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They’d had their fair share of missions gone wrong— but this one was definitely rocketing to the top of Hunter’s list for worst-ever .
First, half of the Separatist cell managed to escape, and in their escape, separated Hunter and Crosshair from Tech and Wrecker.
Second, Hunter gave the order for Tech and Wrecker to keep up the pursuit— he didn’t doubt that they could handle the firefight and mop-up themselves, still in the Havoc Marauder . That left him and Crosshair left behind on the now-abandoned planet. At least Tech had the care to jettison an emergency survival kit from the Marauder before hitting hyperspace.
Third, on their way to the kit, Hunter and Crosshair both ended up taking a dip in a nearly-frozen river.
Their armor and blacks could thermoregulate to a certain point, but the idea of spending the entire night damp and shuddering is not appealing. Without needing to talk it out, the two strip off their armor after setting up the small tent, double-lining their two sleeping bags. The only light in the dark tent is a single cracked glowstick.
Shivering, bare but for his briefs, Hunter hesitates. He’s hunched over a little, the small space filled up with the stacks of their armor and boxes of emergency supplies they hopefully won’t need to use.
Crosshair was faster getting his armor off, already in the sleeping bag, his back to Hunter. Hunter looks at the line of Crosshair’s spine, bare skin almost glowing in the light from the glowstick. They’ve been in some tight squeezes before, but that’s always with two layers of Katarn between them, with adrenaline and necessity. And this is still a necessity, sure, but Hunter is shivering in the cold and feels somehow like his nearly naked body is an imposition on Crosshair, that as sergeant he should find some other way to keep both of their asses from freezing overnight.
After one beat, two, Crosshair shoots a glare over his shoulder— the same look he employs every time he thinks Hunter is being unreasonably obtuse about something. Snorting, Hunter shrugs off his reserves and slips into the sleeping bag behind Crosshair. It’s not too tight of a fit, designed to be large enough for a fully armored Wrecker to fit inside, but there really is nowhere to maneuver. Hunter tries to press himself back against the side seam— Crosshair seems to be trying the same but forwards— and there’s nowhere for Hunter to put his hands that wouldn’t have some part of him touching Crosshair’s back.
When his fingers brush the skin of Crosshair’s lower back, he hisses.
“Your hands are kriffing freezing,” he huffs.
Hunter is about to scoff something back— he didn’t jump into that river on purpose— when Crosshair reaches back, grabbing Hunter’s hand and pressing it to the hot, smooth skin of his side, fingers covering Hunter’s and rubbing a little. Warming them. Wordless, Hunter swallows, pleasure turning in his belly, at the warmth, at the gesture— Crosshair makes another little sound and releases him, but doesn’t shove Hunter’s hand away. He keeps it there, relaxing a little. It’s just Crosshair , after all, for all his spit and fire, he’d never do anything to hurt Hunter, wouldn’t turn the knife on him for some inevitable touching.
Melting a little forward, smelling Crosshair’s scent in his hair, Hunter falls asleep surprisingly easy. He doesn’t dream; one second he’s dozing off, and the next, he’s waking up, slowly, warm, feeling well rested and content.
It’s not often that their sleep isn’t strictly regulated, watches and field-kips and the automatic lighting system on Kamino. Hunter keeps his eyes closed, trying to remember if he dreamed of anything. There’s ghost sensations, pressure on his skin, something warm melting in his mouth. He rubs himself against the mattress, sighing a little at the pleasant friction, half-hard. It’d been a long time since he’d had the inclination or the freedom to jack one off in the morning, maybe if he was early enough, if they weren’t due for training…
Then the mattress moves, and Hunter wakes up fully.
His breath catches as the scene reveals itself to him: he’s got his hands on Crosshair’s hips, almost flush with his back, warm from neck to groin, and he’s— and he’s—
Fuck . He’s rubbing his hard-on against Crosshair’s ass.
And from the way Crosshair’s head is turning, catching Hunter with the corner of his eye, he’s awake. And he can feel it.
