(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]

"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.

[aut_nihil]

A soft grunt of understanding. Yeah. He gets that. He doesn't want to see them either.

And it feels better this way, being on top of Carver. More like he's positioned to take an attack if they turn violent.

Yeah the thought of protecting Carver...that helps. Relaxes him, just a little, just enough for his cock to get harder.

"You know how to take this," he says. Whatever it takes.

[fortitudosalutis]

Okay, Carver thinks, and he can breathe a little easier when Pope doesn't snarl at him or order him to be quiet. To take it like a test. He can feel Pope's cock swell, growing in his hand.

There's a twinge of a thrill in that, even under the circumstances.

Carver opens his eyes, meeting Pope's gaze briefly. "Yeah," he murmurs. He wonders if Pope means he knows how to take torture, or that he knows how to be fucked. Both are true. "Go slow. And just. Press."

He'll try and think of Riley, Carver decides. Of someone who cares about him, who'd want him if they weren't being forced.

[aut_nihil]

I'm sorry, he wants to say but doesn't.

Go slow. He'll go as slow as their audience will allow.

He thinks of the bartender.

He presses against Carver, breathes out, because it does feel good, God help him.

[fortitudosalutis]

It's just a moment, Carver tells himself, breathing slow. Trying not to flinch because it hurts, it hurts to be touched at all right now, but Pope's breath is hot against his neck and he just closes his eyes. He makes a small sound before he can bite it back, wrapping his arm around Pope. Clinging to him, trying to disappear.

[aut_nihil]

Carver makes a sound. Pope oversaw so much of Carver's training and the man took it all like a man, like a hero, never whimpering until now. It makes Pope stop, makes him go even slower, which he realizes probably makes it worse for Carver psychologically.

[fortitudosalutis]

He swallows hard, throat working. Holding on so tight to Pope, trying to disappear inside of him. It's fine, he tells himself, it's fine, it's just a moment. The mechanics are like sex and it's better that it hurts, really. Pain is a teacher.

It's fine.

He almost tells Pope that, tries to tap it out in morse, but then Pope slows, shifting the angle maybe without realizing, and Carver's breath catches. He meant to hold still but he squirms under him, biting back noise because there's a moment where it feels good. Or it could, maybe.

[aut_nihil]

That sound was different.

Part of him wants to tell Carver to stay silent; he's trying to imagine the bartender and hearing a man groaning kills the illusion. he also doesn't want to invite the audience any closer than they are.

But he needs to know if he's hurting Carver and the only way to do that is through sound right now. So he tries again, pulls back and pushes in just the way he did before.

[fortitudosalutis]

Oh, fuck. Carver shivers under Pope, trying so hard to hold still, to be quiet. Sometimes people cry or flail during the tests but it's better to take them stoically, to endure without making a fuss.

None of the tests ever felt good, though. Not for a second except maybe the relief when they were over, and Pope says they've done a good job.

Carver holds tight to Pope, reaching for armor, stability, something. But being pressed this close together means that there's no way Pope doesn't hear the way his breathing changes, the way Carver tries so hard to bite back a whine when the angle shifts to something better, easier. When the pleasure curls through him and makes him twitch under the commander. When he starts getting hard, just a little.

[aut_nihil]

He doesn't want this to hurt. He doesn't want to injure Carver. He also, he realizes slowly, doesn't want Carver to just lie there and take it. Doesn't want Carver to not feel good, too.

Carver's breathing turns heavier against his ear and God, that's erotic, he can't help responding to it, moving his hips steadily back and forth.

"Like that," he whispers. It's okay if this doesn't hurt, this time.

[fortitudosalutis]

It's easier with a rhythm. With that drag, and the pressure, and Pope's weight over him. Carver shudders, unmoored, but he rocks back into it. Trying to chase the sensation. Like that, Pope tells him, so soft the enemy won't hear, and the praise makes him groan. Makes him arch into it, some of the sick tension bleeding away.

He spreads his legs more, making a small sound as Pope fucks him. Doesn't hurt him. Keeps him safe.

[aut_nihil]

Carver is so tight around him and now they're moving together, and he chokes out a moan because it's good, it feels so good and it's been a good long while since he got laid.

He forgets for a moment they're being watched. Ignores the fact they're in a hotel room and they're hostages, and just exists in what he's doing, in the heat of Carver around him, and he fucks him faster.

[fortitudosalutis]

It's different this time. Pope fucked him almost machinelike the last time, a test of endurance after Carver was almost numb to it and barely reacted, just bit his hands so he wouldn't cry and took it. Here, he gasps and jerks under Pope, making cut off sounds as he's fucked, as he moves his hips to match the rhythm and feel something - anything - other than wrenched and heartsick.

Then Pope goes faster, though still so controlled, and Carver bites at his shoulder to muffle the noise he would have made. Shuddering.