Delta Squad stands among pools of blood and splattered organs, shiny wet red crudely reflecting the clear turquoise of the sky. The smell of gunpowder, motor oil and the stench of seared flesh fills the air, as if to mock the beautifully bright sunny day. The ambush on the Locust stronghold had clearly been a success, and the sweet smell of victory never gets old to this group of men.
Trotting up to Marcus, Carmine exhibits a puppy-like exuberance, his body nearly breaking out into a full-blown giddy wiggle, "I can't believe we all made it through in one piece, that was incredible!" Carmine's voice comes out breathless and excitable. Muffled by his helmet, he always sounds a bit like he's trapped inside of a tin can. "I'm starting to get the hang of the re-loading, I only jammed my gun once, Sir!"
Cole mockingly chimes in, elbowing Dom, "Hey Marcus, what about me? I got twelve headshots...do I get a cookie?"
"Can it, Cole." Marcus places an encouraging hand on Carmine's shoulder as he looks to one of the abandoned buildings. Hidden away at the end of the ravaged street, sits an old two-story house riddled with large bullet holes and ammo casings. Tattered by war and weather, the doors are all missing and every single one of its windows are busted out or boarded over, the glass and wood jutting out like the mangled teeth of a monster.
Touching a finger to his ear, Marcus gets in contact with headquarters, "Marcus Fenix and B. Carmine are going behind enemy lines, initiating radio silence. As usual, if any shit goes down, contact Dom in my place. Fenix out."
Marcus turns to face Dom and Cole, both men wearing a similar expression of impatience, seeing though Marcus' fib like a sheet of glass.
"Man, I really don't think we should stick around here, we should keep on moving...can't this wait?" Dom protests, idly kicking at a severed locust hand.
"I'm teaching the Rook a few things before we move on. We cleaned this place out top to bottom, we deserve some down time to let our guns cool." Marcus points at two large derelict pillars supporting the old house, its once-white paint chipped and peeling, "Dom, you man that post. Cole, you get the other. Make sure we won't be bothered while we're up there." Marcus glances at Carmine and adds, "And for Christ's sake, keep a look out for any snipers." Marcus pauses, his voice dropping to a lower level of gruffness laced with irritation, "Where the hell is Baird?"
Marcus leads the way into the house, casually checking behind disheveled bookcases and overturned furniture for any remaining enemies. Carmine brings up the rear, super alert and shadowing Marcus' every step as they ascend the stairs towards one of the ravaged rooms.
Surveying the outside area through the boarded upstairs window, Marcus calls Carmine over, pointing at the litter of damage and body parts strewn all over the street, "C'mere, I want you to see something." Carmine stands behind Marcus, curious yet cautious, peeking up over his shoulder, "Sir?" His tin-can voice comes out both attentive and respectful, a tone that Marcus hasn't heard for a long time.
Marcus turns to face Carmine, placing his hands on his armored shoulders. He stares into the glowing neon blue eyes of his helmet, "You trust me don't you?" Marcus can almost see Carmine's mouth drop open, as if asking that question was painfully absurd, "Of course I do, you're Sergent Fenix, I...I've been hearing about you for ages!" Carmine's trill voice drops down a notch as he continues, "My brother spoke highly of you, Sir."
Marcus quickly changes the subject, hooking his thumbs underneath the edges of Carmine's helmet, "I told you, cut the shit Kid. We're not that polite around here." He feels the Rook's body tense up, uneasy at the thought of removing his helmet, but he doesn't jerk away. Marcus gives the helmet a little tug and Carmine lifts his chin, allowing the heavy mask to more easily slip off of his head.
Carmine shakes his head from side-to-side and runs his hand through a mess of shaggy blond hair the color of a wheat field. He looks back up at Marcus with a set of dark blue eyes, shining almost as brightly as those of his helmet. An awkward moment passes between them, Carmine stands equipped with a sheepish grin, his lancer still in his right hand, forgotten and carelessly pointed at the floor.
Marcus moves in closer, wrapping his hand around Carmine's. He fingers the lancer out of his hand, sending it crashing to the floor, their noses close enough to nearly touch. A sudden air of realization flows over Carmine, his eyes glimmering with a new kind of excitement as he wills away his body's insistence on trying to make his knees buckle out from under him.
He stands wide-eyed and nervous until Marcus' lips meet his own, smoothing his nerves out and sending a fire through his body that feels like it will burn right through the surface of his skin. Marcus' tongue explores its way hotly into Carmine's mouth, guiding him until they fall into a natural rhythm.
