, Young pulled his hand away, tucking strands of hair behind Rush’s left ear.

Rush’s fists began to loosen, and then his hands fell limply to his sides. Young looked him over, watching him breathe. Rush’s cock lay hard and thick between his thighs.

“I’m not gonna let you come again tonight,” Young said softly after some consideration, punctuating with a light touch to the inside of Rush’s knee with his toe. “I think I’ve already been more than generous.”

There was a bit of a sardonic, challenging lilt to his statement, but Rush merely nodded.

“Yes, sir, thank you—” Rush bit off the breathless, murmured words, abruptly swallowing them back into the cavern behind his teeth. He didn’t quite freeze, but he stilled, eyes fixed on some point just in front of his nose. Young saw his jaw clench.

Young paused, then felt his eyes skirt away from the man at his feet.

“Come on,” he said after a minute, with a brusque ruffle to Rush’s hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

He turned and walked away, pulling off his pants and tossing them to the side. He’d already pulled down the covers before he realized Rush hadn’t moved.

Young’s gaze darted from Rush, to the bed, and back again. He was just about to say something, though he wasn’t sure what, when Rush bowed forward and started to crawl across the floor, eyes fixed firmly downwards. He stopped when he reached the bed, lifting his gaze with tentative questioning.

Young patted the bed. “Come on up,” he said, tongue thick in his mouth.

Rush climbed up, turning on his side. Young slid in behind him and pulled the covers over them. He took a light hold of Rush’s wrists and wrapped both his and Rush’s arms over Rush’s chest. Young opened his mouth, about to explain that he meant to prevent Rush from “accidently” touching himself in his sleep, when Rush let out a sigh and slumped into the crook of Young’s shoulder.

Young closed his mouth. Rush was already sleeping, despite his hard-on, his even breaths puffing out over the hairs on Young’s forearms. Young watched him steadily, and then, before he realized it, lowered his head. He stopped himself just before he would have planted a kiss to Rush’s temple, pressing his lips together firmly with his teeth. He slid down into the mattress and closed his eyes, ignoring completely how his arms tightened and pulled Rush closer, or how deeply he breathed in just behind Rush’s ear.

Rush slept. On some level, he was aware of being asleep. Even his dreams were of sleep. His dream-body lay loose, naked and wrapped up in something warm and soft. His eyes were closed, but in that way of dreams he was somehow aware of being surrounded by absurdly colorful clouds, like he were sleeping on a bed of floating cotton candy. In his dream state of course, he found nothing strange about this at all.

Firm hands stroked his bare skin and he hummed contentedly as they worked their way down the length of his back, brushed over his sensitized backside and coaxed his legs apart. They didn’t need much coaxing. He spread them eagerly, relishing the pleasant twinge in his groin. Careful, slickened fingers worked him open and he shifted languidly on his bed of clouds. His dream-mind never thought to question why or how this came to be, but merely appreciated that it was there, as he sighed and slithered with sensual pleasure.

The hands moved to his hips and something thicker and hotter prodded at him, then sank inside deeper and deeper and deeper, filling him completely…

Rush blinked awake. He wasn’t dreaming. Young’s cock was buried in his arse.

He smiled.

Young started to work in him, sliding in and out almost gently, and Rush shut his eyes again quickly. He tried to keep his body and his breath relaxed, to give no sign that he had woken. His cock was hardening underneath him, and he let the tiny shifts in his body and quiet moans continue, but other than that, he kept perfectly still.  

He didn’t want to move too much, but his head was turned to one side, and so, keeping his eyelids closed, he turned his eyes as far as they would go, then opened them just a sliver, trying to catch a glimpse of Young’s face over his shoulder without Young knowing he was being watched.

After a moment, he fought the urge to sigh. Young’s face looked the same as it always did—quiet and intent. Rush didn’t know what he’d been hoping for exactly.

Just then, Young froze, mid-thrust. His eyes were locked with Rush’s, which meant obviously he could see they were open. Rush had a brief instinct to try and hide, but it was too late now.

“…You’re awake,” said Young, sounding almost hesitant.

Rush gave a little nod, feeling somehow embarrassed. The moment stretched.

“So, are you going to…finish what you started?” Rush asked when the silence and stillness became unbearable. He gestured with his head in the vague direction of where they were connected. “I could go back to sleep, if you prefer,” he added with a smirk.

Young let out a little puff of air that was almost a chuckle.

“Naw,” he replied, rubbing over Rush’s tender arse in a way that made him hiss. “Though you are damn sexy when you’re sleeping.”

Rush laughed. “Well, I’m not a snorer like you,” he ribbed.

“Watch it,” Young warned, but his tone was playful.

And then he fucked him, hard and deep, to the point that Rush thought he might go straight through he mattress. His aching erection trapped underneath him made it all the more sweet and Rush bit down on his pillow as the growing intensity built inside. When he felt Young’s cum drench his insides, he sagged with something akin to relief as his tongue licked over his lips and he wondered if Young would let him taste any of it.

Young pulled out and fell on his back beside Rush, chest heaving. There was an empty ache in Rush’s arse from where he’d been, and Rush squeezed around it as he watched Young catch his breath. After a moment, Young turned his head to look at Rush, then rolled the rest of his body on one side, resting his head against his fist.

“So,” he began, his other hand trailing up the back of Rush’s inner thigh. “Good morning.”

Rush hugged his pillow tighter and pushed himself up on his elbows. They were eye to eye now, and Rush stared into Young’s even gaze as those fingers inched higher and higher…

“Good morning,” he said around the lump in his throat.

Young grinned. “See,” slipping a knuckle in Rush’s stretched and cum-spattered hole. “You’re learning.”

Rush’s eyelids fluttered and his breath tightened as Young’s finger played just within his entrance. Young had done this last night too, and Rush fought against showing how much something so simple could affect him. Obviously, he liked it, which was the problem, but it wasn’t just the sexual thrill of it. Or even the vulgarity. No, it was that after being fucked, being come in, to have the evidence so…insouciantly toyed with…it made him feel…

Shy.

And Rush was not shy.

He dropped his gaze as red bloomed in his cheeks.

“Did you come yet?” Young asked him, still fiddling inside his hole.

Rush gave a small shake of his head, not raising his eyes. Young made a little grunt.

“I…I mean,” Rush hurried on. “I’m not even really sure I’m allowed.” He glanced up. Young’s brow furrowed. “Y…you said—”

Young took in a breath, catching on. “I said you weren’t allowed to come last night.”

“I…guess it’s morning now,” Rush said quietly, eyes skirting away again.

“That’s…” Young let out a sigh. “No, that’s…you shouldn’t be worried about that. I’m sorry, I guess things have gotten a little…confusing. I’ll have to make sure that’s not a problem.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rush assured him. “I wasn’t…you don’t have to…”

“No, I should be clear,” Young said firmly. “That’s not fair to you.”

Rush looked at Young’s grave expression, and felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

“What, so we’re playing fair now?” he said softly.

Young’s expression broke after a moment, a thin smile sliding across his face as he ducked his head.

“One of the major things they hammer into us at CO training,” he said when he turned back. “Is to never leave any room for misunderstanding when giving orders”

“Oh-ho,” Rush laughed. “So this is a matter of professional pride then.”

“Something like that,” Young murmured.

Rush leaned in, till their noses were almost touching. “Well alright then.”

They both leaned in closer, slowly bringing their lips into alignment. A nanosecond before they touched, it crossed Rush’s mind that this was different than the other times they’d kissed, but then their lips touched and Rush’s mouth opened and there wasn’t time to think anything else. Even Young’s finger incessantly fidgeting with his arse didn’t seem to bother him anymore—not with him inhaling Young’s hot breath into his mouth.    

They came up for air together, lips still touching, and Rush felt a burst of courage in his chest.

“I’m glad you didn’t wait this morning,” he said huskily against Young’s mouth. “I’m glad you fucked me in my sleep.”

“Oh yeah?” said Young, breathless.

“Yes,” Rush said firmly, catching Young’s eyes and holding them.  

Young regarded him a moment. “Why?”

Rush blinked. “What?”

Young paused, then sighed. He pulled back a bit, removing himself from all the places he’d been touching Rush.

“Why did you want me to do that? It was your idea, remember?”

“…I suppose.”

“I thought this was just another kink, but you didn’t even really get off on it, so…” Young trailed off.

“I…I did,” Rush protested. “Just…I’m plenty hard, believe me.” He made a face, gesturing comically. “You wanna see?”

Young stared at him a moment, then gave a little snort. “Okay,” he said, clearly giving up.

“Alright,” Rush replied, pretending it was an answer to his question. “Should I roll over then?”

Young let out a chuckle, shaking his head in exasperation. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Rush flipped over onto his back, settling on his elbows. Young pulled back the covers.

“Mmm,” Young commented, lifting Rush’s prick with one finger. He flicked it up, and let it fall back down against Rush’s stomach. Soon enough, he was running his fingers all over Rush’s genitals—never enough to satisfy, just teasing.

“So,” Rush started after a while. “Are you planning to let me come, or…?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Young replied absently.

“Mm. Well,” Rush said, laying back and perching his hands behind his neck. “I’ll just…wait here then. Till you make up your mind.”

Rush closed his eyes and let Young do as he liked. It felt good. Even the ache in his cock, the possibility of denial…even that felt good. Every time Young touched him it seemed it was like this. How could he break him down so much, take away so much, and have it feel so good.  

Finally finding your place now, are you?

The smile that had wormed its way onto his face started to waver as a knot began to form in the pit of his stomach…but just then Young took several wiry hairs near the base of his cock between his fingers and pulled them out by the roots.

“FUCK!” Rush shouted, flinching with his whole body. Young was laughing. “Jesus…fucking Christ,” Rush complained, rubbing the sore spot and glaring.

“Well,” Young commented idly. “Looks like we finally found a type of pain that you don’t actually like.”

Rush glanced at his wilting erection somewhat mournfully. “I take it you’ve ‘made up your mind’ then,” he said, with a bit of a sneer. Young didn’t rise to the bait though, just gave him a stern look. “Fine. What time is it anyway?”

“Um…” Rush stretched out his shoulders as Young checked. “’Bout O’five thirty,” Young said, and yawned.

Rush froze. “What?”

Young stared at him blankly.