Words stick in Hunter’s throat as he opens and closes his mouth, trying to come up with something to say, an apology or an explanation—
“You wanna keep going like this, or can I turn over?” Crosshair asks, sounding, thankfully, more amused than angry. Hunter feels relieved. He nods, releasing his hold on Crosshair’s hips, and although he realizes too late that he can’t see, Crosshair gets the idea and turns over. A good idea, Hunter thinks, this way maybe they’ll knock knees or foreheads, but Hunter’s groin will get the idea with nothing to rut against—
Crosshair rolls over, but instead of pushing himself back against the seam of the sleeping bag, he remains close, angling in. Hunter leans back, tipping over onto his back, head reeling, and Crosshair—
Crosshair is hard, too. Half-mast but still a noticeable stiffness where he brushes against Hunter’s hip, almost draping himself across Hunter’s body. He sucks in a breath, something electric shooting up his spine at the soft press of Crosshair’s belly, his chest, to his own. He’s gotta be dreaming. Nowhere other than in dreams has— but he’d made himself forget all those times, and now he’s unmoored, eyes darting down to Crosshair’s lips before Crosshair leans in.
The press of their lips together is soft but insistent— Hunter never thought the two might go together, but the gentle tilt of Crosshair’s head, the caress of his lips, is partnered with an impression of force that makes not-panic rise in Hunter’s chest. Heartbeat rising, blood pumping, Hunter’s skin feels hot and too tight, but instead of wanting to escape or get some space, if anything he just wants more .
More comes in the shape of Crosshair biting at his lower lip. Just a brief moment of sharp pressure, and Hunter gasps. Crosshair is there as his mouth opens, swallowing the noise and sealing their lips together and— oh . The slide of Crosshair’s tongue is like nothing Hunter has ever felt before. Slick and warm, Hunter is lost in the sensation, a desperate noise working up in his chest and dying in his throat as Crosshair hollows his cheeks, sucking, tilting his chin so the seal of their lips breaks, his tongue pressing deeper, caressing along the line of Hunter’s teeth. It’s so much wetter with their lips loose and sliding over each other, soaking fucking wet, and this time a desperate whine breaks through.
The tent is silent, so empty-planet quiet, the wet lapping of their mouths obscenely loud. Hunter’s brain refuses to think, awash with waves of pleasure each time Crosshair’s lips slide over his own. The chill in the air is evacuating, quickly replaced by a velvety, all-over heat that pools in Hunter’s belly.
Crosshair breaks the kiss, pulling back and leaving Hunter reeling, blinking up at him and panting like he’s just run an obstacle course in full kit. Crosshair props himself up on one elbow and pets Hunter’s belly with smooth, soothing strokes, grinning as he feels Hunter’s ab muscles jump. “What do you want?” he asks, so easily, like they’re discussing battle plans, like his lips aren’t bright and wet from kissing. “I’ll make it good.” His hand drops to squeeze Hunter’s bulge through his briefs, and Hunter bucks up into his grip, cursing. Crosshair’s smile grows deeper, sharp and hungry.
“Yeah,” Hunter breathes. It’s everything he’s been trying not to want, presented on a silver platter. He’s dizzy with it, heart pounding, “sure I— I don’t know—”
“You look so good on your back. Want me to put you on my fingers?” Crosshair purrs, mistaking his lack of knowledge for eagerness. He puts his mouth down close to Hunter’s ear, stroking along the line of his hard-on with meandering fingers, cupping his balls and teasing the sensitive spot behind them. The sensation is total, overwhelming, but even that is its own kind of pleasure. Surrendering himself up to Crosshair’s attention, he doesn’t have to worry about thinking at all, and turning off that part of his brain is just freeing up more grey matter to flood with dopamine.
Crosshair breathes hot on the skin below Hunter’s ear, sucks a wet kiss there before biting down and withdrawing. “I can fuck you till you’re begging,” he whispers into Hunter’s ear.
“ Cross ,” Hunter whimpers, head spinning.
Crosshair’s hand goes still and he freezes for a second before pulling back to peer down at Hunter’s face, brows drawn in confusion. “Too much?” he asks, and moves his hand back to hold onto Hunter’s hip. Hunter shifts, arching his back a little, mourning the lack of contact. Crosshair watches him, eyes flickering. “We can stop if you want,” Crosshair says, quiet, and moves to shift even further away— Hunter’s hand flies up and grabs his elbow, holding him from withdrawing.
He swallows once, twice, trying to find the words. “Don’t stop,” he says, and Crosshair melts a little closer, but stays watching him, brows drawn together. “I want this. I just…” Hunter’s eyes drop to Crosshair’s bare chest. He takes his free hand and draws his knuckles down the center furrow in Crosshair’s abdomen, feels him suck in a breath between clenched teeth. Encouraged, Hunter palms along Crosshair’s side, feeling the smooth heat of his skin. He wants it back against him so badly he feels half out of his mind with it.
