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Get out, his head says. Get out of this armor, get out of the suit, get out of this damn, no, shitty heat.
Sam huffs. As much as his legs, his muscles are screaming at him, begging him to just sit down and stop, he continues forward. Trudging through the desert heat, kicking up dust and gravel on a worn down path. They're almost back to the temp base. Truly, it's not that far of a walk back. It was still visible in the distance from the spot he and Raiden had sparred at, but with the aching joints, the sore cuts, dry air…stinging hot skin… it couldn't be any farther away.
With a quick glance over the shoulder, there's Raiden. His head hangs low, his posture sluggish and weak. Each step of his is met with a dull thunk on the cracked dirt beneath him. His now dirty blonde hair covers most of his face, clinging to it with sweat. Sam can see his mouth slightly ajar, silently panting. He's obviously struggling, and if Sam didn't have the confidence in him, he's sure he would've passed out minutes ago. But he doesn't blame him, getting your ass beat will do that to you.
At long last, there's the front door. With a practiced motion Sam punches in the code and with a swift hiss the door opens. The small base is akin to a flat, the kitchen and lounge area all connected while the bedroom and restrooms are located down a hall. It's a stop between the major bases of Maverick, but with the deadly exhaustion that's hanging low on the duo's heads, with the sun almost near the horizon, it'll serve as a resting point tonight.
No time is wasted. Sam nearly throws himself on the couch, the springs groaning out their complaints under the weight. He takes off the armor, starting with the top, working his way down. He's taking off the plates surrounding his thighs when Raiden finally appears at the doorway. Raiden rests himself against the frame of the entrance, eyes shut as he concentrates on catching his breath. He licks his lips, dry from the desert air. The tongue swipes over a mildly deep cut on the side of his bottom lip, his mouth filling up with the taste of iron.
Sam eyes him carefully. With one last clink the last of his exterior armor falls to the floor. All that's left is the firm body fitting like suit underneath, akin to the one Raiden wears now. He disregarded the usual cybernetic armor he's used to wearing, opting for the suit, with the fake skin underneath. It looks good on him. The fabric clings to every muscle, every curve. Gives definition to Raiden's well toned chest and abdomen, shows off the narrowness of his small waist, leads the eyes naturally to those hips, to the well rounded thighs, slender legs…
The suit looks really good on him.
“Are you going to make it?”
Raiden finally lifts his head up, gaze meeting Sams. He sneers at the grin plastered on his face. Instead of replying, Raiden lazily lifts up his sword still in his grasp and waves it in an ambiguous gesture. From its point to its guard, the sword is caked in a viscous mixture of blood and dust. When he haphazardly lets it drop to the floor, it makes a dull thud, the blood and dirt making a small plume underneath.
The door behind him closes when Raiden makes his way to the couch. He settles down on the further end of it, one hand coming up to swipe his hair back from his face. Sam now notices the deep gash on the top left on his head, the red staining his hair a brownish pink. The now static flow had once chosen to run down the side of his face, stopping above his jawline. It's not the only component of disarray on Raiden- his black eyeliner smudged. On one eye it's still fairly composed, only smeared slightly on the hood of his eye. The side near the blood however, the black streaks near down to his cheek.
“Gotta ask, blondie, why do you wear makeup? Not judging, of course, just curious.”
Raiden finishes his waterline and takes his time to put the cap back on the pencil. He doesn't even look at Sam as he drawls out his answer.
“Always have. I just want to.” He pauses, purses his lips momentarily. “I used to do mascara when I was younger, but that shit is a bitch to clean off. Eyeliner is easier but, fuck, does it smear.”
Clearly. He looks like shit, really. Dismantled and defeated. Yet Raiden still stares straight ahead, and when he brings his hands down to rest upon his knees, his back stiffens up in proper posture. Despite - allegedly, by Samuels own words - that Raiden lost the fight, he still keeps his shoulders square, his chin high and mouth flattened into a line.