Rush didn’t wait for a response. In a second, he had his phone in hand. 5:27. How…?

“Why didn’t my alarms go off?” he demanded, clicking through the functions on his phone. It all seemed to be working…

“They did,” Young responded. Rush’s head shot up. Young was watching him from the other side of the bed with an amused look on his face. “You slept through them.”

No.

No.

“No, I…I never—” Young raised an eyebrow. Rush looked down at the evidence in his hand, heart sinking. He looked back up at Young, glaring. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Young had the nerve to actually smirk then, God damn him. “Technically,” Young said, sidling over and putting his hands on Rush’s hips. “I did.”

“…Oh for fuck’s sake.” Rush bounded out of bed and grabbed his jeans. “You are bloody useless, you know that?”” he said, yanking them on.  

Young was staring at him open-mouthed from the bed, but Rush couldn’t think about that as he hurried to get his clothes on.

“So, you slept in till…really early in the morning,” Young said after a minute. “As opposed to getting up at insanely, oh-my-god-why, early in the morning. What exactly is the emergency here?”

“There are,” Rush said, struggling to get his shirts right side out. “A million things I need to be working on!”

“Are any of them going to explode in the next hour?” Young demanded. Rush bit the inside of his lip and pulled on his shirt. “Look. We’re all working all the time Rush, but nobody puts in the hours you do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe some of us like to actually put in a full day’s work,” Rush retorted.

“I’m pretty sure no one outside of sweatshops and slave plantations consider four AM to midnight a ‘full day’s work,” Young said flatly. “…Actually, that sounds pretty bad even for sweatshops.”

Rush ignored him and kept dressing, pulling on his shoes.

Young moved to the foot of the bed. “Rush, you can’t actually think this is healthy. I used to wonder how you didn’t drop dead of exhaustion, and now…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“…I take naps,” Rush muttered under his breath as he did up his boots. “Every five hours I take twenty minutes.”

“Oh, well, I guess everything’s fine then,” Young retorted. Then he let out a sigh. “Look, can’t you just…relax about this?” Rush shook his head absently and went to get his phone. “Hey…hey,” Young made a grab for Rush’s arm but Rush shrugged him off. “Just…” When Rush passed by again, Young grabbed him by the waist and pulled him onto his lap. “Hang on for one second.”

“Don’t—” Rush started, trying to get back up, but Young pulled him down again.

“Shh, shh,” Young soothed. “Relax.” Young slipped his hand under Rush’s shirt. “Let me…help you…relax,” he rumbled into Rush’s shoulder.

“Stop it,” Rush told him, but it sounded weak even to his ears. Young’s fingers skated over Rush’s abdomen and Rush’s eyes fell closed in spite of himself.        

“Come back to bed for an hour,” Young murmured in his ear.

Rush was already shaking his head.

“No, I can’t—”

“One more hour. Six thirty. It can’t make that much of a difference.”

“I already have to make up—”

“No you don’t,” Young interrupted. “You don’t have to make up anything. Come on. Stay.”

Rush breathed out. “I can’t.”

“Why not? No one’s holding you to this schedule but you.”

Rush shook his head again.

“I…”

“Shh. Come on,” Young urged. “Just a little longer.” Rush pressed his lips together. “”I’ll come up with something good.” He slipped his hand just below the waistband of Rush’s jeans. “I might even let you come this time,” he teased, playing at the hairs on Rush’s lower belly. Rush let out a shaky breath. “Be honest here. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t rather stay.”

There was a clear challenge in those words. Rush swallowed. Young’s hands were nearly all he could think about.

He took a deep breath, in, then out. Very deliberately, he opened his eyes. He turned his head, and looked at Young.

Be honest

“I would absolutely rather stay,” he said. “But I have to work.”

They were silent a moment, and then Rush pulled away. Young let him go.

“Okay,” Young said, dropping his hands. Then, more resigned. “Okay.”

Rush stood, tucking his shirt back in. When he turned around, Young’s elbows were on his knees, his eyes fixed on his folded hands.

“Look,” Rush said helplessly. Young raised his eyes. “I’ll…be back tonight. You can…do whatever you want with me then.”

He tried his best at an encouraging smile, making a point not to think to hard about how intoxicatingly, terrifyingly true that statement was.

Young regarded him soberly. Then, his lips quirked. Rush let out a breath, stomach unknotting, as Young sat up and placed his hands on his knees.

“Well,” Young said with a sigh. “At least give me a proper goodbye then.”

Rush’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Young looked at him with a far too pleased, expectant, expression. Young raised an eyebrow at Rush’s hesitation, and Rush let out an exasperated sigh. Warily, he made his way over.

Young put his hands on Rush hips when he got close enough. After a moment, Rush put his own hands on Young’s shoulders. Then he leaned down and pressed their lips together.

He kept his mouth stubbornly shut, but he still felt a contented sigh escape him, lips softening just enough to let Young’s bottom lip slip between them. His arms slid around Young’s neck as Young’s hands caressed his lower back, taking hold of his back belt loop and tugging him just a bit closer.

SMACK!

Rush let out a startled gasp as Young’s right palm made contact with his backside. For a second all he could do was gape, mouth hanging open like a fish while he caught his breath. Young was chuckling, low and deep in his chest. Rush shot him a glare, but then just snorted and shook his head.

“Bastard,” he said, smiling.

“Troublemaker,” Young replied pointedly.

Rush let out an incredulous puff, somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “Look who’s talking.”    

Young smirked. His hand was still square center on Rush’s arse, and he gave it a firm squeeze.

Rush’s eyelids fell half closed as he breathed in deep through his nose. He breathed out again, and straightened. He needed to go. Now. Before he begged Young to throw him down and beat his arse so bad he’d never dare think of leaving again.

“Let me…check the door for you,” Young said, standing. Rush took a step back to give him room. “It might actually be possible for someone to be there this time,” he said in a mocking tone.

Rush gave a thin smile. “Yeh, thanks,” he said quietly.

Young gave him the all clear and Rush left without another word. He walked quickly down the hallway, turned a corner, then another. He stopped. It was a foolish gesture. He wasn’t anywhere near Young’s room at this point. He wouldn’t be able to see anything.

He looked over his shoulder.

Best get to work. You’ve wasted enough time today.

He let out a sigh, and nodded. He turned and started walking again, making his way towards the Control Interface Room. There were some simulations he wanted to run.

Unless you’d rather be a full-time whore.

Rush flipped open his notebook and read as he walked.        

Chapter Text

Rush rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Numbers were starting to dance inside his head and in front of his eyes, mocking him. He shook his head to clear it. If he could just refocus…

He looked over the empty room. It had gotten quite late. Everyone else had left. Normally that would only be a good thing, but Rush was suddenly struck by how very, very still and quiet everything was. Destiny’s dim spaces seemed oddly, acutely, vacant.

Rush looked back at his work, a dismal sinking sensation settling in his chest.

It occurred to him, then, that he had told Young he’d be by that night.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

Well. He shouldn’t keep Young waiting too late. He wouldn’t like that.

Minutes later, he stood outside Young’s quarters, nervous excitement twisting in his stomach.

Young didn’t look up right away when Rush entered. He was sitting on the sofa with a drink in his hand, staring down at nothing. Rush paused just inside the door, pressing the door control behind him somewhat hesitantly. Young did look at him then. There was a hard line to his face.

Young stood and stalked toward him. Rush’s eyes flickered to the cup in Young’s hand. He glanced around the room, but he didn’t find a bottle anywhere. Young’s movements were steady, and when he got close enough Rush noted the smell of alcohol on his breath wasn’t too pronounced. Probably just the one drink, then. Young eyed him as he downed the last of his drink, swirling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing. There was a dark energy coming off of him, but he wasn’t drunk.

It occurred to Rush then that Young might not be particularly pleased with him, after his hurried exit that morning. He swallowed self-consciously. It wasn’t that he felt guilty—he hadn’t done anything wrong—and he didn’t think Young would actually hurt him or anything, but nonetheless the idea that Young might be unhappy with him made him feel strangely…uncomfortable.

Young didn’t break the silence with any enlightening words, however. His free hand took hold of one of Rush’s belt loops and tugged him forward. That alone was enough to send a sharp pang to Rush’s groin, and then that hand was in Rush’s hair, clawing at his scalp as a filthy kiss ravaged his mouth. Young gave a harsh bite to Rush’s lower lip before pulling away, startling a soft cry from Rush. Young paid him no mind, only brought his hand to Rush’s jaw and fondled the bruised lip with his thumb. Young scrutinized him with a burning intensity, and Rush could sense a storm under the mask of Young’s carefully impassive features. Rush let himself be manhandled, both in an effort to show compliance, and because it was really, really hot.

Young grabbed him by the elbow and swung him around, practically throwing him toward the center of the room. Rush stumbled, caught his feet, and then turned back to look at Young. Young lounged against the back of the sofa, one hand idly fiddling with his empty cup, posed with an air of false ease and indifference, like a lion pretending his interest in that herd of zebra was purely a matter of cursory curiosity.

“Strip.”

Rush took a breath, and started to pull his shirts over his head.

“Slower.”

Rush froze at that. He glanced over his shoulder, bits of fabric awkwardly bunched in his fists. Young was watching him intently, but that didn’t give him any clues or direction on how to proceed. He swallowed thickly and resumed his movements. He didn’t have any art or style to apply, but he did go slower, for all the good that did. He dropped his shirts on the floor and then bent over to take off his shoes. It felt silly and awkward and he felt Young’s eyes on him at every moment.

“Turn around,” he heard Young say when he went to undo his jeans.

He turned to face Young and then carefully worked down his zipper. He was painfully hard, and without underwear his erection pressed uncomfortably against the metal teeth. Young watched the action inscrutably as Rush merely tried not to wince too badly as he painstakingly freed himself. Finally, he pushed his trousers down his legs and stood naked in the middle of the room. He kicked his clothes a bit away from him and then tried not to fidget as his cock bobbed helplessly in the air.

Young just looked him over for a bit, utterly, maddeningly, unhurried. Then, he looked straight in Rush’s eyes, and spoke.

“Spread your feet apart and squat down.”

His tone did not encourage resistance, and Rush found that he didn’t have much. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling, ignored the tightness in his stomach and the prickling behind his eyes, and obeyed. Shame mixed with resignation, the humiliating knowledge that he would obey.