“This is new territory for me,” he admits, feeling heat climb up his neck.
“New…” Crosshair echoes, and Hunter wants to tuck and hide his face against Crosshair’s chest. He’s still so damn far away, and Hunter squirms again, trying to get closer, dropping his grip on Crosshair’s elbow to stroke up his back and cup his shoulders. Crosshair acquiesces, sinking in close enough that Hunter can feel the heat of his skin. The bare inch between their cocks makes his mouth go dry. He glances up at Crosshair’s face, and he’s frowning like he’s confused, thinking. “I thought you… What about Alpha?” Crosshair asks.
Hunter frowns back; did Crosshair think he’d been fucking their trainer? He trained with the man one-on-one almost as much as he trained with the rest of the Batch, but that was all it was, training. In fact most of it was pretty dry and wordless, both men having a mutual respect for not jawing when the situation didn’t call for it. And once the Batch went from being cadets to being in the field, they stopped having any contact at all.
He shakes his head, silently, and watches as a few different but equally unreadable expressions shuffle on and off of Crosshair’s face.
“You,” Hunter starts, and has to clear his throat, voice wrecked. Something hot sparks in Crosshair’s eyes at the sound. “You… have, though,” he guesses, lamely.
Crosshair nods, expression drawn and shuttered. He stays at a distance, looking at Hunter, and still restlessly shifting, Hunter drags his hands up and down Crosshair’s flanks, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs, every inch of him lean muscle. Hunter knows, obliquely, that other clones fool around, fuck each other, whatever— Kamino is a bit puritanical, everything kept a little more under wraps than it sounds like the reality is once off-world, but he’s heard odd noises from supply rooms and found the showers inexplicably locked when he’s wanted to clear his head at off times.
“With the regs?” Hunter guesses. If it had been with Wrecker or Tech he would have seen something.
“A few regs,” Crosshair confirms, tone tight. “Here and there.”
Hunter nods, shoving down the strange bubble of possessiveness that rises up in his chest. Crosshair can do what he likes when they’re not on a mission, and if he wants to fuck regs, that’s his perogative. Crosshair drops his eyes to Hunter’s neck, and the hand on his hip starts to slowly go back to petting his belly, tracing the outline of his abs, the black swoops of his tattooed ribs. Hunter manages to clench down on a shiver, but his skin still breaks out in goosebumps.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Crosshair says, then, and Hunter’s heart skips a beat at how resigned he sounds. “I just thought— I thought you were…”
Hunter winces. Crosshair hadn’t realized Hunter was asleep, rutting out a wet dream. He thought he’d been trying to start something. Crosshair turns his face, though he doesn’t pull away from Hunter’s arms and his hand continues to idly trace lines across Hunter’s chest.
It takes him a moment to find his voice. “I’m not complaining,” he says, and reaches up to cup Crosshair’s cheek in one palm. The sniper jolts a little, eyes flickering to Hunter’s face, like he wasn’t expecting such a gesture. Hunter swipes his thumb along Crosshair’s cheekbone, feeling where his in-the-field stubble is coming in. “I want this. If you do.”
Crosshair nods, slowly. Hunter drops his hand and touches Crosshair’s chest. It’s easier to watch his hand map out the line of Crosshair’s collarbones, his pecs, than to watch his face.
“I, uh, probably won’t be as good as the regs,” Hunter says, swallows, “but I—”
Crosshair stops him with a displeased hiss, hand flashing up to grab Hunter’s chin so hard he’s momentarily frozen, eyes back on Crosshair’s face, the pain in contrast to the lazy pleasure still in his veins doing something very interesting to his insides. “ You ,” Crosshair insists, tone dangerous, “are better than any reg.”
“ Cross ,” Hunter exhales, shaky and dizzy, and Crosshair melts down over him, slotting their mouths back together. Hunter sighs, blanketed in Crosshair’s warmth, and tightens his arms around Crosshair’s back, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other following the line of his spine to the small of his back. He touches at the waistband of Crosshair’s briefs with his fingertips, suddenly cowed by the risk of doing something wrong. Crosshair knows what he’s doing, and so far as Hunter’s concerned, he’s good at it; he wants to make it as good for Crosshair as it already is for him.
