(no subject)

[aut_nihil]

Pope doesn't go on as many missions as he once did. But he sees trouble brewing in the future, in the solo orders Carver was given, and he can't stomach staying behind when Carver might face the worst alone.

So he defies his own orders and he goes with Carver.

And things go sideways. They're outnumbered despite his best efforts and his warnings, and they're gathered up, hoods on their heads, arms tied behind their backs.

Carver's strong though. They're going to make it through this. He's going to get them through this.

Comments

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver nods his head against Pope, taking a shaky breath. He's hurt bad enough he won't be much use in a fight, not like this, not without time to heal and come back to himself. But if they were trying to break the two of them apart or get intel, the enemy failed. That's what matters, right?

"We're gonna survive," he agrees softly. "I'm with you, sir. I would've followed you back to the Valley."

[aut_nihil]

Back to the Valley.

Back to the worst moments of their lives.

He hears that and it sticks in his chest. It's a loyalty he sometimes doubts he's fully earned.

"I'll get you out," he promises. "To the bar we're going to visit. To safety."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver sighs, settling a little. Maybe he could sleep. Just for a little bit. "I'll owe you a drink," he murmurs. "Vodka, not beer."

They'll get out. They'll survive. The commander said it, so it must be true.

[aut_nihil]

"Top shelf," he tells him gruffly, to keep Carver going. He'd drink swill if it meant being free. "Best stuff you can afford."

He's listening for people coming in the hallway.

[fortitudosalutis]

"Top self on an E-4 salary," Carver allows, because he's not quite broke but his bills eat up his paycheck more often than they don't, even with combat pay. He's not sure how his friends with spouses or kids do it.

He breathes out slow. Better to think about top shelf vodka than this place. He keeps his eyes closed and he almost sleep for a while.

Almost.

There are footsteps coming down the hall, though. And Carver just breathes out slow again. "Someone's coming," he murmurs.

[aut_nihil]

Someone's coming.

He stays calm, stroking Carver's hair. "Fine. Top shelf and I'll buy," he grunts. And that might be the last casual thing he ever gets to say to Carver but at least it's a promise of better things.

[fortitudosalutis]

"You're gonna spoil me, sir," Carver murmurs, squeezing Pope's knee. He doesn't flinch when the door clicks open. Just slows his breathing, readying himself.

[aut_nihil]

"Fortitudo Salutis," he murmurs. Go away if you have to, he wills Carver. Do what it takes to survive because they're getting the fuck out of here.

He looks up at the intruders. "Bout damn time."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver keeps his breathing steady, but he doesn't move. Not even when the leader hums and sits on the edge of the bed, just out of kicking range. He has to know neither of them are armed.

"Kinda thought you'd skip out," the leader says after a while. "Ditch this one. No offense, I just don't think he's moving too fast right now."

Carver doesn't respond. Just keeps his breathing steady, and slow.

"We went a little rough on your boy," the leader allows. "I'll admit that. So, maybe we slow it down this time. That sound good to you, CO?"

[aut_nihil]

"You're taking it easy on me," Pope drawls. "I have to wonder why. You think I'll talk if you're sweet to me?"

[fortitudosalutis]

"Always worth a shot," the leader replies flippantly, though Carver thinks there might be an edge there. Like maybe that was the idea, but it isn't working so well. Try to divide them but they won't turn on each other. Carver holds onto Pope's knee and he's hurt but he won't flinch from the commander. Won't abandon him.

Pope won't abandon him, either. He promised.

Then the leader's hand settles on Carver's back and he goes very still. For a moment, he can barely breathe.

"Maybe we will be sweet to you today. Treat you right." The leader chuckles softly, trailing his fingers up Carver's spine. And Carver holds himself as still as he possibly can. Trying so hard not to breathe, not to exist. "Shhh, just be still. Good boy. Just be still. Why don't you get up there and make your boss feel good, hmm?"

[aut_nihil]

"Why don't you crawl over here and show him how it's done?" Pope snaps, his fingers gone still in Carver's hair.

[fortitudosalutis]

"This doesn't have to be a fight," the leader replies mildly.

He has blue eyes, Carver remembers. They wore masks. They don't want to kill us yet. Not yet. But this man's hand is on his back now, tracing up the line of his spine and back down again and he shivers before he can think to hide it, fighting back revulsion.

"Besides, I think your boy here's a fast learner." There's a low chuckle. "Don't make me get creative, CO, or I really will slut him out. Make a little extra money on him."

