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Title: The Long Haul - Shirts vs. Skins
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, D-Tech/Army of Two - Steele/Hoot/Sanderson
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Graphic threesome of the homosexual persuasion.
Disclaimer: None of these men are really real, and none of it takes place during the timeframe of Black Hawk Down, so obviously this is just a harmless bit of fantasy from which I gain no profit but the knowledge that one or two fangirls might get a little wet, and that's payment enough for me.
Note: Takes place right after Repercussions.
Summary: Steele, unable to leave things where they stand, has returned to the D-Tech house, where he has found Sanderson and Hoot mostly naked in the bedroom. He takes advantage of the situation.
Shirts vs. Skins
Mike Steele did not mind being outnumbered. Or outsized. But he did mind being outdone. Pinned to the bed by two Deltas. He let them believe he was not resisting. He let them believe that the whole shirts vs. skins thing was a joke. And then, when Sanderson and Hoot were least expecting it…
Hoot was shocked for almost a full second when Steele's arm came up and pushed him over the edge of the mattress. Damn, Steele was fast. And strong. But really, it was the element of surprise that had given him the advantage. It wasn't like Hoot was going to let Steele win or anything…
Sanderson smiled. He wasn't surprised. He could tell Steele hadn't really been relaxing under their hands. That vein in his neck was still standing out. When Steel really submitted, that vein disappeared. That was his tell. Still, surprise or no surprise, Sanderson was not fully prepared for what came next…
Steele reared up and threw both skins off him. They might be in supreme physical condition, but they were ex Deltas now. Steele was wearing the uniform of the Army of the United States of America, and he would not be subdued by a couple of private security operators.
Hoot went over the edge. Sanderson grabbed the headboard and held on tight. Sanderson had always dealt with physical shocks in the midst of sexual encounters better than Hoot. But Sanderson was never as quick to adapt to the mental aspects. Too analytical. Hoot peered up, between the mattress and Sanderson's thigh. Sanderson was smiling.
Sanderson arched when Steele's teeth sank into his skin. He'd known Steele would love being fully clothed in a bed with two naked men. He'd known the scenario would make Steele want to possess. But he had not known what the force of that possession would feel like. He had to lower one leg to the floor to ground himself so he wouldn't get the spins.
Steele could have fucked Sanderson, would have, but he'd already done that once that day, and twice would be too much. Physically. Steele like to fuck, and he liked to get fucked, but he wasn't going to pretend fucking a man was the same thing as fucking a woman, or that fucking an asshole was the same thing as fucking a pussy. Recovery time was required. That was a given.
Hoot watched, mesmerized by the white of Steele's teeth against the tan of Sanderson's throat. He couldn't compete with what those two had. He was thankful that whatever they had left room for him, but maybe he should leave the room and let them go at it. There had to be a reason he was on the floor.
Sanderson rolled to the side so Steele could keep Hoot from getting up and leaving. Hoot could not be allowed to leave. He was too important. A key part of the dynamic. Here. Now. Not always. But right now… Sanderson had spent a good twenty minutes on the couch in the office with Steele's cock up his ass, and then Hoot had fucked Steele until Sanderson thought all three of them would burst.
Hoot was the only person in the room who hadn't been fucked. So far.
Steele grabbed the scruffy hair on Hoot's head. It was still short, still carrying a hint of the army about it, but it was strong, wavy hair, the kind that was easy to get hold of and not let slip. He pulled Hoot's head up to his crotch and started working the buttons of his fly. Sanderson's hands, magical helping hands, appeared from behind, on either side of Steele's waist, to help. Sanderson had figured out what was going to happen, even if Hoot hadn't. Yet.
He wouldn't. He wouldn't dare! But he did, and suddenly it didn't seem wrong. With that hand gripping Hoot's hair and that cock standing out of that uniform, everything seemed perfectly fine. Steele hadn't even had time to shower. He must have cleaned up a bit, because he didn't smell rank, but he did smell like sex, and he tasted like sex too. Sex, deep in Hoot's throat, filling his mouth, with that hand pressing him down, close to choking him, but it wasn't that easy to choke a guy like Hoot.
Sanderson slid his hands up Steele's sides and moved them to the front, spreading his fingers out on Steele's chest. He thought he should say something, something really dirty, to encourage Steele to fuck Hoot's mouth, use Hoot's mouth, but the words wouldn't come. Besides, Steele didn't need any encouragement, and neither did Hoot. Instead, Sanderson licked up the side of Steele's neck, behind his ear, up to his scalp.
Steele found it impossible to concentrate on making Hoot service him with Sanderson's tongue on his scalp. He wanted to tell Sanderson to stop, but it would have sounded weak. He growled instead, and Sanderson backed off, trailed his tongue down the back of Steele's skull, settled at the nape, sucking deferentially. Perfectly.
Hoot was going to get fucked. He knew it now. It was as clear as the cock in his mouth. It wasn't only because he was the only one who hadn't been fucked, although he knew Sanderson and Steele would tell themselves that. Hoot had to get fucked because Steele needed to be satisfied. Fully and completely satisfied. Steele needed to be the commanding officer.
Hoot was okay with that.
He would fight back by giving Steele the last thing he expected. He pushed the boxers over his hips. Didn't need them anymore, did he?
Sanderson hovered to the side, not entirely engaged, observing. He'd never really done that with Hoot. What a luxury. It was luxurious to not have to keep track of what his hands were doing, and what his mouth was doing, if his teeth were getting in the way, if he was crushing a stray limb. He watched. He watched Steele haul Hoot up onto the bed, and he watched Hoot settle onto his back, and he watched Steele push Hoot's legs up to his chest. Most of all he watched Hoot submit.