Huffing a little into Hunter’s mouth, Crosshair rolls his body, shifting so their legs are slotted together, his hard-on pressing into Hunter’s hip. Hunter rocks up into the contact, and when Crosshair’s breath hitches, he does it again.
After another minute of slow, deliberate kissing, Crosshair goes up on his elbows, back bowed. He ducks his head, peering down their bodies, and oh so deliberately lifts his hips, rolling his body to rub their cocks together. The hard of line of Crosshair’s dick dragging along the damp front of Hunter’s briefs makes him groan, hips trying to chase the friction. “ Fuck, Crosshair.”
Crosshair glances up at his face, smile sharp, and lowers himself back down, his face tucked into Hunter’s neck. He sucks and bites along the line of his throat, ripping noises out of Hunter’s chest, each one shockingly loud to his ears. He had no idea that he was capable of any of those noises, and his face burns.
At least in this position, Hunter has more leverage to grind his hips, humping shamelessly at the muscle of Crosshair’s thigh. Chasing the sweet pressure, he reaches down and gropes Crosshair’s ass, squeezing the firm muscle and pulling his hips down further— Crosshair groans against his neck, the noise making Hunter shiver. Crosshair grinds his hips in small circles, nips at Hunter’s pulse point, and pulls his head back.
“What— hh— what do you want?” he asks, pupils so blown. Hunter’s face feels flushed, expression out of his control, and he tries to hide from Crosshair’s eyes, but the sniper’s hands comb his sweaty hair away from his face, elbows bracketing him in. “Hunter,” Crosshair insists, pinning him with his eyes. “Whatever you want.”
“I don’t—” Hunter squeezes his eyes shut, shivering. “ Fuck , Crosshair, I can’t think straight, you’ve got me out of my mind right now.”
Blinded, Hunter jumps a little as Crosshair brushes their mouths together. He doesn’t go for anything with tongue, however, pulling back and landing soft, gentle touches on Hunter’s lips, his cheekbones, his hands going gentle in Hunter’s hair. The tenderness wrenches a bruised noise out of Hunter’s chest, and he clings to Crosshair’s back, feeling some of his mounting anxiety ebb back away into pleasure.
“I could start listing ideas,” Crosshair whispers across Hunter’s lips. A shiver ripples through his body, and to his further embarrassment, wetness spreads across the front of his briefs, trapped against Crosshair’s thigh, as his cock drools precome. There’s no way Crosshair can’t feel it, and he hums, circling his hips minutely. “But I don’t think that’d calm you down any.”
Hunter huffs an indignant laugh. Crosshair’s not wrong, but Hunter’s not the only guilty party in the tent. “You said…” he swallows. Here he is, wet and shivering and grinding against Crosshair’s cock, and he can’t make himself say it— putting his desires into words feels all too public, as alone as they are in the tent, on the very planet .
“I say a lot of things.”
Hunter finds a scant inch of pliant flesh around Crosshair’s middle and pinches. It only makes Crosshair jolt a little and then chuckle. Hunter licks his lips, swallows. “You said… on your fingers.”
Crosshair’s breath hitches, and Hunter feels his cock twitch against his hip. “I can do that,” Crosshair purrs. “Fuck you with my fingers. Is that what you want? Me opening up your tight ass, taking you apart?”
The filth and red-hot promise in his voice makes Hunter’s throat go dry. When he speaks, he sounds wrecked, on edge, desperate. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, and widens the spread of his legs. “ Please, Cross.”
Swearing, Crosshair’s entire body shudders under Hunter’s hands. “Yes, sir ,” he says, and before Hunter can swat or bite him, he shifts away, up onto his hands and knees, as far from Hunter’s body as he can get without leaving the sleeping bag. He stretches out one arm, out of the way, trying to paw at their pile of armor. It stretches his torso over Hunter’s face, so close that Hunter can’t not lean up and lick across one dark nipple. Crosshair gasps, an encouraging noise, and Hunter noses into Crosshair’s chest, sucking and licking, savoring the taste of sweat.
Crosshair gets what he wants, a small bottle of gun oil, and sinks back down over Hunter, snaring him in a filthy kiss. He breaks it off, Hunter left reeling, lightheaded with pleasure.
“Turn on your side.” Hunter does as he’s told, rolling onto his side facing Crosshair. Crosshair slides his own briefs down his thighs, his cock bobbing free. Hunter’s mouth goes dry, looking down at it in the dim light. The slick head is shiny with precome.