Carmine fumbles with Marcus' heavy belt, tugging and pulling, his cheeks flushing a bright pink until he finally frees it, tossing it on the floor next to his Lancer. Lip-locked, Marcus guides Carmine's hand to his waist, instructing his unzipping and unbuttoning until Carmine is fishing around inside, finally wrapping his warm hand around Marcus' cock and pulling it out of his pants.
Carmine slides down Marcus' body, until he's on his knees. He carefully begins licking and tasting, running his tongue over sensitive skin with calculated movements, testing his way up from the base to finally wrap his soft pink lips around the head of his thick cock. He sucks slowly at first, with the unsure movements of a rookie, yet the eagerness of a quick learner.
Kneeling and pressed firmly up against a large wooden crate, Marcus quiets his breathing as his war-trained ears catch a faint sound coming from near the entrance of the room.
Leaning the weight of his body against the rugged door frame with his arms smugly crossed in front of him, is Baird. With an arrogant "I knew it" smirk tugging at both corners of his mouth, he watches the two of them with an overabundance of silent approval. Marcus flashes Baird a sideways glance, his eyes half-shut with lust as he keeps his finger on the trigger of his lancer, pulling it off of his back, raising and pointing it in a not-so-threatening way at Baird, who has nothing but a wink to offer in response.
Keeping his eyes on him, Marcus rotates his hips, encouraging a faster pace, Carmine willingly obliges like a good student, daring to wrap his hands around Marcus to clutch his ass. Marcus lowers his gun and arches his back slightly, to subtly offer a better view to Baird, like testing him with an open invitation. An invitation that he eagerly accepts, one that he has never been able to deny.
Baird leaves his stealth behind and walks noisily towards them, with heavy clomping steps and the jangle of weaponry Carmine finally becomes aware of his presence. Carmine freezes, standing there on his knees like a bastard child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he looks up to Marcus for instructions, his big blue eyes concerned and as wide as dinner plates.
"You've got nothing to worry about, Kiddo." Baird says in his most arrogant of voices, "I happen to be damn good at this particular sort of mission, well, not that I'm ever bad at ANY sort of mission since I'm..." Baird trails off as Marcus interrupts him in a gravelly tone, "I'm sure you can come up with something better to do with your mouth than run it all day."
Baird snarks out in response, "Oh ho, Sir yes Sir!" as Marcus rolls his eyes at him.
Circling around behind, Baird runs his hands through Carmine's blond tangled hair, pressing him down onto Marcus' cock, guiding him back into a slow steady rhythm. His calloused fingers wrap down around Carmine's warm neck, feeling the muscles and tendons shift and change in sync with his gentle sucking motions, his head rising and falling.
Baird lowers to his knees and with expert hands he goes to work at the lower half of Carmine's armor, removing awkward clunky boots, holsters and weighty layers of clothing until he's wrestled his way to smooth naked ivory skin, including an award-worthy cock uninhibitedly hard and slick with pre-cum.
Baird spreads Carmine open, an ass cheek gripped in both of his hands as he licks circles around the opening, he teases, flicking his tongue in and out ever so slightly before slipping the length of it into him, twisting and twirling, in and out until he's moaning helplessly, sounding slightly nasally as his mouth still works away on Marcus.
Baird reveals the stiff length of his cock, pressing the head gently against Carmine's most sensitive place. He eases in slowly and carefully, the tip barely inside when Carmine freezes his whole body, his muscles strung tight as a violin. Baird speaks with as much kindness as he can muster, "Just relax, it will only hurt for a second." Marcus brushes the hair away from Carmine's worried forehead, "It's true, Ben. Trust him."
At the sound of Marcus' voice, Carmine relaxes, holding his breath as he eases himself onto Baird. Baird moans his approval, feeling his entire length tightly slide into him. Starting at a painfully slow pace, Baird steadily increases his thrusting, careful to time it with Carmine's approving groans.
Standing near the tall pillars outside, Dom and Cole take turns trying to throw empty ammo casings into an stray hubcap. Dom glances over to Cole, "Sounds like they found Baird."
Cole laughs, "I bet Baird is the one who found them, that bastard's got a sex radar or somethin'. If it's goin' on, he knows about it before it even happens."
Dom smirks, "Well it sounds like it's a good lesson, anyway."