Steele realized that Hoot had probably never submitted to anyone, not like this. He hadn't expected it, so that made him appreciate the effort even more. Hoot let Steele push his legs up and expose his balls and his ass and his asshole. Sanderson was there with a condom and lube immediately, fingers spreading the lube around the opening, pushing the sheath onto Steele, but Sanderson was mostly watching. He crouched down a bit and watched Steele's cock go into Hoot. Close-up. It was almost enough to give Steele performance anxiety.
Not quite enough.
Every muscle in Hoot's body protested. He was being penetrated by the enemy. A fucking authority figure. Goddamn. No, his body said. No. All parts of his body except for his asshole, which was a change, because even though Hoot loved to get fucked, he usually had to do at least a little prep. There was usually at least a bit of a struggle to get a cock inside him. Except for when he was desperate. Unless it was Sanderson's cock… or Steele's apparently. Damn. He opened up like some kind of greedy little…
"Slut," Sanderson whispered.
Steele grunted.
"Look at him," Sanderson cooed. "Him and his slutty asshole."
Hoot stopped fighting his muscles. He let them tense, push, buck, twist, flex, shove Steele off him. But Sanderson was there, knees on either side of Hoot's head, holding his arms and shoulders down. And Steele was pushing Hoot's legs into his chest, sliding his cock deeper inside Hoot.
That was when Hoot realized that Steele was still in uniform.
It was too vast for words.
Hoot howled.
There goes the neighborhood, Sanderson thought. They'd kept the noise to a tolerable level up until now, but Hoot was unhinged. He was bucking all over the place. Sanderson had to put his knees on top of Hoot's shoulders and grab onto Steele. That way the three of them could bounce around the bed as a single unit. Steele had his arms all the way around Hoot, with his chest pressed up against Hoot's shins and his hands somewhere… Sanderson tried to calculate where Steele's hands would be. He couldn’t see them. He couldn't see a goddamn thing except for the back of Steele's head, the desert camo plastered to his sweaty back, his tight ass with the waistband of his trousers cutting into it about halfway down. Sanderson got a glimpse of shiny boot.
Fuck. Steele was in uniform.
There was a lot of grunting and howling going on. Steele wasn't fucking so hard anymore, but the three of them had, to be honest, had enough sex that day already. They should have been sated well into the next week. There was hardness and pheromones and testosterone and desire, but there wasn't that much urgency. There would be likely be chafing before dawn.
Hoot turned his head and bit Sanderson's inner thigh.
Sanderson didn't mind. Hey, whatever he needed to do to withstand the onslaught.
Once Hoot stop struggling so much, Sanderson was able to free up a hand so he could at least jerk off. His cock was sore from all the fucking, even though it hadn't fucked anything all day. It had come. Three times. When Steele fucked him, when he'd jerked off when Hoot fucked Steele, then when he'd jerked off again… it seemed so long ago. After eating. After showering. After brushing his teeth. Before Hoot showed up. A quick jerk-off into the toilet, like when he was a teenager and he didn't want anyone to know. Pointless, really. Except now this was happening and he wanted on so many levels, and his cock was even hard but it wasn't ready to come.
Hoot dug his fingers into Steele's shoulders. He needed to catch his breath. He needed to catch his breath so he could say something. Steele was big and hard in his asshole, but he wasn't anywhere near coming and Hoot couldn't take much more of this.
Correction. He could take it. Hoot could take anything. But Sanderson couldn’t. Sanderson was flailing away on his cock, desperate to come but unable. And Hoot knew just what would push him over the edge. Hoot took a deep breath.
"Do you think McKnight fucks Grimes in full uniform?" he asked loudly. "With Grimes buck naked?"
Steele stopped fucking Hoot. He froze, cock halfway in. He imagined Grimes on his back with his legs shoved up against his chest and McKnight hovering over him, a great bear of a man in full uniform, full Colonel fucking his pretty boy.
Sanderson whimpered. He imagined Grimes bent over his desk and McKnight behind him, in full uniform. He imagined that McKnight had a beercan cock, dark and thick, and that Grimes' ass was pale because he would never go out in the sun naked and his natural coloring was pale. That of a redhead. With his reddish hair falling over his greeny-bluey-gray eyes and his mouth wide open from the shock, even after all these years, of McKnight's sheer girth.
Hoot grunted, wriggled his ass so that Steele's cock would hit him just right, and delivered the coup de grâce.
"I bet Grimes calls him 'sir'."
Everyone started moving again at once. In unison. Perfectly synchronized. Clockwork. Well-oiled clockwork. Steele came first. He shoved Hoot's legs apart and fell on his chest. Sanderson came next, and his come spurted somewhat feebly onto Steele's scalp. Hoot squirmed out from under Steele and started licking the come off his scalp, which made Sanderson wish he could come all over again. Instead, he urged Steele down, away from Hoot's mouth. Sanderson finished licking up the come and Steele took Hoot in his mouth. After all, what was the point of sharing his grouchy, experienced officer with Hoot if Hoot didn't get to try out one of the best parts of Steele?
It didn't feel like bottoming when Steele worked his lips down Hoot's shaft. It felt like he was doing Hoot a favor. Steele didn't mind that at all.
Hoot tried to wrap his head around the facts. His asshole was stretched out, recently fucked by Steele. Sanderson had come on Steele's scalp. The taste of Sanderson's come off Steele's scalp was permanently burned onto his tongue. Steele's mouth - his goddamn mouth - was on Hoot's cock and Steele was good. He knew how to suck a cock. He knew how to suck a cock very well. No teeth. Hoot liked a little teeth but no teeth was special. Strong, firm lips. Tongue moving, probing, swiping. Cheeks hollowing.
Hoot didn't want to come in Steele's mouth.
Steele didn't give him a choice.
Sanderson watched.
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