Brisk, businesslike, Crosshair slides Hunter’s briefs down his legs, not even sparing a loose hand for his cock— instead he’s focused on freeing Hunter’s top leg, tugging it up and wrapping it around his waist. The position brings their cocks together, smooth, hot skin, and Hunter rocks into the contact, sighing at the comfort of skin on skin. Crosshair’s hand paws at his ass, squeezing the muscle and pulling just so, exposing the pucker of Hunter’s hole. Hunter shivers, so hungry for whatever Crosshair wants to give him.
“You ever finger yourself before?” Crosshair asks, watching Hunter’s face.
His attention makes him squirm, feeling hot all over. “Once,” he admits, “when we were still in the pods.” Their last nights in the cadet sleeping pods, actually— the threat of no more privacy had made him bold.
Crosshair rewards his answer with a filthy kiss, stroking along his hole with the pads of his fingers. He pulls back, leaving Hunter panting. “Did you come?” he asks next.
Pressing his lips together, Hunter shakes his head. Crosshair’s trigger finger presses, dry, against his hole, not trying to breach him, just making promises, and Hunter’s hips jerk, toes curling. Then it withdraws.
“Did you come all over yourself?” Crosshair purrs, putting his face close to Hunter’s, breath intermingling. Hunter tries to lean forward to kiss him, and Crosshair withdraws, teasing, grinning. “Hunter.”
“Fuck,” Hunter growls, thudding his head back to the thin pillow. “No. Didn’t— hnng — Couldn’t… make it feel good.”
Crosshair croons a humming noise that goes straight to Hunter’s cock. “How about now?” he asks, and presses a knuckle against his hole, insistent and angled so it feels bigger than his finger, and Hunter gasps, his hands spasming on Crosshair’s shoulders. He makes a pleading noise, tucking his face against Crosshair’s neck. He has enough care to press open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of Crosshair’s throat, the fine lines of his collarbone, rewarded with Crosshair humming his appreciation, stroking Hunter’s taint with intent.
The click of Crosshair flicking open the bottle of lube is so clear that Hunter can almost feel it like a whip, licking down the length of his spine. Crosshair shifts a little, hiking his leg up higher, and then the slick wet touch of a lubed finger circles the rim of Hunter’s hole, spreading lube.
“Relax,” Crosshair whispers into Hunter’s temple. He’s shivering, tense, but he tries to do as he’s told, exhaling and loosening the tight coil of his muscles. Crosshair bobs his finger in and out, not quite breaching the ring of muscle, just getting a rhythm going. It feels like it takes him ages to finally push past the knot of muscle, the way burning a little despite the lube. Hunter shifts, uncomfortable, face burning. Crosshair kisses his temple, his free hand stroking along Hunter’s spine. “I’ve got you,” he says, adds more lube, and goes back to stroking Hunter’s insides.
When he slips his second finger in, the stretch makes Hunter keen. “ Fuck , Cross,” he says, cutting off a groan. In the silence of the tent, his panting isn’t enough to cover the wet noise of Crosshair’s fingers, fucking him. He’s still so hard, his cock trapped against Crosshair’s. Clenching his abs and rocking his hips brings some welcome pressure, as well as rocking him further onto Crosshair’s fingers.
Then Crosshair curls his fingers just so and a strangled noise comes ripping out of Hunter’s chest. “ Oh ,” he says, shaky. Crosshair strokes that spot again and again, sparks firing up Hunter’s spine. His cock is almost throbbing, rubbing with too little friction against Crosshair’s belly. He whimpers, cock twitching, trying to find friction.
Crosshair pulls his fingers out, and Hunter’s hole clenches, feeling empty, his face blazing with heat at the sensation. Crosshair shifts them, moving so he’s lower, his face tucked against Hunter’s throat, sucking slow, hot kisses along his skin. He reaches under Hunter’s leg, and when he slides three fingers in, the new angle lets him go deeper, his knuckles catching on Hunter’s rim. His thumb presses against his perineum, and Hunter moans, high and wavering.
“Never thought you’d be so loud,” Crosshair mutters against his throat. “So kriffing hot.”