Young’s curt instruction of “wider” was met with equal acquiescence as Rush assumed his, given the context, degradingly vulgar position.

“Touch yourself.”

Face burning, Rush lowered a hand to his genitals. After a few moments, Young let out an irritated sigh.

“Like you mean it, Rush,” he drawled impatiently. Rush lifted his eyes, not sure he understood. Young gazed down at him, and maybe it was just the angle that made him seem so superior. “I want to see you come, Rush. I want to see you like it.”

Rush dropped his gaze again. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. It wasn’t that he didn’t find the situation arousing, but…there was some nagging doubt that seemed to keep him from fully enjoying himself. Still, Young had made his demands, and…

Rush took a tighter grip on his cock, forcing himself to feel the pleasure of it. He stroked mercilessly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his mouth hanging open, panting. He cupped his balls, but abandoned them quickly to shove two dry fingers in his arse, wincing and then groaning at the invasion.

“That’s it,” he heard Young rumble. “That’s how you like it.”

Rush turned his head to one side in a vain impulse to hide his face—as though he could hide anything like this. He was masturbating for Young’s entertainment, butt-naked and perched in this obscene position.

You’re disgusting. He wants you to feel how disgusting you are.  

He heard footsteps, and when he opened his eyes he could see Young approach. Rush whimpered, shaking his head helplessly as Young got closer, not daring to stop his furious motions.

He kept his head down, but that helped nothing because Young crouched down in front of him—a cruel parody of his own demeaning position. Rush did everything not to look at Young’s face, but he couldn’t escape the feeling of Young’s eyes on him, knowing that nothing could be hidden from them—not a single crude and loathsome thing.

Rush felt his orgasm build and he gulped back the tears in his throat before gritting his teeth and spilling onto the floor between his legs. He was still coming down, shaking, when he felt something drag over the end of his penis. He looked down instinctively and saw Young had caught his semen in the metal cup he’d been holding, and was now using the edge to scrape the last of it from the tip of his cock.

When Young stood, Rush’s eyes followed him up automatically. His head was forced to tilt back now that Young was so close. Rush’s hands were still between his legs. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to move them. Young stared down at him, swirling the cup in his right hand, the one Rush knew held the evidence of his orgasm. He imagined it sloshing around grossly, staining the metal walls enclosing it.

And then Young pressed the rim against Rush’s lips, and fixed him with a look that dared him to refuse.

Rush opened his mouth. He tilted his head back further, closed his eyes, and let Young pour the vile substance down his throat. He’d licked up plenty of cum by this point, so Rush didn’t know why this should be different, but it was. He could feel it scorch him with every gulp and when it was done, when he’d drunk it all and the unforgiving metal was moved from his lips, he was left gasping not just from having to swallow it all down at once, but from the acute intensity of his degradation.

Just be glad you didn’t choke on it.

There was a part of him, he knew, that loved it, that relished in it, but the dark clouds behind Young’s eyes left him only with the bitter, sour taste in his mouth.

“Hands behind your head,” Young ordered gruffly, and then pulled out his cock, bloated and leaking.

Rush laced his sullied fingers behind his neck with only a slight shudder, hoping whatever Young did next would finally ease the dark displeasure that blackened his every move.

“Suck me,” Young commanded, and Rush hurried to obey, not quite relieved, but at least optimistic. He fucked his throat on Young’s cock, staring up at Young with eyes wide and contrite. Young wasn’t looking at him though, his eyes closed and head tilted back in pleasure. The only heed he paid Rush was the occasional thrust of his hips.

And why not? What are you?

Rush dropped his gaze and focused on his task.

When he came, Young held Rush’s head in place, making sure he swallowed every drop. Rush felt Young release a deep sigh as he guzzled the issuance down. When he’d finished, Young pulled out and put himself away, brushing a strand of Rush’s hair behind his ear. Rush stretched his aching jaw; his throat was sore and his joints were beginning to ache, but at least when he glanced up to check, Young’s foul mood seemed to have dissipated.

Young rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, then ran a hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

“Come on,” he said, with a tap to Rush’s shoulder, and walked past him toward the bed.

Rush stretched out his joints and followed, crawling on his hands and knees. He wished he felt more relief about Young’s improved attitude, but there was still a sour feeling in his stomach, like something wasn’t quite digested.

Young unzipped his jacket and put it away, then sat on the bed and pulled off his boots, stuffing his socks in before tossing them aside with a tired swing of his arm. He eyed Rush waiting on the floor, and patted the spot next to him on the bed. Rush climbed up and sat beside him, head bowed.

“Hey,” Young said after a minute. “You okay?”

Rush nodded, but didn’t look up from where he was scratching at his cuticles.

“Rush,” Young pushed after another pause. After another beat, he placed a hand on Rush’s shoulder.

Tentatively, Rush peered up at Young from behind his hair. Young regarded him steadily, a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

“I…” Rush started, then ducked his head again, nibbling on his lower lip. He didn’t know how to ask this, didn’t even know why it mattered, but… “Was I…being punished?” He glanced back at Young. “For…for this morning?”      

Young was silent.

“No,” he said finally, his face a smooth mask but for the eyes. He tracked over Rush’s face. “Did you…think it was?” Rush shrugged. “Why?”

Rush looked back at his hands. He gave his head a little shake.

“You…seemed mad,” he tried to explain, looking to Young with a helpless shrug.

Young dropped his hand from Rush’s shoulder and looked away. He let out a deep sigh.

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said quietly after a long pause.  

Rush nodded, mostly to himself, the knots in his stomach finally beginning to uncoil. He sighed out through his nose, a small, relieved smile playing at his lips.

“I’ll always tell you,” Young went on after a moment. “If…if that’s what I’m doing.” He looked in Rush’s eyes seriously.

Rush gave him a tiny smile and nodded. “Okay.”

Young sighed again, and bowed his head. When looked up again, he looked almost sheepish.

“Was it that bad?” he asked softly.

Rush’s brow furrowed at the question, then he let out a quiet snort. “No,” he said, shooting Young a look.

“You should tell me,” Young pressed on, expression all quiet earnestness. “If I’m doing something you don’t like, if I’m crossing a line—”

“You didn’t ‘cross a line,’” Rush said, exasperated. “I was just…” he looked back down at his hands. He tried out a dozen things he could say, but they all sounded too much like ‘I was worried you were mad at me’, and he couldn’t very well say that, so...he looked back at Young. “It was good, I promise. I was just…distracted.”

Young eyed him doubtfully, and Rush sighed.

“Really,” Rush insisted. He shifted his weight, bouncing slightly on the mattress, and leaned forward. Timidly, he touched the tip of his fingernail to Young’s thigh. “I loved it,” he said breathily as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. It was true, actually. Now that he knew Young hadn’t been cross with him, looking back on it, the whole thing had been…delicious. He shivered, a pleasant tingle running through his frame.

“Really,” Young said dryly.

“Mm-hmm,” Rush hummed. He drew little lines up and down Young’s leg. “It was…” he hesitated, his tongue working around the word in his mouth. “…Humiliating.”

Young let out a ‘mm’ sound. “And you like that.”

“Yeah,” Rush breathed. “Made me feel…dirty.”

“Mmm,” Young smirked. “And I know you like that.”

Young lifted a hand and cupped Rush’s face, rubbing his thumb roughly over Rush’s lips. Rush parted them and took the thick digit briefly between his teeth in a gentle bite before releasing and letting it pull down on his lower lip.

“You’re a dirty thing, aren’t you?” Young commented lazily, tugging at Rush’s lip. Rush felt his hips shift as arousal swirled in his lower belly. Then Young let his lips go and took a fistful of his hair, yanking hard enough to make Rush gasp, hard enough to hurt. “You’re a dirty, dirty boy.”

“Y-yes,” Rush agreed readily, a desperate whine bleeding into his voice. “Yes.”  

He panted wetly, eyes wide. His pelvis rolled in little agitated circles, and he itched to touch himself, to touch Young, but he knew he wasn’t allowed and he curled his fingers against Young’s leg to stop them doing something foolish.

“Yes, what?” Young prompted with a low rumble, regarding Rush from dark, hooded eyes.

“Yes, I’m…a dirty, dirty boy,” Rush recited, breathless.

Young laughed, and Rush felt himself flush.

“Nice,” Young said with an arch of his brow. “But not what I was looking for.”

Young stared at him evenly, and for a moment Rush could only gawk back. He felt his chest tighten. There was an odd kind of distant warning bell going off in the back of his brain.

He breathed in, and out.

Then, again.

And again.

“Yes, sir,” he said finally, throat aching, in a voice so small it could barely be heard.

The moment he did, a shiver ran through him. It wasn’t entirely pleasant. He liked it…but he also didn’t. But he also liked not liking it, or maybe he didn’t like liking it, but he couldn’t deny that it certainly…did things to him.

He was so fucking hard right now.

Young had left his belt undone and now he pulled it out from the loops, the slick sound of it a delicious promise. In a few swift motions he’d turned Rush around and pulled his hands behind his back. Rush let out a low whine as Young wrapped the belt around his wrists, winding it up his forearms and cinching it tight.  

“Get on the floor.”

The gruff command was accompanied by firm pull to Rush’s arm that ‘helped’ him off the bed and onto his knees. Rush knelt in front of Young with his head bowed, trying to catch his breath. His lower body wouldn’t stop fidgeting, thighs squeezing and bum sliding from side to side—a response to his intense arousal that did nothing to alleviate his desperate need.

“Don’t come till I say, Rush. You understand?”

Rush was already nodding before he’d fully processed what Young had said.

“Yes, sir.”

Another dubiously pleasant shiver rocked through him, erotic and dangerous.

Young undid the button of his trousers and leaned back slightly, bracing himself on his hands. He spread his legs wide, treating Rush to an excellent view of his crotch. Rush eyed the bulge there with a guarded anticipation, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Unzip my pants.”

Rush glanced up. Young met his gaze, a challenging look in his eye. Unconsciously, Rush’s hands flexed against their bonds. The intention was obvious.