It's a line. They won't risk it, Carver knows, it's just something to make them tense up and doubt each other. But he feels sick at the thought of it. Unable to move, afraid that the moment he tries to fight he's going to lose and Pope will see it.

[aut_nihil]

"Pope," he says, smirks. His name is fucking Pope. "You want me to fuck him for you?"

Better him than them.

[fortitudosalutis]

"Pope," the leader muses, but something in Carver bares its teeth in defiance. Because they're deferring to Pope now, even in this small way. They're giving him power and they don't even realize.

"Well, I was just gonna have him get you off," the leader drawls, resting his palm flat against Carver's back. "But then you had to get all ambitious on us."

He taps his fingers against Carver's spine, tsking. "Get up there. Show your commander some appreciation."

[aut_nihil]

Pope watches and doesn't flinch. Fine. This is just happening. This is how things are going to go, but it won't break them.

And he made them use his name. That's a small victory, the first of many to come.

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver lifts his head slowly. Trying to think, to plan something. What would cost them the least?

"Go on," the leader murmurs, his hand still on Carver's back. "I know we were rough on you, kid, but you took it like a champ. Now go show your boss how thankful you are for him, hmm?"

Carver's jaw works. He doesn't look at the other man. But he sits up slowly, gingerly, and meets Pope's eyes. There's really no point in stalling, is there? He takes a slow breath, and then he reaches for Pope's belt.

[aut_nihil]

It's worse without pain. He knows that. But he can't risk injuring Carver, so where does that leave them?

He controls his breathing. Thinks of other places, other people. Thinks of a pretty bartender he'd flirted with a few months ago, the last time he'd thought of being with a woman at all. He wishes now he'd followed up on that. Taken her home, enjoyed her, instead of just letting it be a moment of flirtation after a long day.

Just go away in your head, he wills Carver.

[fortitudosalutis]

Neither of them want this. Carver keeps his breathing as steady as he can, focusing on getting Pope's belt open. Don't stall, he tells himself, and so he just breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth and works his hand in there. Palming his commanding officer over his underwear in some weird pantomime of sex.

He bows his head. Tries not to look at Pope while he's doing it.

[aut_nihil]

He tries to just focus on the feel of Carver's hand. It feels good, but he's too aware of the eyes on them, of the smirks. He's too aware of who this is and he can't get hard when he's aware of all that.

So he rolls them, bracing himself over Carver, face down close against Carver's neck. And he just breathes and it's easier that way to ignore, to pretend.

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver's breath hitches as his back hits the mattress. For a moment he's frozen, one hand flying to Pope's arm. Just holding onto him, uncertain. He can feel Pope's breath against his neck and that -

That's a little easier, he thinks. Because Pope's shielding him, even if that wasn't the intention. Carver can't see the others watching them like this.

He closes his eyes, biting his lip a little, and tilts his head back as he works his hand down to take Pope's cock in hand. Try to get him hard.

[aut_nihil]

He has to do this. This has to work, and he's furious at his body for not responding like he needs it to. He can't fail Carver.

He rocks his hips into Carver's hand and the movement helps, makes him feel marginally more in control. There- the slightest twitch of his cock.

"You want a real show," he growls at the men, "You'll get me some soap."

[fortitudosalutis]

"Ambitious," someone drawls. Someone else laughs and Carver just keeps his eyes closed. He's given handjobs before and he likes to think he's good at them, but he's tense and uneasy now, eyes closed tight, and Pope's not getting hard. Not really.

Someone sets a jar down on the nightstand. It must be lube. They planned this shit. "We can do a little better than that," the leader murmurs. "Be sweet to your boy, hmm? Or do we need to break him in a little first? Maybe get the both of you going? Just say the word."

[aut_nihil]

Fucking Carver was the first anal sex he's ever had but he already knows he's not doing that dry again, not if there's any other way. For Carver's sake as well as his own--he doesn't think he could keep it up again with how rough it was.

He grabs the lube before they can think better of it. "Get your pants down," he murmurs to Carver. He needs to feel skin on skin, maybe that will help.

[fortitudosalutis]

Oh, fuck. Carver shivers, eyes closed tight, but he does what he's told. Works his belt open and lifts his hips to work his pants down before he can think better of it, think about it at all. "I don't want to see them," he murmurs, not quite pleading, but very quiet. He prays the others don't hear. He prays that Pope understands what he's asking, that it's easier when Pope's on top of him like this. Blocking the enemy from sight.