“Cross,” Hunter whimpers, but there’s nowhere for him to hide his face, no way for him to cover his mouth, his hands desperately petting at Crosshair’s back and shoulders. His cock rubs, wet and weeping, against Crosshair’s chest, as Crosshair’s fingers stroke again and again over that spot inside of Hunter that makes him see stars. He realizes that he’s whimpering, high-pitched little noises at every stroke of Crosshair’s fingers. “Cross, I’m—I’m—”
Crosshair’s lips close down on Hunter’s chest and sucks a hard mark, making Hunter gasp. “Gonna come?” he drawls, “Fuck, I wanna see your face. Wanna— hnng — wanna taste you.” Crosshair pulls his fingers out and rolls Hunter over, halfway onto his back, and sprawls between Hunter’s legs. Hunter’s dick, his fucking hole , throbs with want. His legs are shaking with it. Crosshair goes to slip his fingers back inside, but Hunter catches his wrist.
Crosshair freezes, eyes flickering to Hunter’s face.
Hunter bites down on his lip, then chokes out, “Can you fuck me?”
Crosshair’s lips quirk. “I thought that was what I was doing,” he hisses, and tugs his wrist away from Hunter’s grasp; Hunter lets him go, shivers as Crosshair just strokes at his hole, still slick with lube. The muscle flutters, Hunter’s face ablaze as he body tries to beg Crosshair back inside. Inside. Hunter’s toes curl.
“Not with your fingers,” he manages.
Crosshair freezes, shifts— Hunter feels his cock fucking jump against Hunter's thigh , precome making the red head slick and shiny. “Yeah?” Crosshair asks. “What do you want me to use, then?” he challenges, grabs his dick by the root, deliberately strokes the head down the underside of Hunter’s cock, laying on his belly. Hunter shudders at the sensation. “Hunter,” Crosshair hums, shifts to stroke the head of his cock across Hunter’s perineum. “Want to hear you say it,” he groans, and the broad head of his cock rests against Hunter’s hole.
Hunter feels like he’s going to fly apart at any second. “Fuck me,” he manages to breathe, voice wavering, “fuck me with your— with your cock. Please,” he adds, and Crosshair rewards him with a sweet, lingering kiss. Then he pushes in.
The broad head feels huge, massive, as it clears his rim. Crosshair groans like he’s been shot, the noise making Hunter whine. Crosshair pulls, but not out, tugging at the hot suck of Hunter’s hole, before sinking deeper. He rocks, back and forth, careful and slow the lube really not enough to stop the friction from burning, until Hunter is shaking. It feels like it’s going deeper than his fingers did, plunging depths Hunter didn’t know he had until now— didn’t know how good it could feel, how full.
Crosshair is painting, shaky with it, up on his hands and looking down to where their bodies are joined. “So fucking tight,” he mutters, and Hunter’s dick jumps, spattering drops of precome. “So fucking good—” Crosshair moans, sinking down until his hips are pressed against Hunter’s pelvis, down to the hilt. Hunter can feel Crosshair’s heartbeat, inside of him , and the intimacy of it— he’s never done this before, no one has been inside him like this— he spirals a bit, down a long coil of pleasure, Crosshair all the way down, inside and on top of him. His toes curl. He’s so close, so close, but he can’t make his voice come.
Crosshair pulls back, slow, then thrusts in, quick and hard, hitting that spot inside Hunter— his stroking fingers had been good, but this is a flood of pleasure, a punch right to Hunter’s guts. His hands scrabble up Crosshair’s arms, cupping his biceps. He’s squirming, trying to get that feeling again, but Crosshair takes it slow on the outstroke, thrusting hard and deep again— he thrusts once, twice, and Hunter cries out, coming all over himself.
For a second, Crosshair is still, Hunter clenched tight around him. Hunter keens on every panting exhale, legs shaking— he’s never come like that before in his life, and Crosshair hadn’t even touched his cock. Looking down at Hunter, Crosshair’s face is slack with— awe . Like Hunter is the best thing he’s ever seen. Hunter feels like his face is gonna catch on fire.
The pleasure starts to wane, and scorching embarrassment takes its place; with his come pooling on his belly, his chest, and Crosshair’s cock still splitting him open, Hunter turns his face away, biting on his lip. Crosshair, with so much more experience, and here Hunter just went off like a kriffing shiny whose dick never got touched before—
Crosshair sinks down over him on his elbows. He’s panting, hot breath blooming over Hunter’s skin. “So kriffing hot,” he groans, claims Hunter’s mouth and swallows his whimper. He pulls back, eyes pinning Hunter in place. “Was it good?” he groans, rolling his hips, and Hunter gasps at the feeling— he’s sore, and his cock has gone soft, but there’s a dull pleasure behind the friction. “Did you like coming on my cock?” he asks, voice low, and Hunter’s breath goes shaky, clutching at Crosshair’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” he manages to choke out, “y-yeah, Cross. Fuck. Fuck— don’t stop.”