Rush leaned forward, till his nose brushed against the front of Young’s trousers. With his face between Young’s thighs, he could feel his own hot breath blow back in his face. Hesitantly, he stuck out his tongue and lifted the handle of Young’s zipper, and without too much trouble he was able to catch it between his teeth. Then he dragged it down. He was aware of how delicate it could be, to unzip around an erection, and couldn’t engage much finesse this way, so he went slowly, very slowly, and kept his ears open in case Young gave any sign he should stop.

Those weren’t the signals Young seemed inclined to give, however.

“Yeah,” Young moaned breathlessly. “That’s it. That dirty mouth’s good for all sorts of things, huh?”

Rush bit back a groan and focused on not losing his grip on Young’s zipper. When he’d gotten it all the way down, he moved his head back just the tiniest bit, taking in the sight of Young’s tented boxers.

Young put a hand under Rush’s chin and tilted his head up. Then he cupped himself, rubbing through the cotton of his underwear.

“Dirty, dirty boy,” he murmured. Rush’s eyes fluttered closed as he sucked in a trembling breath. “Look at me, boy.”

A stab went through Rush’s chest and he felt dizzy for a moment. Then it passed.

He opened his eyes, and slowly lifted them. He met Young’s eyes with a strange kind of relief, falling into them and drinking them in all at once.

Young pushed down his boxers and pulled out his cock and testicles.

“Such a dirty boy,” Young said, stroking. “You want to suck my dick again? Suck me with that dirty mouth?”

“Yes, sir.” Another shiver. But, God, he did, he really did.

“Greedy cocksucker,” Young mused, and traced the tip of his cock down Rush’s left cheek.

Rush whimpered, thighs clenching, as Young rubbed his penis over his face. He longed to take him in his mouth, but he didn’t dare, not till he was told.

“Well, I don’t think I’m ready to let you,” Young said. He gave Rush’s cheek a light slap with his cock. “Not yet, anyway.”

Young sat back, a light smile on his lips. He shifted his hips and lifted his cock up toward his stomach.

“Why don’t you start with those,” Young ‘suggested’, and gestured to his balls.

A helpless shudder went through Rush, and he couldn’t even pretend it was anything but arousal. He lowered his head again, this time touching his parted lips to the skin of Young’s ball-sack, and let out a shuddering breath. Young groaned deep in his throat, and Rush stuck out his tongue. He started with light strokes with the tip of his tongue, but that quickly turned to broader licks.

“Suck them,” Young commanded.

Rush turned his head to one side and opened wider. Carefully, he took Young’s bollocks in his mouth. He sucked gently, mostly just letting them sit in the hot wetness of his mouth.

It felt glorious.

Young was stroking himself over the side of Rush’s cheek and Rush wondered if he’d come on him, like this. The whole thing was so base, so depraved, Rush was barely holding it together. His hips squirmed as the pressure in his groin built and built.

He heard Young chuckle.

“God, you really do like it dirty, don’t you?” Rush felt Young rub a toe against the outside of Rush’s thigh. It was damp. “You’re dripping,” Young said, full of amusement.

Rush glanced down in alarm.   He couldn’t see very well at this angle, but it seemed his cock, hard and aching between his legs, was dribbling pre-cum onto the floor. Rush shut his eyes in shame.

“I haven’t even touched you,” Young went on. “You’re just getting off on having my balls in your mouth.” Rush whimpered around Young’s testicles, and God, even that felt good. “You like that? That get you hot?” Young took him by the hair and pulled his head up. Rush let Young’s bollocks fall from his mouth with equal parts relief and disappointment. “Hm?”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” Rush rasped, shuddering, not daring to look up.

“I can tell. Look at that cock. Look how hard you are, you dirty boy.”

Rush’s lips trembled as he cast his eyes further down. The sight of his cock, bright red and leaking, set him squirming again.

“I haven’t said you could come yet, Rush. You better pull yourself together.”

Rush sucked a deep breath into his lungs. He didn’t know why he was having so much difficulty obeying that command this time. Other times, just Young telling him not to come seemed to be enough to keep some semblance of control. He’d been able to tap into something, find an acceptance in his state that made it easier to cope with. But now…he twisted, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t escape it, that need—it was everywhere.

He really didn’t know if he would make it.

“You still wanna suck my cock?” Young teased, and Rush let out a dry sob.

“Yes,” he whimpered. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Go ahead.”

He lowered his mouth over the head of Young’s cock. As he worked his way down, he tried to concentrate on doing his job well, and not on how good it felt to have Young’s length in his mouth.

Young was not helping.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Young grunted. “That’s my dirty boy. God, you look hot like that. You remember that, don’t you? How hot you look with my cock in your mouth?”

Rush squeezed his eyes shut as images from the night before flooded over him, how the thickness of Young’s cock had stretched his lips as he’d thrust into him over and over—

“Don’t come, Rush.”

Rush sobbed at Young’s firm reminder. I’m trying, he felt like screaming around the cock gagging his throat. Young threaded his fingers through Rush’s hair and started controlling the motions of Rush’s head, pulling and pushing him back and forth over his length. Rush was happy to let him, not trusting himself to do much of anything at the moment. Finally, Young held Rush’s face flush against his groin and came down his throat. He held Rush there even after Rush had gulped down the hot spunk, letting his cock soften in the caverns of Rush’s mouth and throat.

“I think you maybe liked that more than I did,” Young taunted, gruff and breathless. “Mouth stuffed with cock, and a belly full of cum…you are one happy…dirty…boy.”

God, he was right.

He pulled Rush off his cock and looked down between Rush’s legs.

“…And you managed not to come. I’m impressed.” Young smirked and put himself away, refastening his trousers with a satisfied sigh. Rush couldn’t even be bothered to hate him for it. His lips were nearly numb and his throat was really sore now, but none of that was anything compared to the howling agony in his cock.

“Dirty boy. You just love being on your knees, don’t you?” Young taunted, and Rush could only whimper mournfully. “Or maybe…” Young went on. “That’s not quite it. Maybe you just like being at my feet. Hm?” There was a pause. “Look at me, boy.”

Rush shivered and swallowed around a lump in his throat. He lifted his eyes and met Young’s gaze.

Young regarded him with eyes that somehow blazed both hot and cold.

“What do you think?” Young said, low and thick. “You like being at my feet?”

Rush felt lightheaded. That warning bell was still there, chiming in a deep, neglected corner of his mind. But there was really only one thing he could say.

“Yes, sir.”

Young smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Then Young’s bare foot was planted in the center of his chest, and the next thing he knew Rush was shoved backward. He hit the floor hard, his bound arms trapped awkwardly between his back and the floor. He cried out sharply, and then just laid there in shock as Young came to stand over him. Young stared down as Rush gaped up at him, chest heaving.

Young lifted his right foot, and planted it on the side of Rush’s face. Rush mewled pitifully, and shut his eyes as Young pressed his cheek into the floor.

“You still can’t come, Rush,” said Young, firm and resolute. “Not till I say. I’m warning you.”

Rush peeked up at him from the corner of his eye. Young eyed him pointedly. Rush swallowed, and gave a little nod from beneath Young’s foot.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered. He blinked, and tears ran down his cheeks.

Young lifted his foot and rested it in the center of Rush’s chest. Rush gazed up at him. The angle was…impressive. Dominating. With Rush on the floor he looked impossibly tall, and his leg bent up gave Rush an eye-full of his crotch. Rush imagined him unzipping his trousers, pulling himself out, stroking himself till he was hard and full again, and then—

“Like the view?” Young mocked. Rush dropped his eyes. “You that eager to go another round? Hm?” Rush looked up again to find Young groping himself through his trousers. “You want to suck me again?” Young asked. “Or is your ass feeling neglected?”

Rush shuddered, buttocks clenching eagerly at the thought.

“Let’s say,” Young mused, and started rubbing over Rush’s chest with his foot. “I could either fuck you or let you come tonight?” Rush’s breath hitched as Young’s toe flicked over his nipple. “What would you pick?” Rush closed his eyes and moaned. “I asked you a question, Rush.”

Rush shook his head back and forth. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know.”

He needed to come, he needed to, but God, that ache inside—that begged to be filled—that need was there too. If he could have that…it might just be worth—

“I don’t know,” he whispered again helplessly.

“Don’t worry,” Young assured him. “You don’t get to choose.”

It was an unsettlingly comforting statement.

Young removed his foot from Rush’s chest with a little push.

“Spread your legs.”

Rush let his knees fall open, pulling them up toward his sides. His cock lay hot and flush against his lower belly, the sticky tip dragging over sensitive skin.

And then the sole of Young’s right foot came down on his aching member and Rush let out a screech like a wounded animal.

“Don’t come, Rush,” Young warned him again. “Not till I say.”

Rush let out a dry sob, wailing as Young increased the pressure on his cock.

“You know, Rush,” Young commented. “You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you weren’t such a dirty boy. If it didn’t get you so hot.”

He rubbed pointedly over Rush’s erection.

“I know,” Rush whimpered softly. “I know.”

Rush opened his eyes, daring himself to look. Young stood over him like a conqueror and with Rush, quite literally, under his heel. Rush’s mouth opened in a soundless scream and it took everything he had not to come right there. His hips kept shifting on the floor, rubbing up into the sole of Young’s foot in desperate need for friction. It only made it worse, pushed him further towards the edge, but he couldn’t stop. Young watched him writhe, not an ounce of pity on his face.

What if he didn’t let him come, Rush thought wildly with a touch of panic. He could do that. He had that—

Rush’s thoughts broke off, his face blushing red, and he swallowed hard.

He had that power.

He had. All. The power.  

Rush felt heady, drunk, like a shot of something potent and very, very illegal had just been pumped into his veins.

“Alright, Rush,” Young said softly. “Go ahead and come.”

Rush exploded. Every muscle strained and he screamed out as his orgasm tore through him. His hips bucked up, or tried to, but Young kept him pinned, and the pain of that cut the last tether he might have had. His legs flailed and he sobbed uncontrollably, helpless as his cock sprayed cum all over him.

He wasn’t aware of it ending, he was just suddenly lying there spent, twitching and hiccupping on the floor.

Hands rolled him to the side and unbound his arms, wiped him clean, and sat him up. Rush leaned back into the warm chest behind him, half-heartedly trying to blink his vision back into focus. Gradually, he became aware of soft words being whispered in his ear.

“That’s it, just breathe. Good boy, that’s it.”

Rush took a deep breath in through his nose, let it out slowly.