Baird animalistically pounds into Carmine, picking up in both speed and aggression. His hips slam into him so hard, red welts start to form on either of his ass cheeks, but he doesn't even flinch. In fact Carmine arches his back and leans into it, practically begging for it like a starved animal desperate for a meal. Intoxicating sounds flood from Carmine's throat, reverberating over Marcus' cock, sending pleasure waves up his spine.
Marcus thrusts deeper into Carmine's mouth, feels that little click at the back of the Kid's throat, followed by those sore lips impressively enclosed around him way down at the base. Marcus notices a slight stutter in the pace, a soft gag coming from way down deep in Carmine's throat, but damn, you have to give the Rook credit, he didn't even come up for air. Hell, at this point a little bit of vomit isn't going to bother any of them anyway.
Marcus tears his focus away from watching his cock being swallowed and makes eye contact with Baird, who's doing his best to fuck Carmine at a pace to match with the sucking. A fast droplet of sweat runs down Baird's face on a zig-zag path, ending its trail at his mouth. He licks away the salty taste, running his tongue slowly over his lips, staring back at Marcus. The two of them instantaneously lean together over Carmine, meeting in a violent kiss of furious tongues and teeth, swapping the taste of sweat and lust between them. Their hands grab at each others faces and necks, bite and suck on each others lips.
Marcus slides himself away from the kiss, and moves down to Baird's neck. Hundreds of little invisible blood vessels burst and bleed underneath Baird's skin, huge crimson and purple hickey bruises form under Marcus' mouth as he ravenously sucks and teethes at the most sensitive parts of his neck. Just a soft bite at first, followed by one that's white-hot blindingly hard right over his jugular. The sharpest points of Marcus' teeth break into Baird's raw skin, tiny pinprick uniform rows of blood come to the surface, bright red and boiling hot, the coppery metallic taste driving Marcus into a primal fury. He orgasms violent and fast like a shotgun and without warning. Still locked onto Baird's neck, Marcus nearly screams through his teeth as waves of fiery cum overflow Carmine's hungry mouth. He swallows what he can manage into his empty stomach, letting the rest of it run out and drip down his chin, landing in big splattery drops on the worn wooden floor.
Baird pulls out slowly as Marcus brings Carmine's face up to his own. They pause for a moment before kissing, almost gently, slow and deep until Baird jealously pulls Carmine away.
Sitting on the floor, Baird rotates Carmine around to face him, Marcus moving in place behind him, grabbing ahold of his hips. Marcus directs Carmine into a straddling position, standing him on his knees over Baird. With a firm grip he presses him downwards, the head of Baird's cock slowly slipping inside of Carmine, both men sharing their own sex language of blatant cursing muttered in between clenched teeth and strained breaths, and then the unmistakable gasp and groan as Carmine thrusts himself onto his cock, pushing it all the way inside of him.
Marcus keeps his grip on Carmine's hips, guiding him to start a deep and steady pace, working up to a much faster one until Carmine's on his own, lost in his world of pleasure and pain, riding Baird as hard and as fast as he can. Marcus wraps his left arm up around Carmine's neck, putting him almost in a stranglehold, pulling him back, and making him work at a more extreme angle. Marcus watches Baird watching Carmine, his mouth slack and eyelids heavy, a random obscenity escaping him every so often. The familiar little "Elvis" lip curl tells him Baird is about to trigger. Marcus wraps his other hand around Carmine's aching cock, pumping it in fast and steady movements until his breathing comes out in short and fast little spurts, his muscles tense and lock into place under tight flushed skin as he lets out a strained satisfied yell, his orgasm flooding out in thick sticky strings, running down Marcus' fingers and in between Carmine's thighs as he continues to ride Baird.
Baird isn't far behind, his eyes rolling back into his head. He clutches onto the calf muscles of Carmine's legs, squeezing so hard that he leaves half circles of dime-sized bruises where his fingers dig in. He releases deep inside of Carmine, hot and fulfilling, cursing in between long moans and slow thrusts until he's completely spent.
Baird has composed himself and is headed out the door just as quickly as he had arrived, motioning at the stairs in an over-exaggerated manner, "Well, as fun as this has been boys, and I really do mean that, I'm just dying to smash some locust skulls in." He gestures towards the general location of Dom and Cole, "And it just wouldn't be fair for me to leave my adoring public waiting." And then he's gone, stomping his way down the stairs after gracing the two of them with one final arrogant wink.
Marcus waits for Carmine to straighten himself up, patiently holding his helmet for him. Carmine slowly re-buckles and re-attaches everything, eventually standing on one foot, doing a little flamingo dance while he struggles to get his other boot on.
In spite of himself, Marcus smiles.