Groaning, Crosshair drops his head so their foreheads are pressed together, sharing air. He continues a low, steady pace, and Hunter gasps and groans through alternating strokes of pain and pleasure.
When Crosshair’s arms start to shake, thrusts losing pace, Hunter knows he’s close. Crosshair pants, sucks on Hunter’s bottom lip, pulls back. “What me to make you a mess?” he asks, voice wrecked. He lifts up one hand to stroke through the come on Hunter’s chest and belly, already smeared by their bodies, rubbing against each other as Crosshair fucked him. “ Fuck , want to see you— covered in my come—” his thrusts become erratic, shaking.
Hunter comes to a decision with himself, wrapping his legs around Crosshair’s hips, drinking in his moan as he sinks even deeper, biting back his own gasp at the sensation. The very fact that Crosshair is fucking him, using him to get off, while Hunter can’t even get hard, is hot as hell. It leaves him trembling— he wants— he wants—
“Inside,” Hunter chokes out, almost blinded with his own embarrassment, the shame of wanting it, begging for it— Crosshair will walk out of here knowing how much it turns Hunter on, the thought of him— “Want to. Want to feel you.”
“ Fuck ,” Crosshair chokes out, drives in deep, and he comes, cock twitching, pulsing— Hunter gasps, crying out, toes curling at the hot wetness spreading deep inside of him as Crosshair unloads. Crosshair pulls back, not all the way out, thrusts in again, and Hunter clenches, helping to milk every last drop into his ass.
“So fucking good,” Crosshair breathes, shaking and half-collapsed over him, and Hunter whimpers.
Crosshair pulls out, slowly, and Hunter winces at the feeling, come leaking out of him, but only for a second before Crosshair scoops the sticky line of come up on two fingers and presses it back inside his hole. He drapes himself over Hunter, mindless of the mess, and kisses him, languid, breathless, while Hunter quakes.
“Perfect,” he sighs, fingers playing with his rim, apparently changing his mind as he starts to stroke out the mess, dripping down Hunter’s crack. Hunter’s face is on fire, but he pushes his hips down into the contact anyway. Crosshair hums an approving noise, lays soft kisses on his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his temple. “So good for me,” Crosshair murmurs, and Hunter’s breathing goes all shaky.
“Cross,” he says, and Crosshair takes his hand away, keeps kissing him. Hunter’s arms feel like jelly as he wraps them around Crosshair’s back, holding him; he’s floaty and satisfied and embarrassed and still kinda turned on, dick twitching and trying to get back to full hardness. Their lips meet and slide languidly together, Crosshair darting his tongue in only to pull it teasingly back.
Crosshair hums, smoothes his clean hand through Hunter’s hair, pulling back searching his face. Hunter cringes a little, looking away— his mind floods with all of the sounds, desperate and needy, that Crosshair is now privy to. How can he face him again after this? And sure, Crosshair seemed into it, but Hunter’s inexperience must have showed…
“Hey.” Crosshair’s frowning, peering down at his face. “What is it?”
Hunter makes a helpless noise. Crosshair waits. He’s good at that, could wait for a target to get in range for hours. Hunter squirms helplessly. “Sorry,” he starts with, and Crosshair's frown deepens, “sorry I couldn’t— hold on,” he says. “Uh.”
“ Hunter .” Crosshair glares down at him. “Stop. You’re perfect . You were perfect.” His hand soothes through Hunter’s hair again, and his eyes are prickling. “Did you like it?” he asks.
Swallowing, Hunter can only nod. Crosshair echoes the motion, ducks down to kiss him. Pulling back, his eyes are dark, and maybe Hunter can feel okay. “I liked it,” Crosshair murmurs. More heat comes up Hunter’s neck, but now it’s pleasant. Crosshair hums, kisses him again. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long,” he whispers across Hunter’s lips. “Wondered what you’d feel like… what you’d sound like when you came. Heard you… jerking off before.”
Hunter gasps as Crosshair starts to kiss at his neck, gently sucking between his teeth. He’s getting hard again, head dizzy with it. He thought he’d been quiet, wanking in the early hours of morning or late at night to help get to sleep.