“That was hard, wasn’t it,” said Young’s rumbling voice as a warm hand stroked his hair. Rush burrowed deeper into Young’s arms and nodded against his shoulder. “But you did it. You did so good.” Young’s arms wrapped around his chest as he pressed his lips to Rush’s temple. “Such a good boy.”

Rush let a breath, his eyes falling closed, and that was the last thing he remembered that night.

Rush woke to the beeping of his alarm, blinking easily into consciousness. He pushed himself up on his elbows and reached for his phone on the nightstand, turning it off quickly. He regarded the device for a moment. He hadn’t set it on the stand the previous night; he’d left it on the floor in the pocket of his clothes. His notebook was there too, with his pencil laid on top of it.

He looked over his shoulder. Young was still sleeping, bare chest rising and falling evenly. Carefully, Rush slipped out from the warmth of Young’s bed. He moved silently, bare feet creeping delicately across the floor. He found his clothes folded on top of a chair near the bed.

Everything seemed strangely quiet, and it had nothing to do with the room around him. It was Rush’s mind that was uncharacteristically muted. To be honest, it wasn’t an all that comfortable silence—more like when someone was giving you the silent treatment but still glaring at you from across the dinner table. Or when the door was shut on a sound proof room but you knew there was all kinds of noise and commotion waiting on the other side. But Rush was never one for introspection, and he was happy to keep that door firmly shut.

When he had dressed, he paused. It wasn’t like he’d never left without a word to Young before, but this time it felt…odd. Then again, he didn’t want to wake him.

There was a soft shuffling sound, and Rush turned to see Young sitting up blearily.

“Hey,” Young yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” Rush replied, with a little wave with his fingers, his lips turning up into a half-smile.

“You headed out?” Young asked, turning to sit off the edge of the bed, his feet planted on floor.

“Yeah,” said Rush.

Young rested his elbows on his knees, bent his head and ruffled his hands through his hair, then looked up again and yawned.

“Well,” he said, and beckoned Rush with a flip of his hand. “Before you go.”

Rush walked to him, leaning in as Young reached out to rest his hands on his hips. He bent down and planted a kiss on Young’s lips, staying long enough to take one full breath in through his nose, exhaling as he drew away. Young looked up at him from hooded eyes, and pulled at Rush’s hips, twisting them to the side. Rush obediently followed the direction of Young’s hands and turned to the right, bending forward slightly at the waist.

The expected swat to his rear came swiftly, striking with a loud crack and with enough sting to make him flinch. A low, pleasant burn ignited in the pit of his stomach, and he let himself press back into the palm of Young’s hand.

“Good boy,” Young rumbled, rubbing approvingly over Rush’s backside.

And after only a second’s hesitation…

“Thank you, sir,” Rush murmured.

He glanced down out of the corner of his eye, and Young met his gaze. Young’s mouth twitched up, but the twinkle in his eye said far more.

The corner of Rush’s mouth twitched up in response, even as a dull, staticky roar grew louder in the back of his brain.

Young sat alone in his quarters trying to keep himself busy as the hour grew later and later. At this point, he didn’t even bother to pretend he was doing anything other than waiting.

Rush didn’t come by every night, but over the last couple of weeks they’d managed to develop a kind of silent communication about it. Sometimes it was obvious that there wasn’t time, or that they were both too drained or exhausted. Other times they’d give each other a subtle glance during the day, one that easily read as not tonight.

But this wasn’t one of those times, and so Young sat there, anticipation sending tiny jolts of electricity through his nervous system. Because, while he was certain Rush would show, he still had no idea as to when.

Things had been going…well. Young was starting to feel like he was getting a handle on things. Sort of. He also still felt like he was free falling through a vortex with absolutely no idea what waited for him at the bottom, but overall, he thought he was improving.

There’d been a few missteps.

Young rubbed his hand over his forehead, internally wincing again at the memory of Rush’s face.

Was I…being punished?  

He swallowed down the sour taste at the back of his throat, shaking his head to himself.

Well, what did you expect? You had a bad day, and you took it out on him. No wonder he was freaked.

The worst part, was remembering how good it had felt. With everything in his life spiraling out of control, to have Rush there, and to be able to just—

He shuddered.

He hadn’t made that mistake again.

He was determined not to.

You can’t just do whatever you want, and not care what it does to him, he thought firmly to himself. He was already on the edge of something...dark, with all of this. If he threw out any concern for what he was doing and how he was doing it, that would make him…something much, much worse.

He didn’t want to be that. He wasn’t sure what he was, but he didn’t want to be that. And that meant he had to draw a line.

Cause Rush sure as hell wasn’t gonna.

A rueful smile grew on his face as a few choice images from the last weeks played through his head, and now the sparks were back, zipping through his bloodstream like lightning bugs.

And then his door swished open, and Rush walked in.

Young sat back against the couch, tossing whatever he’d been pretending to work on onto the table. Rush stood just inside the door.

Young let him wait for a bit, just looking him over. Then he waved him over.

Rush came immediately, making his way over with smooth steps, a gentle smirk dancing on his face.

When he was close enough, Young grabbed him by the belt and pulled him into his lap. Rush let Young arrange him, and settled back against Young’s chest, facing outward. Young wrapped his left arm across the front of Rush’s torso and pulled him closer.

“Don’t come till I say,” he said, speaking low into Rush’s ear.

“Yes, sir.”

That had become something of a regular occurrence, over these last weeks. Rush didn’t say it all the time, and Young hadn’t pushed for it except that once, but it happened often enough that it didn’t surprise him anymore.  

Which didn’t make it any less of a turn on.

Young had worried, a little, at first. It wasn’t like Rush was the only one who called him ‘sir’, and the last thing he wanted was to develop some weird, sexual response to commanding his military personnel.

He needn’t have worried, though. Because it turned out that nobody—nobody—said those words in a way that sounded anything like Rush.

He reached down and rubbed his hand over Rush’s crotch, who was already starting to get hard. He reached for Rush’s belt, undoing the buckle in slow, measured steps. Next came the button of his jeans, and then the zipper. Young took his time, indulging in every moment of the unveiling. He spread the opening of Rush’s jeans, leaving him bare and exposed, before taking him in his hand and stroking in long, luxurious motions.

Rush mouth fell open with a sigh, head tilting back to rest against Young’s shoulder as he relaxed into Young’s ministrations. He lay there, completely lax, as Young stroked him. His eyelids fluttered up and down, and then finally closed. His chest rose and fell evenly.

“Are you falling asleep?” Young demanded after a minute.

“Just…resting,” Rush replied hazily.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Young said, a bit acerbically. “Am I boring you?” He scraped a nail over the head of Rush’s penis.

“Don’t get offended,” Rush chided, and snuggled in closer to him. “S’feels nice.”

“Mm,” Young hummed dryly.

He considered a moment, and then slid his other hand down the back of Rush’s pants. It took him only a second to slip between Rush’s cheeks and find his hole. He pressed the pad of his middle finger against it, moving it in tiny circles around the tight ring of muscle.

Rush groaned, and his pelvis began to undulate in time to Young’s touches.

“Enjoying yourself?” Young teased as Rush’s moans grew louder.

“Are you?” Rush countered, glancing over his shoulder with an amused glare. “You’re the one choosing to spend his time giving me a hand job.”

“Why not?” Young said agreeably. He settled his chin on Rush’s shoulder. “You have a pretty cock,” he jibed, and nipped Rush’s earlobe.

Rush snorted. “No such thing.”

“You saying my cock isn’t pretty?” Young accused in mock offense.

“No,” Rush said, lilting exaggeratedly on every word. “Your cock is magnificent.”

Young chuckled warmly and Rush grinned back at him.

“You know,” Rush went on after a minute. “You could stick that finger in me instead of just torturing me with it. A few dry knuckles won’t kill me.” He shot Young a pointed look.

Young exhaled softly through his nose, and then let his middle finger wriggle in down the first knuckle. Rush let out a contented sigh.

“See,” he said, pressing down on Young’s finger. “Much better.” He smirked. “If I can take you, I can take anything.”  

Young was quiet a moment.

“About that,” he started carefully. He wasn’t sure why he was bringing this up now, with both his hands down Rush’s pants, but Rush always did seem easier to talk to when he’d…unwound a bit. And before he could wind back up again. “We’re not…that is,” Young tried again. “We don’t always take as much time as we should. With you. With…that.”

Rush’s brow furrowed. He turned his eyes on Young.

“I just…I know I’m…” Young trailed off, searching for words. Rush raised an eyebrow and Young sighed. “…Doesn’t it hurt? When I…?” he asked quietly after a moment.

Rush looked straight in his eyes. “Oh yeah. Every time.”

Young hands went still, and he felt his face go blank.

Rush’s eyes flicked over him, and then he broke into a broad smile, laughing. He shook his head in apparent disbelief.

“How could you possibly think that that’s a problem?” he asked after he’d stopped laughing.

Young let out a long sigh, running his thumb up and down the length of Rush’s cock.

“Forgot who I was talking to,” Young muttered lowly.

Rush hmmed in response, and tilted his head back, eyes fluttering closed again as Young resumed stroking his cock and pumping his finger into his hole.

For a long time, they were silent.  

“Every time?” Young asked quietly after a while.    

“Hm?” was Rush’s confused response.  

Young swallowed. “It hurts every time?” he asked again, keeping his voice even.

Rush was quiet, then he nodded. “A little. Always a little.” He looked at Young. “It’s a good thing,” he said softly, eyes quietly insistent and slightly amused. “I want it to hurt.”

Young looked at him carefully. “Why?”

Rush’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Why…why do you want it to hurt?” Young said slowly.

“Because…because I like it,” Rush answered, an edge of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

“But why?” Young pressed.

“Because I do!” Rush turned his head sharply, hard lines on his face. He wriggled in Young’s lap, muscles taut like he was about to bolt. “I dunno.”  

Okay. Redirect.

He tugged Rush in closer.

“Just,” Young breathed seductively in Rush’s ear, using his hands to distract as best he could, and felt Rush melt a little. “Tell me what it’s like.”

Rush let out a little throaty sound, shaking his head helplessly, but he didn’t pull away. “I can’t. It’s…”

“Try,” Young urged. “Just…tell me something you like about it.”

