Smutty smutty ninja smut. Enjoy!
Snake Eyes buckled the safety harness across his chest and heard the faint "click" of Scarlett doing the same to his left. The rhythmic thwip thwip thwip of the Tomahawk's propeller changed in pitch as Tommy took the chopper up.
Well, that had most definitely not been fun. If he never met another robot that looked like him again, it would be too soon. Killing a perfect likeness of oneself as it tried to kill the love of his life was not a memory that he'd much enjoy.
But, they'd gotten out, and the robotic doubles and four dozen odd vipers were definitely not going to be causing any more havoc. All in all, it had been a successful mission, if an extremely weird one.
He gave a mental shrug. Weird happens to be our specialty, after all. Particularly his and Tommy's; name him two other ninjitsu-trained commandos in any military division.
Tommy was talking to his headset; Snake knew that Clutch would be asking after the health of his beloved Tomahawk. Snake didn't particularly blame Clutch for the panic that he'd seen when himself, Shana, and Tommy had checked out the chopper. Wild Bill tended to regard all of the Tomahawks as his personal property, and he could get…ah, sharp with mechanics that let his darlings out to less than trusted hands.
Meaning, of course, any hands but his. And Snake knew his sword-brother well enough to know that Tommy found tormenting the quartermaster and motor pool techs to be just hilarious.
"Yes, we all survived." Tommy's voice was dry. "Not for lack of effort on Destro's part. You want me to tell you exactly what I did to the half a dozen vipers that he set up as snipers?"
A pause. "Clutch, you should know better than to bet with Ace. Particularly against me."
Snake tuned out the one-sided conversation. The mechanics at the motor pool were still somewhat resentful of Tommy for the equipment damage that the white-clad ninja had inflicted during his years with COBRA. Tommy, being Tommy, enjoyed his notoriety perhaps a little too much.
He relaxed back into the seat, feeling the adrenaline high of battle beginning to cool, transmuting into the warm satisfaction of a successful mission, the sharper heat of Shana's hand on his thigh…
He shot a look at his fiancé. Shana, her face smudged with dirt, a dark stain of blood on her BDU shirt from one of the vipers she'd knifed, was giving him a truly wicked look. He knew that look, and usually it was perhaps the best thing he could ever see; it was the look that Shana got when The Mood struck. Usually, he was only more than happy to, ahem, go along with her when she got that look. Actually, enthusiastic was probably the better term for his normal response to that look.
Usually, they weren't still both on duty, and ten feet from his sword-brother. Snake knew that successful missions usually sent him and Shana in fairly short order to the bedroom. The only question usually was which one of them would drag the other to privacy post-debriefing.
Damn. ONE look from her, and his hormones were rapidly turning post-battle adrenaline and his fear and worry when he'd seen her down and apparently wounded into white-hot lust. Easy, Snake. The Pit was only a two-hour flight. He had enough self-control to go that long without jumping her.
Then her hands moved on his thigh, signing. *I am going to do SUCH things to you, Snake Eyes*. He looked over at her sharply; she was looking at him out of the corner of her eyes, and that smirk was just pure sin.
He could actually feel his discipline fraying as she ran her fingers in little circles on his thigh. She was smiling, looking him in the eyes, and now she gently nibbled her lower lip in the way that she knew drove him crazy.
*Shana…* He signed. She ignored him, running her fingers northwards along his thigh.
Sweet Jesus…He bit back a choked gasp. Get a grip on yourself, man. He brought his hands up again. *Shana, Tommy's right there.*
She stilled his hands with hers, leaned very close, and whispered. "Storm's busy piloting. He won't look, and couldn't see anyways." She tugged up the edge of his mask, and began nibbling at the line of his throat, flicking her tongue at the point where his neck and shoulder met.
Oh, that's it. His mask and visor hit the seat behind them, and he had his mouth under his, and she was sliding her tongue against his and making eager little sounds against him. Mmmm.
Click. That was her restraint webbing coming undone, and she slid into his lap, straddling him. He slid his hands down her back, feeling the sinuous line of her spine, and settled his hands on her waist.
A small part of his mind was making a last-ditch effort to remind him that this was a bad idea. His sword-brother was literally only a few arm lengths away, and he knew how good Tommy's hearing was. This was unprofessional; technically they were still on duty. This… Sweet god, she was nibbling on his earlobe.
Distantly, he heard Tommy's voice. His sword brother was asking them how they were doing, or if they were enjoying the flight, or something to that effect. Snake wasn't really listening; it didn't sound important, and the sound of Shana's breath in his ear definitely did.
Mmmmm. His hands were sliding, almost of their own accord, up under Scarlett's BDU top. Her nipples brushed against his palms, and she made a very soft little sound of pleasure against his lips. Her hands were moving against his chest, running over his shoulders, up through his hair, and suddenly he really didn't care about Tommy, or regulations, or anything but that the woman he loved was running her tongue over the sensitive skin just under his ear.
A few breathless moments later and she breathed in his ear, almost shy. "Snake? I…I've been wanting to do something for awhile now."