Admirable. A twinge adorable. And a little of something else-
Sam snaps out of his thoughts when he feels his dick twitch. He's been hard since god knows when, the adrenaline of the fight pumping blood through his entire system on max, groin included. It's not uncommon, no, but when the rival is Pretty Boy over here, it definitely adds more excitement than it should. Even with all the cuts on his body, the bruises forced and pounded onto him, his system still finds the smallest opportunities to find pleasure within it all. Not implying the violence gets him off. The show is more thrilling than the participation. The way Raiden moves on the battlefield is so memorizing, so captivating that Sam swears his breath is nearly stolen away. But it all ends when he gets a sharp kick to the nose.
Ah, that reminds him. Sam wipes the back of his hand underneath his nose, wincing at the tender soreness. As expected, his hand comes back stained red. Looks as though a majority has already hardened into flakes.
When the silence still rings out, Sam tries again. “Aw, come on. I didn't beat you into the ground that hard, did I?”
He hears Raiden huff, feels the couch shift as he tirelessly fidgets.
“No.”
Sam turns himself in to see Raiden face to face, expecting to engage in more teasing conversation but cuts himself short. Raiden stares back at him, piercing blue eyes, going straight through him. But it's not the common death glare Raiden oh so happily gives out freely. No, it's a look he's seen before. Where the gaze is stunning but relaxed, needy, desperate…
Their relationship has taken, well, needless to say, an interesting turn. Once they paired up about a year back, work partners was all it was. Then as months went by they were more involved with each other's personal lives, hanging out more, sparring only with each other. Then about six months back it changed a bit drastically. Its no secret, they’ve fucked. Occasionally. It's still secret to everyone else, but between them, there wasn't beating around the bush, at least now.
“Wanna fuck?”
Raiden was first to ask. Looking back, maybe he would’ve never asked if four drinks weren't already in his system. And perhaps Sam would’ve never agreed if he wasn't trying to out-drink him. Sam surprisingly remembers some very fond memories from that evening. Him and Raiden throwing each other on the bed, the comforter surrounding them as their lips locked in a heated, open-mouthed kiss. Minutes of endless groping, or perhaps hours, maybe even days. There was barely any preparation, if there was any. Before he knew it Raiden was helping him push his cock in with the help of his hand, his legs locking around his hips in a tight snare.
“Please. Please fuck me harder,” he remembers Raiden pleading to him. His voice barely but a whisper, mumbled into Sam's mouth, a message just loud enough for him and only him. Sam swears to himself he’ll never forget the way Raiden looked at him that night. Disbelief on his face as he gets pounded within an inch of his life, his eyes locking onto his. Blue, wet and dilated with wonder, like Sam was something he's never witnessed before. Raiden's hands shakily made their way up to either side of Sam's face, rubbing the stubble tenderly as the rest.
“Sam-”
There's been plenty of other times since then. Usually on the ‘quicker’ ends, he recalls one time pitifully showing up at Raidens door one early morning. An hour prior he woke up drenched in sweat, the ghost sensations of Raidens soft lips tight around his dick. When he opened up the door he looked far from interested, hair still messy with a displeased, bitter expression. However, with the promise of a returned favor, Raiden obliged.
Sam observed the ceiling, watching its hue turn dark blue to gold as Raiden worked on him. First it was sweet, sweet torture, with Raiden giving him a slow, luxurious handjob as his mouth sucked lightly on the head, lapping at it with his tongue, leaving him sensitive and aching for more contact. It wasn't long till he got his wish, nearing the end he had a wonderful view of Raiden bobbing his head up and down as he sucked him off, trying to kiss the fist wrapped around the base of his dick as Raidens right hand, out of sight but pictured so clearly in Sam's mind, slipping in between his own legs, rubbing himself, chasing his own orgasm.
Good memories. Even more soon to come.
Raiden studies Sam, eyes dragging across his body, picking him apart like prey, taking in every little detail. His suit fits him just as well. Those broad, pact muscles lie just beneath the fabric, skin tight. Sam's hands are bloodied, his knuckles bruised- and his face. Oh, how the definition of ‘ rough ’ looks so good on him. Blood stains his upper lip from the nosebleed. His hair is tied back but multiple strands fray loose, the shorter ones cling to his face from the sweat. The look in his eyes becomes darker.