Rush sighed out, frustrated. He looked out at the room, but his eyes were turned inward, tracking back and forth over something only he could see.

“Okay,” Rush murmured after a bit, pressing his lips together. “It’s like…” He spoke slowly, as though he had to pick up each word one by one as he went. “…After.” He half turned his head toward Young, and peeking up at him through his eyelashes in a way that was almost demure. “After you’ve…” he squeezed around the finger in his ass, glancing in Young’s eyes to confirm he’d caught his meaning, then went on. “There’s this…ache. Inside. Where you…stretched me.” His voice hitched, and red blushed in his cheeks. “Sometimes…” He inhaled through his nose, eyes falling closed. “Sometimes for days, after. And…it reminds me. Of what it’s like.” Rush turned his head further, hot breath falling on Young’s neck as his voice dropped even lower. “…When you’re in me. How good it is. How it feels.”

For a minute or so, there was only the sound of their breathing.

“And how’s it feel?” Young asked when Rush didn’t go on.

Rush’s lips quirked in an embarrassed smile, and he glanced away, seeming suddenly self-conscious.

“Well, it hurts,” he teased flippantly. Young huffed irritably. “What? You want specifics?” Rush eyed him suggestively. “Would you like a detailed description?”

Young sighed again, and resisted that suggestion, reminding himself that he’d had a reason for this line of questioning.  

“No,” he said with a rebuking scowl, and Rush smirked. Young glared a moment longer, then softened. “I meant…” he searched for the words. “How does it make you feel?”

Rush looked at him strangely, then he looked away again quickly. His eyes tracked over the air again, that same strange look on his face. His lips moved indistinctly, like he kept thinking of things to say but always ended up changing his mind.

“I dunno. Special, I guess.” he said finally, voice small, then glanced over slyly at Young from the corner of his eye. “Like I’m the only whore who can satisfy you.”

Young chuckled, and shook his head ruefully. “You know,” he said, keeping his voice light. “That just might be true.”

It just might be, Young’s inner voice taunted at him. He couldn’t imagine being with someone else after…this. He’d been careful not to think about ‘after’—just like he’d been careful not to think about exactly how and when this would all finally blow up in his face. He pushed those thoughts away, shutting them behind a smooth oak door in his mind.

Rush was watching him with an odd expression on his face. Then, he seemed to make a decision.

“Say it,” Rush said quietly.

Young thought back over what they’d been saying, then let out a soft chuckle. “You’re the only one who can satisfy me,” he declared exaggeratedly.

Rush laughed a little, snorting. “No, not that,” he dismissed. He looked at Young seriously, growing quiet. “Say I’m a whore.”

Young blinked for a moment, caught off guard. Then he let out a sharp snicker.

“You just like it all kinds of dirty, don’t you,” said Young, shaking his head in wonderment.

“I’ve spent the last five minutes talking about how I like that it hurts when you fuck me,” Rush bit out with an impatient glare. “So yeah, I do. Now say it.”

Young looked in Rush’s eyes, and Rush seemed to hold his breath, wired with anticipation.

Young leaned in a little, and inhaled, breathing in Rush’s scent. His eyes darkened.

“You’re a whore,” he said straight into Rush’s face. Rush shuddered, and his eyes went black. “Now get up,” Young said, letting his voice go hard. He pulled his hands away, and gave Rush a pointed slap to his hip.  

Rush let out a little whine, but stood, creaking shakily to his feet. Young sat there moment to collect himself. He adjusted the bulge in his pants, which had been growing for some time now, took a deep breath, and pushed himself up from the couch.

He faced Rush, who shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Young paused a moment, then looked down in a pointed gesture to where Rush’s erection hung out of his open fly, watching Rush’s squirming increase at the scrutiny. Then he took hold of the ends of Rush’s belt and brought them together, taking both loose ends in one hand and giving a little tug.

“Come on,” he said, smirking as Rush swallowed, blushing. He pulled Rush over to the bed. It almost felt like having him on a leash, and from the look on Rush’s face Young had a feeling Rush hadn’t missed that either. With a swing of his arm he flung Rush on the mattress, watching him bounce with a satisfied smirk.

“Strip,” Young growled, already unzipping his own jacket. Rush moved quickly to obey. Young stripped down as well, and together they undressed, piece-by-piece, eyes locked, till they were both naked before each other.

“Lie back,” Young told Rush, moving to grab the lubricant from the nightstand. Rush laid back on the bed, watching Young with eager, wanton eyes.

“Knees up,” was Young’s next command. “Spread your legs and grab your ankles.”

Rush shivered against the bed covers, a lewd smile coloring his face, and did as he was told. Young settled between his legs. He took hold of Rush’s ankles and pulled them open and back till Rush was in the position he wanted, holding his legs wide, feet up near his head. Rush just let out a breathy ahh, hips undulating.

Rush’s hole lay neatly on display, already a bit pink and puffy from the dry finger fucking. Young circled the puckered entrance with a lube-drenched index finger, and the pressed it inside down to the third knuckle. Rush gave a low moan, spreading his legs even wider as Young started thrusting in and out.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Young proclaimed gruffly as he opened Rush up, every jab and stretch a promise. “And after I’ve fucked you, after I’ve come in you, then maybe, maybe,” he shot Rush a look. “I’ll let you come.” He raised an eyebrow. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Rush groaned, clenching around Young’s invading fingers. Young didn’t wait for him to relax again before yanking them out, and Rush let out a soft cry at the rough withdrawal. Young just sat up on his knees and slicked the length of his cock, positioning it against Rush’s gleaming hole. He took hold of Rush’s thighs, digging his thumbs into the soft flesh in a way he knew would bruise, and with only the slightest pause, slammed in like a jackhammer.

Rush squealed and squeezed his eyes shut. He threw his head back and forth against the bed as Young fucked him into the mattress. Young hammered down with his full weight, and God, nothing had ever felt as hot as Rush’s ass throbbing around his cock.

Rush was gasping and panting, chest heaving as his cock twitched, stiff and neglected between his legs. He looked completely delirious, but Young had seen this before. Young had told him not to come, and Rush might lose all other semblance of control, but somehow, he’d always managed to hold onto that. It was an extraordinary thing to see.

It also just made Young want to push him more—make him lose that last shred of control. To see him to go completely over the edge, even as he was fighting to keep himself from falling.

Young knew he could do it easily if he just, say, stuck a thumb against Rush’s prostate and held it there, but that wouldn’t be any fun. Not that he wouldn’t take any advantage but, well, accomplishments were always that much sweeter when you had to put in a little effort, weren’t they?

With a grunt, Young shifted the angle of his thrusts. He was immediately rewarded with a startled yelp that let him know he’d hit the spot. He kept up his force and speed from before, raining down mercilessly onto his target.

Rush cried out with every successful strike, his eyes wide and panicked, and Young watched gleefully as Rush struggled against the reactions of his body.

Rush let out one particularly pitiful scream, restraint crumbling. “Wait,” he cried plaintively. “Please, stop, just—aah—don’t, please, I…”

If they didn’t have a safe word—if he didn’t know Rush—Young might have thought about stopping.

As it was, he didn’t even consider it.

He pushed harder, sweat dripping from his forehead, and relished the sounds of Rush’s downfall. He grabbed hold of the backs of Rush’s knees and pushed them toward the bed, rocking forward over Rush’s prone form. Rush screamed.

“No,” Rush begged, desperate and ragged. “No, no, don’t—”

Rush let go of his ankles, shaking his head frantically, and actually tried to push Young away, pressing his palms to Young’s chest. Young growled deep in throat, both indignant and amused, and slammed down even more forcefully. Rush’s line broke easily, elbows bending instantly under Young’s weight, and Young quickly snared Rush’s wrists in two tight fists and pinned them above Rush’s head.

“FUCK!” Rush screeched, arching against the bed, and that was the last of his resolve because next he was wrapping his legs around Young’s waist, pulling him tighter and deeper as he snapped his hips up to meet the impact of Young’s next thrust.  

Rush had lost. But it was a pyrrhic victory, as Rush’s surrender sent Young hurtling over the abyss. Rush’s heels dug urgently into his back, and suddenly Young was pumping hot cum into the depths of Rush’s ass, snarling and grunting jaggedly as his orgasm tore through him like a firestorm. Young’s ejaculation seemed to set something off in Rush, and soon he was coming too, clamping down around Young’s cock, milking him till there was nothing left, while his own cock spurted creamy goo all over his chest and stomach.

They rocked together from the combined force of their climax, and then collapsed, panting fiercely as the air buzzed around them. They lay there, limply. Young had fallen onto Rush’s chest, and he wondered blearily if he was crushing him with his weight. Rush stared up that the ceiling with a glazed over expression, his legs still wrapped around Young’s waist. Neither of them seemed able to do anything but breathe.

Eventually, Rush sluggishly unhooked his ankles from each other and lowered his feet to the bed. Young carefully pushed himself from Rush’s chest, and rolled to the side. He landed on his back with a dull thump. Rush’s right shoulder brushed up against his left as they both lay there, gazing blankly up at nothing.

Young slowly blinked. Bit by bit, it got easier to move his limbs, exhausted fatigue replacing dumbstruck paralysis. He looked down over his own chest, streaked with Rush’s cum, with a kind of detached fascination. Hazily, he lifted a hand and ran two fingers through the goop. He turned his head, holding the two fingers up over his stomach. Rush was blinking up at the ceiling, lips slightly parted.

“Looks like I get to punish you tomorrow,” Young commented idly, voice low.

Rush turned his head very slightly, just enough to see Young and his sticky fingers. His expression didn’t change, but after a moment he slowly shook his head.

“You…” he said throatily. “You came first. I didn’t…I didn’t come till…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Young interrupted with a smirk, enjoying himself more as his brain started to clear. “I didn’t say you could come after I did. Just that I’d think about letting you.”

Rush stared at him blankly, then shut his eyes with a groan.

“Bollocks,” he swore wearily, covering his face with his hands, and Young chuckled. With a tired sigh Rush dropped his hands. “Fine,” he said, glaring resignedly. “Do your worst.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Young promised, turning onto his side with a dark smile.

Rush snorted, and turned his face away. He was silent a long time, staring off at some corner of the room.

“I really did try, you know,” he said at last.