As long as she kept rocking her hips against him like that, he would have done pretty much anything. And how could she sound tentative when she was running her fingers over his biceps and down his chest?
She took a breath. "I want to make love to you right here, Snake. Just like this; in the aftermath of battle, on the tail of the fear and the madness and the excitement. Right here in the chopper."
"Don't worry." She murmured. "I'll be quiet." Her nimble fingers were on his belt clasp, and then were sliding past it, and she squeezed him with a truly wicked smile, not so gently. He felt something snap.
Four and a half seconds later, their pants were off, he had his hands on her hips, and he was thrusting up as she settled herself down on his lap once more. Ah. He smiled as he tasted her gasp. Then she moved, and a shiver went down his spine, sharp and hot.
Ah. Christ…He tightened his grip on her hips, and set a pace that was fast, hard, and deep. She dug her nails into his biceps, threw her head back, and bit her lip to stifle a moan.
Mine. He felt tension singing through him, but this was a tension that was good, was sweet and hot and healing, driving from him the last of the panic that he'd felt since seeing her crumpling unconscious to the floor. God, he'd been so afraid when he'd seen her go limp and ragdoll to the floor after his robotic double had thrown her across the room. But she was alive, and she was moving against him, around him, and her lips were on his and she was his.
This wasn't going to last long; he knew that. Both of them were still riding too high on adrenaline and still too close to the bright brittle madness of battle; the same hyper-aware sensitivity that let him dodge a bullet, let her put a crossbow bolt through the forehead of a hidden sniper, was driving them to the edge fast and hard.
He gritted his teeth, feeling the slide of her around him, the softness, the heat. She was tightening, almost to her peak. She buried her face against his shoulder, stifling the sounds that she couldn't bite back.
Ahhh…Shana, god...! He felt himself tightening, and fought to last out just a few more glorious seconds.
Then Scarlett came, hard, sinking her teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming and clenching tight around him. The prick of the pain, the rippling of her muscles around him drove him over the edge with her. He came in a long, shuddering rush, his fingers biting into her skin tightly enough to leave red marks.
They rested for a moment, breathing, riding out the aftershocks in each others arms. Snake moved first, lifting a hand to brush a thumb over her cheek. She leaned into his touch, sighing, contented.
A long moment, and she moved off of him. In silence, they rearranged their clothes and gear, and she buckled back into her safety webbing. He reached over, brought her hand to his lips, and brushed his once-more masked lips over the back of her hand.
*I love you, Shana. But you're going to be the death of me.*
"Love you too, Snake." She paused, smiled, and there was a touch of humor in her eyes. "I guess it was kinda silly of me to be worried about you, huh? I mean, it's not as if a robot could ever do half of what you can."
He smiled. *I'm just glad it didn't hurt you.*
She snorted, none to softly. "Please. I've taken harder hits from that sparring you."
Tommy's voice came from the cockpit. "Glad to hear that you're alive, Scarlett. I was getting worried; I hadn't heard a word out of you for almost ten minutes."
Snake let out a slow breath. Thank God. He'd been worried. As his lust-fogged brain cleared, he'd been wondering if they'd been perhaps a little too loud, even given the covering racket made by the Tomahawk's rotors.
"Sorry, Storm." Shana said cheerfully. "I was talking to Snake. I didn't know that you'd miss the sound of my voice so much."
"I'm just not used to you shutting up for more than thirty consecutive seconds."
Scarlett leaned around to peek into the cockpit and flipped Tommy off. Snake Eyes heard his sword brother laugh. "I should have known that you were fine…my sword brother would have been frantic if you were hurt."
Well…yes, that was true. Snake Eyes knew that he contributed to Doc's high blood pressure whenever Scarlett was injured. He hovered. He paced. He fretted. He'd been known to grab Lifeline by the collar and threaten to shake information out of the poor medic when Shana was really in bad shape.
"Oh, and by the way," Tommy's voice had suddenly gone just incredibly smug. Snake Eyes groaned to himself. Sonova… "You two are on your own for greenshirt hand to hand next week. I think that I'm going to be feeling lazy from one to two thirty every afternoon."
"Why?" How on earth did Shana manage that innocent tone? Snake dropped his head into his hands. He'd known it was a bad idea…
"Because if you don't, I'm going to tell Wild Bill that you two have been christening his Tomahawks." Snake Eyes could actually hear the smirk on Tommy's face.
"Oh." Scarlett actually flushed. "You heard that? Over the chopper?"
"Mmhm." Storm Shadow made an affirmative noise. "And I'm being generous…the mental trauma alone should mean that I get at least a full month without having to deal with greenshirts."
"Oh." Scarlett turned to Snake. "Looks like we're teaching greenshirt hand to hand without Tommy."
Snake Eyes sighed. *You are going to be the death of me, Shana.*
She patted his arm, and smiled suddenly. "Least it'll be fun."
Anyone who can name the comic that I based this story off of gets a shiny prize fic!