In an instant they crash into one another. Their lips lock together as they desperately try to grab hold on one another. Sam presses impossibly deeper, both hands coming up to Raidens face, one curving to the back of his neck as he leans over Raiden. He falls back onto the couch with no resistance, letting Sam settle his weight on his frame. Gently, Raiden scratches his nails down Sam's back, all the way down to the tailbone, to curve around to go over the ribs. He shudders, hips grinding down onto his partners.
The need for air comes eventually. With a small gasp they part, but the separation doesn't stay long. Sam crushes his lips against Raidens once more, licking gently, begging for entrance. Raiden makes a sweet, small noise in the back of his throat once Sam's tongue finds his, once his taste fills his mouth. Admittedly, water right about now would’ve been better, but as the saliva thickens as their tongues curl and slide warmly over one another, as the blood from the cut on Raidens lip and the blood from Sams nose mixes in, the taste sickly sweet and metallic in his mouth, down his throat… Making his insides twist into a taught coil of filthy pleasure…
Water can wait.
Raiden has to rip himself away, head turning to the side as he actually regains his breath this time. His eyes close as he pants softly, a whimper forming low in his throat as Sam slowly still grinds their hips together. Fuck, thats what he needs right now. He would gladly, without hesitation, sacrifice a finger, no- everything possible - for Sam to be buried deep inside him right now. To feel that eye-rolling feeling of a thick cock dragging against his insides, rub roughly on all the aching spots in him.
He puts a palm to Sam's sternum and pushes back roughly. Raiden quickly gets up and off the couch, his hands quickly going to the belt around his waist. Sam rests himself back on the couch, arms stretching across the back, legs spread comfortably wide as he watches Raiden. He smirks at the sight, it's adorable how Raidens is so desperate that taking off his belt becomes more of a chore than it should be. His hands are shaking with anticipation, fingers trying - and failing - to slip his fingers underneath the latch. After a handful of more desperate attempts Raiden hooks his thumbs underneath his leggings and underwear and shoves them both down.
Sam quickly re-adjusts the tie twisted in his hair, pulling the loose ends back off his neck. The cooling air in here already cooled him off entirely, but he knows from experience he'll be overheating again soon enough. He then follows Raidens footsteps, unbuckling his own belt and pulling down his fly. Sam has just enough time to pull himself out, give his dick a few firm strokes before Raidens back on him, straddling him. Seems like preparation is out of the question today; Raiden moves Sam's hand away and grabs his dick, inching his hips forward and aligns himself.
He rubs the head of his cock against his wet slit, hips twitching as it pushes against his clit. After a few more moments of teasing both of them, Raiden sinks down without pause until their hips meet. A shiver rattles through Raidens frame, his insides stretching with the best burn, his hunger eases. Deepens. They haven't even started and the pleasure is already making his head swim, his eyelids going heavy. Raiden settles in a little closer to Sam, his arms crossing behind Sam's head on the back of the couch. He rests his head there, his head leaning against his partners. Eyes sliding shut, Raiden grinds his hips- short, aborted movements that make the hard cock inside him move against his sweet spot in the most delicious friction possible.
A deep, thunderous groan rumbles in Sams throat as Raiden fucks himself on his cock. It's been awhile - too long - since the last time he's had this. To feel that tight, soft and sodden heat massaging his dick. The rough spar earlier was all worth it now, especially to know that despite Raiden getting the shit beat out of him, to have his own nose possibly cracked, to be covered in bruises that wont disappear, Raiden still wants a desperate, hard fuck.
Truth be told, Sam wouldn't have ever thought this would be such a hot turn on. Raiden is always attractive. Especially when he just finished drying off from a shower, hair fluffy and messy apart from the tips that still slightly curl from being damp. The way his eyes seem a lot brighter, how his pale skin is soft, warmer from the water. The overall good feeling of cleanliness. But now, it's the opposite. Raiden's hair curls from the sweat covering his body, its color a darker shade of blonde white from the desert dust. The front of his hairline stained from the blood from his forehead laceration. Half his face holds a smear of gray from the makeup and red while the other half sports a prominent bruise on his cheek bone. Sam noted as Raiden undid his belt that his right index fingernail is cracked to the cubicle, dark red, near black blood drying on the nail.
Perhaps it's the thought of seeing Raiden toughen his way through this. His mind makes the connections - you fought rough, you’re still standing, and I can see the evidence. You're strong, you can fight, and that's hot. Now fuck me.