Young’s brow creased, a slight frown settling on his mouth. Rush’s voice was completely casual, without the slightest note of caring, but there was a shine to his eyes—a curl to his fingers—that made Young think twice.

“I know,” Young said soberly.

Rush turned at his words, peering steadily into Young’s face. After a moment, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and let out a little breath, nodding quietly to himself. He turned away again, but with a slight tension eased from his shoulders. Young looked over him for a bit, chewing slightly on the inside of his cheek.

“You know,” Young said after a while. “It really wasn’t your fault.” Rush turned his head, eyes questioning. “Maybe I should go easy on you.” Those eyes narrowed. Young’s lips twitched, and he raised his eyebrow teasingly. “You know…just this one—”

“Don’t insult me,” Rush interrupted, sneering. Young laughed. Rush tossed his head and glared, but his eyes were smiling.

“Okay,” Young agreed, an odd warmth in his chest. “Whatever you say.”

Rush shook his head exasperatedly. “You’re such a bastard.”

Young smiled thinly. “I know.”

They managed to rouse themselves soon after that, enough to clean up a bit, before burrowing under the covers. Rush let himself be pulled into the crook of Young’s arm, turning into him and draping his left leg over Young’s knee as he rested his head on Young’s shoulder. Young snaked his arm around Rush’s back, his hand settling over the curve of Rush’s ass. Rush sighed contently, eyes already closed, and clenched his buttocks under Young’s palm.

There’s this…ache…inside...

reminds me…how good it is…  

The echoes of Rush’s words stirred in him, and Young squeezed the muscle of Rush’s backside.

Because, right now, he could.  

Chapter Text

Rush spent the next day not thinking about his forthcoming punishment. He focused on his work, quite admirably he thought. Nonetheless, he found himself ending his day as early as he reasonably could.

He went to the showers first. He wasn’t trying to stall—really—but memories of his previous punishment made him think it might help to start off as ‘fresh’ as possible. Chances were, it wouldn’t be over quickly.    

They hadn’t spoken much that morning, exchanging little more than a kiss and a smack on the bum. Rush tried not to overanalyze or let his nerves get the best of him as he scrubbed behind his ears, brushed his teeth, and even gave himself a clean shave.

He wasn’t stupid. He was well aware that Young had pushed him beyond what was reasonably possible. Deliberately, no less. But for some reason, Rush couldn’t bring himself to try and get out of it.

What would you say? That you ‘don’t deserve it’?

Rush’s jaw clenched as he gave himself a last look over.

No. Certainly can’t say that.

He bit back a sigh, and started the walk to Young’s quarters.

Young looked up when he entered, leaning back into the couch as he tossed some files aside.

“Hey,” Young said softly.

“Hey,” Rush replied, even more softly.

Young looked at him a moment, a considering look on his face.

“You know,” he said finally, appearing to have made a decision. “I meant what I said last night.” Rush shot him a questioning look. “It really wasn’t fair of me,” Young went on. “I don’t think we need to…” he trailed off.

Young was giving him a way out. Rush had to admit he was tempted. But there was something that wouldn’t quite let him take the easy way, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

You know why.

He swallowed, and then let his lip quirk up into a smirk.

“Couldn’t come up with anything, heh?”

As expected, Young’s eyes darkened at the challenge. Rush stared him down with deliberate insolence.

“Alright. That’s how you want it.” Young straightened his back and pinned Rush with his gaze. “Strip.”

Rush shifted discomfitedly and pulled at his clothes. This time, he folded the items neatly, placing them in a stack on a chair. He set his things on the nightstand as well.

“Get on the bed. On your back.”

Young had stood and unzipped his jacket. He took off his jacket and shoes, but stayed otherwise fully clothed. Rush laid back on the bed, noticing the speed of his heartbeats.

Young took out the lube and came to sit beside him on the bed. “Pull your knees up and spread your legs. Hands under your knees.”

It was a similar position to the night before, which probably wasn’t a coincidence. Rush felt his arse clench in anticipation and his cock hardened, though he was filled with apprehension. He wondered when, if ever, he’d be allowed to come tonight.

As if in answer to his question, Young spoke.

“Don’t stop yourself from coming.” At Rush’s surprised, and then suspicious, glance, Young let out a chuckle. “I’m not gonna stop you either, so don’t worry about that.” Young opened the jar of lube and dipped his fingers in.

Rush eyed him cautiously. “Somehow, I don’t find that very comforting.”

Young just grinned. Evilly, in Rush’s opinion.

Then Young wrapped a slick hand around Rush’s cock and Rush stopped thinking for a while. His eyes fell closed with a groan as Young worked him in slow even strokes. He shifted against the bed, especially in the hip area. His exposed hole was feeling rather neglected, but still, it was easy to lose himself in the sensation. Young knew just what to do to him by now, and he wasted no time in driving Rush over the edge. Rush came in a matter of minutes, spilling onto his own abdomen.

His muscles went lax in the wake of his orgasm as he moaned softly, eyelids fluttering dazedly. He had barely time to blink up at Young before Young’s hand was on him again, a palm full of fresh lubricant. Rush flinched slightly at the touch to his over sensitized flesh, and then squirmed as Young began to stroke him back to hardness. Rush’s brow furrowed, probably as his body tried to decide if this was more pleasurable or uncomfortable.

As his cock began to harden again, Rush found himself looking at the front of Young’s trousers. Goddamn that black uniform, it was so hard to see anything—

“No.”

Rush blinked quizzically at Young’s flat declaration. Young looked down at him steadily.

“You don’t get my cock tonight.”

It was an absurd thing to say really, and Rush was well aware that he should play it off as such. Sarcasm was invented for moments such as these. But the way the bottom dropped out from his stomach didn’t leave Rush much inclined to playing at anything.

Rush turned his head and stared straight at the ceiling as Young brought him to his second orgasm. He lay there, sweating and gasping, and Young took him in hand again. This time, he mewled pitifully. He was tender, far too tender, even with ample lubricant.

“H—” Rush started as Young stroked him. “Th-that is, how many…how many times…?” He was finding it difficult to string words together, but Young managed to understand him anyway.

“Till you can’t anymore.”

It took Rush a moment to process Young’s response.

“Wh…wh-what?” he wailed.

“Till. You. Can’t. Anymore.” Young repeated, calm as could be.

Rush stared at him, disbelieving, and then it began to sink in. Rush’s lip quivered and then the tears started to fall. He clenched his eyes shut and let his head fall back against the mattress.

His third orgasm was painful, and exhausting. When he started to harden a fourth time, a desperate whine burst from the back of his throat. It seemed impossible. There couldn’t be anything left, could there? He felt completely depleted. Empty.

In more ways than one, in matter of fact. That need to be filled was growing stronger and stronger, a desperate ache that left him squirming. He could feel the sludge of his semen dripping down his sides, and it was like the more he expended the more he needed something to take its place, to fill up that ever-present aching void inside him. More, even, than he wanted this torment to end, he wanted…needed…

Slut.

His fourth orgasm was pathetic, barely more than a twitch as he spilled a few drops onto his increasingly sticky stomach. Somehow, though, he still managed to get hard again, though it took a while. Rush dug his fingers into his legs, fighting the urge to inch them down…down toward where his arse was displayed but completely ignored. Beyond the basic humiliation of it, Rush was beginning to find his splayed position intolerably taunting.  

He felt his lower belly clench, the beginnings of another orgasm, and he mewled helplessly as his muscles tightened.

This one was completely dry. There wasn’t a single bit of cum left inside him, apparently. His penis softened brokenly as Young let it fall against his hip.

“There,” Young said, wiping his hand. “All done.”

Rush could have wept with relief, but he didn’t think there was any tears left either. He dug his nails into the back of his thighs and gasped for breath. A moment later, Young lifted Rush’s head and pressed a cup to his lips. Rush swallowed the cool water dutifully, though there were other things on his mind.

“So,” Rush rasped quietly as Young started to clean him up. “What about you?” Young didn’t respond. “Aren’t you goin—”

“Don’t even try it, Rush,” Young said tiredly, though not unkindly. “Nothing’s getting near your pretty little hole tonight. Now put your legs down.”  

Rush swallowed around the lump in his throat and slowly let his legs ease down to the bed. He stretched them out straight in front of him, thinking maybe that would lessen the acute urge inside him. It didn’t.

“What about my mouth?” he asked, feeling pathetic.

Young sighed. “No, Rush.”

Rush licked his lips. “I…” he started tentatively. “I could suck—”

“No, Rush. I told you you wouldn’t get my cock tonight, and I meant it—”

“…your finger?” Rush finished, fighting back fresh tears.

Has there ever been a more pathetic, wretched cock slut?

Rush gave his head a tiny shake.

No. Never.

Young was staring at him, unreadable as ever.

“Just…just a finger,” Rush pleaded, drenched in shame.

A long moment, and Young raised an index finger.

“Can you show me you can be good?” Young asked lowly, crooking an eyebrow.

Rush nodded vigorously.

Young gave a slow nod back. “Open your mouth. Don’t move till I say.”

Rush swallowed thickly and opened as wide as he could. Young placed his finger on the pad of Rush’s tongue and held it there. Rush blinked hard and sucked air in through his nose. He forced himself not to move, not to caress Young’s finger with his tongue or let his lips close one millimeter.

“…Okay,” Young said, an indefinable amount of time later. “Go ahead.”

Rush’s lips closed tight around the invading digit and he sucked hard, moaning wantonly. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but it was something. His cheeks hollowed as he fellated Young’s index finger, sliding his lips up and down its length with enough friction to make them burn. He felt wild, half out of control, as he reached and reached, trying to fill that emptiness inside, suckling Young’s finger like it was the only thing that could nourish him.

It did help. A little.

Eventually he let it fall from his lips with a shaky sigh, hardly satisfied, but close as he was likely to get.

Young was watching him with darkly hooded eyes. Rush dropped his own gaze, the heat of humiliation flickering blotchily over his skin.

“Alright,” Young said quietly. “Get under the covers. Lay on your side, eyes that way.”

Rush obediently slid under the sheets, turning away from Young and lying on his side. He pulled a pillow to his chest.

That was a good punishment for a whore like you. You think he knows? Exactly how bad this hurts? Maybe you should tell him. Bet he’d appreciate it.