“Did you ever hear me?” Crosshair asks. “Tried to… jack off whenever I heard you. Got me so hard, just thinking about you, coming in the sheets just across the room…”
“Y-yes,” Hunter whispers, because he had, he had and it’d blurred into his dreams, dreams that he realizes are starting to really, honestly come true as Crosshair kisses down his chest.
“You want me,” Crosshair says, looking up Hunter’s chest at him. “I want you,” he says, and his hand tightens on Hunter’s hip, possessive. “So… are we good?”
Hunter swallows and manages to nod, even as it feels like his heart is about to burst. “Yeah,” he says, sighs really, “yeah, we’re good.”
“Good,” Crosshair says, and ducks his head. He licks, pressing his tongue flat, against the divot between Hunter’s pecs, licking up a bead of pearly come. Hunter bites back a moan. Crosshair works down his front, licking up his spill, sucking marks here and there as his ab muscles jump. By the time Crosshair reaches his hips, biting at one crease, his dick is hard again, and leaking. Hunter gasps like he’s been shot when Crosshair takes the sensitive head into his mouth, suckling wet heat.
He pops off of Hunter’s cock, eyes glimmering desire up the length of Hunter’s body. “Turn over,” he orders, voice husky, and Hunter scrambles to do as he’s told without hitting Crosshair in the head with his knee. Crosshair presses his hands up Hunter’s thighs, squeezing his ass cheeks, together, then apart, playing with him as more come oozes out. “Good,” he croons, the compliment a reward that goes right up Hunter’s spine like a firework.
There’s only a puff of breath as warning before Crosshair’s tongue presses flat against the fluttering muscle of Hunter’s hole, and he moans, full from his chest, as Crosshair laps at him, the noise obscenely wet and curling right in Hunter’s belly. Crosshair, eating the come out of Hunter’s sloppy hole, licking up from his balls, cleaning him with long, languid strokes. Hunter is shaking, close to coming within minutes. His cock drools against the bottom of the sleeping bag; Hunter is up on his knees and elbows, shoulders hiked, to try and keep from rubbing against the hard floor. He wants to last, wants to last—
Crosshair nips at one cheek, the sharp promise of teeth making Hunter whimper. “Cross,” he pleads, “ please , I want— I want—” Crosshair’s tongue presses into him, curling, and Hunter keens. “I’m close,” he manages to choke out as Crosshair withdraws.
“Turn over,” Crosshair hisses, and Hunter lands back on his back. Again, without warning, Crosshair swallows him down, bobbing his head, sweet sucking heat. One long pull, two, Crosshair’s fingers in his ass, curling just right, and Hunter comes, vision whiting out with the intensity of it.
He’s gasping, shaking, panting, as Crosshair crawls back up his body. This time, there’s no shame or embarrassment, even considering that there’s no secret part of his body, now, that Crosshair hasn’t delved with his tongue— wordlessly, he tilts up into Crosshair’s mouth, open for him, and the first swipe of Crosshair’s tongue against his brings the bitter, salty taste of come, slippery— Crosshair pushes some of Hunter’s come into his mouth, making Hunter jolt as he realizes that Crosshair hadn’t swallowed.
His reaction makes Crosshair pause, has him pulling back, breaking the kiss, but then Hunter’s hand flies up, secures a grip on the back of his neck, and pulls him forcefully back down. Hunter sucks greedily at Crosshair’s mouth, drinking himself off of Crosshair’s tongue, feeling the answering shiver travel down Crosshair’s back, under his hand. When there’s nothing left but tongues and spit between them, Crosshair is panting, Hunter feeling calm and warm and sated.
“Good,” Hunter sighs, and drags his fingers through Crosshair’s short crop of hair. “So fucking good, Cross.”
Crosshair grins down at him, obviously pleased, and pecks him on the lips. “We should do this again sometime.”
Hunter tightens his grip. “We will ,” he says, with conviction. Now that he knows Crosshair feels the same, something fierce and protective is rising up in him, and he doesn't have the heart to beat it down.
Crosshair’s grin only gets sharper. He settles down over Hunter, head on his shoulder, legs tangled together. “Is that an order?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” Hunter says, and Crosshair tucks his bright smile against his neck, kissing his approval.
“Good,” he croons, stroking his fingers, and the sleep that claims them both is long and warm and perfect.