Raiden is beginning to put a little more effort into it now, actually raising his hips just to push himself back down just as fast. Sam lets out a tremor of a sigh and lets his eyes slip closed for a beat. Raiden isn't usually the one to do all the heavy lifting, in sex per se. Oh, but the one other time he has, Sam woke up the next morning with his hips and thighs bruised, pleasantly sore. It was a situation almost like this one, an adrenaline rush high mixed with sky rocketing testosterone.
“Shut the fuck up,” Raiden spit through clenched teeth. One second they're face to face in the training room, and in the next Sam suddenly feels himself thrown down onto the floor mat below. When he looks back up, Raidens on him, sitting astride on his lap. Sam's heart is beating in his throat, for in that instance he thinks he's about to be ripped to shreds, stabbed - again. Instead he gets scratched pelvic skin, bruises so deep the bone is tender. Strong, fine cut metal thighs grinding against Sams, Raiden gasping and choking on his own moans as he slams his hips down with such painful intensity Sam almost debates on stopping him.
Always a treat, when he takes control.
But now he's more than grateful that Raiden isn't so intense. His pace is still rough, desperate to shove every inch back in where it belongs. He silently thanks the odds that Raiden went with his skin today, for if he were to try and seduce him with his metal on, Sam would've had to put his foot down, even if he was still rock hard. It would've been a shameful loss. But Sam wants to keep all his bones in check for at least another day.
When Sam opens his eyes once more, the room around them is now darker, hues of gray, black and blue now tinted with orange from the setting sun outside. He forgot how easy it is to lose track of time like this. It could've been hours that Raidens been riding him, building that slow, torturous, staticky rise of pleasure that runs thick and hot in their veins. Could've been minutes, both so horny that even after seven minutes they're close to the edge.
Sam takes an uneven exhale as he treads his hands down Raiden's spine, lovingly admiring the shifting muscles and skin beneath the fabric. He hears Raiden make a somewhat disgruntled noise as his hands come to rest on his rear, squeezing momentarily. Pace disrupted, Raiden slows his hips, sinking down low as he regains his breath.
Its too fucking hot in here.
Raiden sits back up on Sam's lap and makes quick work of discarding his top. It comes off like peeling off a sticker, its insides clinging to damp skin. It gets tossed carelessly in the heap of armor on the floor. The sight of Raiden stripping down on his lap makes Sam's blood give a hard pulse. Shimmering wet, pale skin dotted with red marks and bruises. The way his fake skin stretches perfectly over fiber-esque muscles packed underneath, how his metal ribs cast hollow shadows over his abdomen.
Some moments like this, Sam wonders if this could all become something more. Something deeper than the title of Fuck Buddies, Friends with Benefits. The thought of waking up to Raiden beside him in early mornings, to keep him as his and only his own - it sends a pleasant warmth within him. But the idea of keeping things the way they are now, without all the romantic mush and possibilities of losing it all just because of heartbreak, is far too compelling. Sam leans forward, pressing his lips on Raidens sternum in a lingering kiss. He hears Raiden huff, his hips still twitching occasionally as he savors the feeling of being stretched open.
Sam skims his lips upwards, a small smile temporarily settling on them as he feels Raiden tremble. His mouth blindly feels around Raidens chest, and within just a moment he closes his lips around one of Raidens nipples, humming contently, eyes sliding shut as he begins to lightly suck. He knows from experience that Raiden would've never admitted that his chest is a sensitive sweet spot. How small pinches and twirls of the tongue reduce him to a hot mess.
His hands, still groping Raiden's ass, give a firmer squeeze. As much as he loves seeing Raiden grind down on his dick, taking his own time to get himself off, Sams becoming impatient. He lifts his hands in an upward motion underneath Raidens rear, urging him to get back to work. Raiden hesitantly obliges, situating his hands on Sam's shoulders as he lifts his hips up in one long, dragging motion. Sam growls out a moan deep in his throat, his tongue roughly flicking around the sensitive nub.