Rush buried his face in the pillow, eyes stinging. He could hear Young behind him, undressing, and then the sounds of his masturbation. He should take that as a victory, Rush thought—‘see, that’s what you get when you don’t fuck me, y’bastard’. But instead it just made him more miserable.

Maybe he’ll come on you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

That didn’t happen though. Young came quietly and without the slightest gesture toward Rush. If Rush hadn’t been paying such close attention he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Useless.

Rush’s throat was painfully tight when Young slipped in behind him, settling along his back and wrapping his arms around him. Rush could feel the fabric of Young’s boxers and undershirt on his bare skin. Young rubbed soothing patterns over Rush’s arms, but it seemed distant, far away.

“Are you alright?” Young murmured into his ear.

“Fine,” Rush answered, keeping his voice soft to stop himself from crying.

The silence that followed felt oppressive, and Rush could tell Young wanted to say something. He didn’t though. Whether it was because he couldn’t think of what to say, or because he knew exactly what to say and knew it was a bad idea, Rush didn’t know.   He just kept rubbing his palms along Rush’s arms as though he was trying to communicate through that, but whatever it may have been that he wanted Rush to understand, Rush couldn’t begin to guess.

“Do you think,” Rush said finally, feeling hollow. It wasn’t like he had any pride left to protect, anyway. “You’ll want me in the morning?” He turned his face slightly over his shoulder towards Young. “Want…want to…that is…” He trailed off as he accidentally made eye contact, his verbiage having escaped him at the moment.

Young’s eyes glittered in the dark. Like stars.

“Probably,” Young replied, rich and resonant. There was so much spoken in those three syllables and Rush was certain he’d only caught half of it.

It was enough though. Rush sighed and let himself melt back against the warmth of Young’s body. His head lowered in sync with his eyelids and Rush very well may have been asleep when he hit the pillow.

Rush slept. And dreamt. His dreams weren’t quite of sleep this time, though they did involve lounging on a bed with his eyes closed. In his dream, the bed was impossibly soft. He could feel the delicate warmth of sunlight on his bare skin and his dream-self knew he was in a room that was more windows than walls, the sun blocked only by sheer white curtains. There was the faintest scent of vanilla in the air and the distant roar of the ocean.

And there were hands, hands touching him, hands everywhere, at least…at least eight hands. They combed fingers through his hair and wiped him down with warm, wet towels from his neck to the tips of his fingers and toes. They poured slick sensuous oils onto his skin and kneaded them into his muscles. They coaxed the knots from his back, relaxed the joints of his hands, and opened his tight, puckered entrance with deft fingers.

The hands were neither gentle nor harsh, but stretched him with a firm professionalism, careful not to cause pain but giving no special thought to his pleasure either, and Rush in his dream state was keenly aware that he was being prepared for something. They—whoever they were—were making him ready for something. For…for someone? Perhaps?

He shivered. Yes, someone, that was it. He remembered now (though perhaps remembered was not the right word). A pulsing pleasure settled in his veins, deeper, brighter, than lust.  

Rush had never had the privilege, or burden, of true physical attractiveness. Genetics had left him with angles in all the wrong places, at odds with his naturally slight frame. An upbringing that had left him without many cares or comforts had taken care of the rest (Rush’s tongue ran self-consciously over his decidedly imperfect teeth). Rush neither resented nor mourned this. He simply took it as fact.

But here, in this…near fairytale conjured from somewhere in the depths of his mind, Rush felt unreservedly, unapologetically, beautiful. He was beautiful. He knew it. And later—when his…‘Someone’ arrived—he would be more beautiful still.

SMACK!

Rush gasped, eyes flying open at the hard slap to his backside. The tendrils of his dream drifted away, dissipating into less than a memory as he was plunged into wakefulness.

He turned his head to see Young laying back down beside him. He watched, still catching his breath, as Young efficiently pushed down his underwear and slicked his erect cock with lube.

“Ride me,” Young ordered bluntly with a firm pinch to Rush’s still stinging cheeks.

Rush clenched his arse and felt the slick looseness there. Rush was still a bit disoriented, but he didn’t take offense at Young’s gruff treatment. He took it for what it was.

Impatience.

Rush scrambled to obey.          

He pushed himself up and swung a leg over Young’s hips. Young was already relaxed in his reclined state, eyes closed, trusting Rush to fulfill his command, and Rush got a small thrill from that alone. He took only a moment to line himself up and sank down, taking all of Young’s cock in one smooth motion.

Rush gasped and Young groaned, and that was all Rush could notice just then because God yes. That emptiness inside him was being suddenly, utterly, filled by the one thing that could truly satisfy its hunger. Rush put his hands on Young’s abdomen to steady himself as he threw his head back and simply felt the pure and absolute glory of Young’s cock inside him.

He only allowed himself a moment to revel, however, before forcing himself to lift back up and start a rhythm that left his thighs straining from exertion. Young said not a word and kept his eyes serenely closed, but his soft moans and occasionally bucking hips communicated his pleasure.

Rush drank in the sight of Young underneath him. With his eyes closed, he gave the appearance of suffering a particularly pleasant dream, and Rush grinned to himself, happy to be the dream in question. Young hadn’t spared him a glance since Rush had awoken, and for all Rush knew he could be imagining someone in his place—a buxom woman or lithe, perfectly muscled man, or perhaps simply thought of him as little more than a warm, willing arse.

Rush didn’t mind though; let him have his fantasies. It couldn’t stem the tingling warmth that ran through him with every beat of his heart, with every breath, with every twitch and thrust of Young’s cock inside him. He felt as though he were glowing, and though there was no one there to see, it didn’t seem to matter. His hand found its way to his hair and pulled the strands up against his head in a loose fist as sweat trickled down his spine.

He felt decadent, indulgent, rich, every cell alight and sparkling like a gemstone. Had he ever felt this sensuous? Certainly not since—

He broke that train of thought. Stay in the here, the now.

Just then, Young’s fingertips touched to the outside of his thighs, sliding up slowly. He felt his way with his eyes stubbornly shut, as though he wanted to experience everything solely through the tactile world. His palms settled on Rush’s hips, pressing the pads of his thumbs along the bones. Rush hmmed contentedly and placed his own hands over them, letting the firmness of Young’s grip ground him.

Some moments later though, biting his lip in a small smirk, he couldn’t resist moving Young’s hands back onto the globes of his arse, urging them to squeeze. Young groaned deeply and willingly complied, digging his fingers into the firm mounds of flesh. Rush grinned and left him to it, leaning forward to brace his hands on Young’s shoulders as he thrust down with renewed vigor.

He rode him. At gallop no less, and for a moment, Rush, who had never been on a horse in his life, imagined it really was a running beast between his legs, carrying him somewhere far, far away.

Young came with a growl and a bruising grip on his backside. Rush clenched, pulsingly, greedily, as Young spilled inside him, till he was filled with spunk as well as cock. Rush didn’t let up until Young began to soften, only then letting out a deep sigh and allowing his sore muscles to relax.

Young arms fell to his sides as he too let out a long, breathy sigh. Rush climbed off and collapsed, exhausted, onto his back. He rolled his shoulders against the mattress, panting and pleasantly sore. He glanced to his right and saw Young rolling his neck and pulling up his underwear, eyes still closed, and wondered if he’d go back to sleep. But a moment later, Young raised his hands, rubbing first over his face and then through his hair. When they moved away, Young was blinking and yawning contentedly.

Rush smiled.

Another yawn and a rub to his eyes, and Young turned to look at Rush.

“Good morning,” Rush greeted, a pleasant buzzing in his chest.

“Mm,” Young hummed. “Good morning.” He sounded like he had marbles in his mouth.  

Rush thought he should really stop himself from smiling so much but he honestly couldn’t be bothered.

Young rolled onto his side, resting his head on his fist, and leisurely trailed down Rush’s body with his eyes. Then he stopped. And frowned.

Rush felt his own smile leave his face, and glanced down. Young was clearly staring in the approximate direction of Rush’s crotch, but what the problem was, Rush didn’t have any idea.

“What?” Rush asked, squirming, a wave of self-consciousness running through it.

“You didn’t…you’re not…” Young started, that damnable frown still on his face.

“Not what?” Rush demanded impatiently.

Young’s eyes met Rush’s, an inscrutable look on his face.

“You’re not hard. Not even a little.” Young was looking at him pointedly, but Rush couldn’t pretend he was getting the point.

“Yeh,” Rush said, shrugging. “So?” It was true, his cock lay there limply, as it had since Rush had first woken, but Rush didn’t see what the issue was.

“So?” Young retorted, and oh great, now he was irritated.

Rush sputtered helplessly. “Bit demanding first thing in the morning, aren’t we?”

Young shot him a look that let him know he was not amused, and turned back onto his back with a snort.

“It’s not like you were gonna let me come anyway,” Rush said defensively, pushing up on his elbows. He was starting to get a bit cross himself.

Young actually looked a bit guilty at that (yeah, Rush thought, serves you right).

“You should have said something,” Young insisted, just a bit petulantly in Rush’s opinion.

Rush puffed out a breath. “Why?” he asked, drawing out the word condescendingly.

Young glared at him, actually appearing shocked. “Becau—” He broke off sputtering, then seemed to collect himself, a hard line forming along his jaw. “You were not aroused. At all. And I fucked you.”

Rush bit his tongue to try and reign in his temper. He did not appreciate being spoken to like a child.

“Do you have a point?” Rush spat out.

“I just—” Young cut off again and swallowed. He looked away, hands clenching into fists at his sides. Rush’s brow furrowed, his anger somewhat quieted at Young’s obvious distress. “I know that things are…complicated,” Young said slowly. “With us, with how we…do things.” Rush cocked his head, adjusting to this seeming change in topic as he assessed the situation. “There’s…that is, I get to do…certain things in this…arrangement, but…but it was always with the understanding that…that…” Young grumbled a bit as he pressed his lips together. “That we both enjoyed them. What…what we did.”

Rush’s eyes flickered. This all appeared to be old information, just a restating of what they both already knew, but if Young was bringing it up now…

Rush sighed. He was starting to get an idea of what going on here.

Young turned and looked at Rush, and in that moment he just looked so…so…

Open.

“You really don’t see anything wrong with this situation?” Young asked quietly, if leadingly.

Rush’s lips quirked and he rolled on his side.