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Tendrils of smoke curled upward in an ethereal dance in the early light of the dawn, the fingers of orange and red that seemed to burst forth from the horizon chasing away the dark clouds of night. John, AKA Big Boss, lay propped up in his bed; the cherry of his cigar glowing to match the rising of the sun as he took another drag - watching the new day begin to peek out from behind the veil of night through the grimy windows of Mother Base.
He was naked as could be, uncaring – since the only other person in the room with him was quite the same, passed out on the sheets beside him. John rarely indulged himself in such activities as lounging about, but last night had awoken a mood in the stoic solider to enjoy the finer moments. It was not often that he got to spend time - let alone intimate activities – with the man who currently shared his space; and early on he learned to cherish those few and far between slivers of time.
A heavy exhale clouded the glowing lights of the twilight in a sheet of smoke that vanished as quickly as it formed, one solitary blue eye watching the act almost lazily. His unguarded actions and relaxed nature were beginning to turn some wheels in his mind, and before he knew it, John was starting to ponder.
John wasn’t the type to think too much on things, especially not this early in the morning. He lived on basic reactions, the quick reflexes and spur of the moment decisions that were required of him on the battlefield. But…his single eye wandered down to glance at the prone figure that was sprawled out beside him. Thick curls of smoke obscured his vision for a moment as he exhaled softly, following the lines of lean muscle and the sharp curve of a hip.
Ocelot made him think.
It wasn’t a bad thing; it was just something that John had never gotten used to - just like he had never gotten used to the heavy warmth that spread deep in his chest when he would first spy the flash of grey and red upon his return from missions. John never thought these things to be unpleasant; just different; much like the object of his thoughts was. The man was peculiar; with a code name that fit the personality.
Letting out a low chuckle and a cloud of smoke at the realization, John kept his eye trained on the still form beside him, making sure that his noise had not disturbed the sleeping man. The steady rise and fall of the sharp planes of Ocelot’s shoulder blades along with the soft sighs of breath in the otherwise silent room reassured John that he had not awoken his partner.
Good.
Turning his gaze back to the rising golds and reds on the horizon, John took another hit from his stogie; rolling the smoke around his tongue before letting it escape out into the grey light of the morning. Ocelot certainly exhibited the cat-like tendencies – showing up when least expected or needed, knowing more than enough information about things he wasn’t supposed to, sharp eyes that seemed to see into your very soul if you were at the end of his weighted gaze, and the tendency to choose one person to exhibit his affection onto.
And that person happened to be John.
The thought brought that sticky warmth to his chest once again, the cloying heat spreading faster through his lungs than the smoke could. It was an interesting feeling, one that John would find himself contemplating more often than not when awaiting instructions on a mission; wanting to hear that deep southern drawl crackle through the radio. It was a feeling that he didn’t mind, and on more than one occasion had found that it oddly kept him warm in moments of need; such as a cold downpour of rain in the field, or under the soft cover of snow while he waited to make his move.
It wasn’t bad, it was just…different. He would almost equate it to a something he barely remembered experiencing on Christmas mornings, or whenever she would praise him for doing a job well done.
Oddly, John found himself liking that.
And that fact that Ocelot was the one to bring that feeling to him.
With a soft, pleasing hum, John’s lips quirked up at the corner around the thick butt of the stogie as he reached forward and spread a large, callused hand across the sharp hip of his lover. Deep purple and red bruises were scattered across the boney flesh; markers nearly matching up perfectly to his hand size and width.
Adamska gasped below him; a long, drawn out sound between a moan and a meow scraping up from the depths of his raw voice, barely muffled by the pillow he had squashed his face into. John growled in response, feeling the tightening of the muscles around his cock as he continued to pound ruthlessly into that one spot that made Adam see stars. His hands tightened around those thin hips, fingers digging into the little flesh provided as his thrusts picked up in speed and brutality.
John’s smiled widened as the memory flashed through his brain, the warmth that had curled deep in his chest spiking in pride and possession as he viewed his work that was created in the throes of passion. Large fingers brushed against the cool skin lovingly, tracing the lines of Ocelot’s hips and the marks that would certainly be there for several weeks.
Stirring slightly against the soft touches that John indulged in, Ocelot cracked his eyes open to the rising light of the dawn; letting out a soft sigh and stretching much like his namesake. “Morning.” He rumbled, his voice thick with sleep and tinted with his native accent.
“Good morning.” John replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He stared down at Adam, his right hand still absentmindedly petting the bruises on Adam’s hips.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking.”
With a quiet huff of a laugh, Ocelot rolled over from his prone position to face John, grey eyes slightly unfocused in the pink shade of the room. “You’re dangerous when you think.”
Chuckling, John gave a light slap to the purple and red bruises that had bloomed across the sharply carved hips of the blonde; his blue eye flicking upward to scan Ocelot’s face before once again moving back down to assess his handiwork from the night before.
Hissing at the sting, Ocelot arched one fine eyebrow at John’s actions, settling to move his hips just out of reach, the bed creaking at the movement. “They’re not going to go away anytime soon, don’t worry about that.”
“I’m not.”
Silence stretched on for a few beats between the two men, their gazes trained on different aspects of one another. One, calculating and reading the subtle body hints; and the other, who was lost in his own thoughts as he stared at the bruises he had made.
“John.”
Blue briefly wavered from its fixated gaze for a moment.
“John.” Ocelot tried again, shifting against the sheets as he rose to his elbows. The movement seemed to break John of whatever thoughts he had been lost in, his solitary eye finally rising up to meet the stormy grey that quietly gazed back at him. “Penny for those thoughts?” He asked, his tone reflecting a softness and adoration that was only reserved for moments that were few and far between the two of them.
John hummed, one hand reaching up to pluck the stogie from his lips as his gaze turned back to the colors of the dawn; the sun finally starting to make its appearance from behind the horizon. “Just thinking on feelings.”
Ocelot’s eyes widened as both eyebrows rose upward in surprise. “Feelings? Why, John, I wouldn’t have pegged you for that sort of philosophical musing this early.”
A deep, rumbling chuckle filled the small, intimate space as John reached over and slung an arm around the boney shoulders of his friend, lover, and confidante; pulling the lithe man closer to his chest. “I’m allowed to think once in a while.”
Letting out a snort of amusement at John’s words, Ocelot let himself be pulled into the larger man; scooting closer and letting himself be wrapped up in John’s warmth. “Care to indulge me?” he mused, feeling the scratch of John’s beard as the older man rested his chin against the fine, grey hairs of the top of Ocelot’s head. Closing his eyes against the rising light of the day, Ocelot let himself be in the moment, enjoying the rare quiet of peace and relaxation as he waited to see if John would answer him.
The moment stretched on, the two men enjoying each other’s company as the light continued to steadily strengthen – each lost in their own thoughts.
Ocelot found himself beginning to once again slip into the soft embrace of sleep, his mind growing fuzzy with the steady rise and fall of the warm, broad chest he was curled up against. Just as he was about to slip under; the rumbling of John’s soft, deep voice crawled up from beneath him, the words whispered gently into his hair.
“I was thinking on what you make me feel, Adam.”