Raidens starting to be louder now, his once reserved sighs now becoming pained moans on each exhale forced out of him. Hes fucking himself harder on Sams lap, shoving his hips down with near violent determination, desperate to feel Sams cock hit the deepest parts of him. He arches his spine forward slightly, giving Sam enough room to continue playing with his chest as he looks down upon him. Sam with his eyes closed, lost in pleasure, his face shining with a thin layer of sweat, brows furrowed as he dedicates his focus on pleasuring Raiden with his tongue.
A broken sigh trembles out from Raidens lips. He gathers what strength he has left after being defeated, after being fucked so good - and murmurs a plea, its tone quiet amidst moaning and the sound of desperate, rough, sex.
“Touch me,”
He bites his lip to avoid letting a yelp slip out as Sam moves one his hands to land on his hip bone, stretching his thumb over to reach for his clit. It's tricky to keep his thumb on target, with Raiden moving his hips- but even the littlest contact makes a tingle shoot through Raidens spine, his toes curl. The corner of his lips tug into a smile, drunk off pleasure spreading through his entire body. Raiden expected this to last a little longer, perhaps say ‘fuck it’ to the couch and relocate to one of the bedrooms. Oh, Sam would push him down into the bed, flip him over and pound him so hard Raiden would forget to breathe at moments, his cries muffled by ruffled blankets. There would be a hand in his hair, pulling at just the right angle to make him keen, make him arch his back and his thighs tremble.
Oh, God, it aches in the best way possible. Raiden starts to feel his eyes water, his skin sting with the burn of overexertion. He curses through clenched teeth, and with his nails digging into Sams shoulders and with a gasp, he cums. It's unexpected and all too sudden, stealing the breath straight out of Raidens lungs. Sam makes a startled noise and quickly detaches his mouth from his chest, moaning at the sensation of wet, tight, warmth throbbing around his dick.
“Shit,” Sam curses under his breath, watching Raidens hips twitch as he orgasms. “You're gonna kill me like this one day.” Sam smiles but quickly cuts it off as his lower abdomen starts to feel tighter. He leans back into the cushions behind him once more, resting his head back. Raiden leans back down with him, arms wrapping around him as he buries his face in the crook of Sam's neck. He drags his tongue on the light stubble there, leaving a hot, wet trail. Raiden finds a spot underneath his jaw, nearing the side of his throat and sucks, insistent on leaving yet another bruise on his body. He grunts at the feeling of Sam bucking his hips up into him, his own trying to push off from the constant onslaught, his insides overused and sensitive. But Raiden persists, and with a sly, innocent wickedness he moves his mouth to Sam's ear, his lips just shy of contact.
“ Harder. C’mon, fuck me like you mean it- ”
Sam growls, thrusting deeper, snapping his hips up harder. The forced out moans that leave Raiden are utterly delighted, his teeth scoring his lip deeper, opening up a cut.
“Yes, yeah- don't stop-”
But Raiden knows Sam can't resist the begging. Can't handle the filthy whispers Raiden has quickly perfected in his practiced angelic soft voice. An allurement of submissive pleas. But Raiden knows exactly what he's doing.
It's all that it takes. Sam forces Raiden down one final time, sealing their hips together as he cums deep inside him. Another flare of heat coats Raidens skin at the feeling of Sam's dick heavily twitching inside him, filling him with wet warmness that nearly makes his eyes roll. He sinks down low on Sam's cock, wanting it impossibly deeper. Raiden shifts his hips, rides Sam a little while longer till he and Sam both are so over sensitive that moving in the slightest makes them both whimper in discomfort. Raiden leaves his head in the crook, his body so sore and overworked that everything inside and out feels numb through the pain, apart from the warm tingling in between his legs. He could pass out right here, right now.
The moment is short lived, however. Sam nudges him off with a firm hand on his stomach, and with a wet sound and a mutual mumble of irritation, they part. Raiden simply lands on his side on the other end of the couch, splaying himself without a care. Sam remains sitting in his spot, tucking himself away with sex hazed movements. Next he dips his fingers under the edge of his top, removing it over the top of his head in one practiced motion. Thank God the A/C is working. It cools him down almost in an instant, the layer of sweat covering him helping the cool down. Oh, and a nice cold shower-
“Raiden,” Sam asks, opening his eyes only to meet the ceiling. “The water still works here, right?”
It's silent for a moment.
“I… I don't recall.”
Figures.