Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3520424.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Red_vs._Blue
  Relationship:
      Locus/Agent_Washington
  Character:
      Agent_Washington_(Red_vs._Blue), Locus_(Red_vs._Blue), Sarge_(Red_vs.
      Blue), Franklin_Delano_Donut, Lopez_(Red_vs._Blue), Donald_Doyle, Emily
      Grey
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, Underage_Sex, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Past_Underage,
      Sexual_Content, Memories, Repressed_Memories, Re-Meeting, Chance
      Meetings, Military
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-10 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 6176
****** Breathe, Soldier ******
by twerkules_mulligan
Summary
     There are things Washington has failed to tell Tucker and Caboose
     about, or even Sarge and Donut for that matter. A lot happened before
     they left the Feds... things Washington will never forget. In which
     nightmares are a constant for Wash, and Locus is terrifying, more
     terrifying than the nightmares. He swears it's nothing at first...
     but it keeps the monsters away. At least, the ones in his dreams...
***** Part 1: Giving Me The Creeps *****
Breathe, Soldier
Part 1: Giving Me The Creeps
Pairing: Locington (Locus/Agent Washington)
A/N: Was meant originally for just smut, but I actually got carried away...
again. Locington is a huge ship of mine, so... yeah. Once again, it seems I'm
once again torturing Washington, but at least he's more controlled in this, if
ya know what I mean (And by that I mean not at all in some ways).
...
"F-Fuck!"
The younger, much less experienced teenager, moved along with the man on top of
him, allowing the older boy to take control. All of this was so wrong... but
David was sixteen, sixteen and desperate to break a few rules. This man offered
him that. David briefly remembered a name for the guy... was it Rufus? God, he
couldn't think, much less breathe with the two thankfully lube-covered fingers
rocking into his once virgin hole, trying to ease around and find his prostate.
Young David did as the man instructed, shifting when he was told, but listening
and focusing was getting continuously harder as those seemingly magic fingers
did their job. Dave gasped aloud as Rufus's index finger brushed his prostate,
making him jerk at once. He'd never felt anything quite like it before.
"Finally," Rufus laughed, smiling down at David, as if he were a little,
helpless mouse. "Thought I'd never find it. Are you ready, David?"
David nodded, whimpering a tad as those fingers left him, making him feel empty
and hot all at once. Before he could grow too saddened by the latest loss,
something much bigger than a finger lightly prodded at his hole, making David
grunt, trying to push down and get it in hard and fast. Rufus, or whatever his
name was, didn't let David suffer for long, quickly complying and easing his
own erection into the pitiful blond's asshole. David moaned as the first thrust
rocked him back, his head hitting the headboard of his small bed. Nana wouldn't
be home for another four hours, so he didn't hold back as he almost screamed as
another thrust damn near made him cum. Rufus was going faster, faster than
anything, and David was reaching his peek, especially as Rufus started jerking
David's erected dick, making him moan even louder.
"F-Fuck... I'm close!" David warned Rufus, whimpering as he tried to shut his
mouth. Yeah, nobody but he and Rufus were home, but still... he had never liked
being loud, not at school, not at home, not anywhere.
"Just come," Rufus offered, his tone going gentle as he jerked David harder and
faster, his latest thrust making him come himself. "Just let it go, David."
As David finally came, his hot cum splashing in-between he and Rufus, when he
heard something like an explosion going off. He opened his eyes minutes later,
still panting and worn out, only to see Rufus gone. "Rufus?" He called out,
looking around. Why did he feel like this had happened before? It couldn't
though, he'd never had sex of any kind up until that point, so how-
He woke up.
...
"Agent Wash?"
"Sh! Sarge, I think he's still sleeping!"
"Of course he is, dumbnuts! Why ya think 'm tryin' to wake his ass up!?"
"But, Sarge!"
"Don't try my patience, boy."
Agent David Cooper Washington awoke with a groan, coming to with a drowsy
headache setting in, as well as aches and pains entering other various limbs of
his body. Where was he? As he sat up and looked around, Washington became aware
of where he was. He was with the Feds, the Federal Army of Chorus to be more
specific, and he'd only come to after a short coma the day before. He had a
check-up with the Fed's doctor at six AM... but what time was it anyhow? The
soldier stood up, instantly regretting it as he felt a very sharp morning wood
burn in anguish inside of his codpiece. The man wanted to groan, but held back,
keeping a straight face as he faced Sarge and Donut.
"Wash, you're up!" Donut cried cheerfully, smiling down at the man, his helmet
discarded while the rest of his armor was on securely. "Doctor Grey wanted us
to tell you that you were late, and she wants to see you ASAP!"
"Dammit, Donut!" Sarge cried, smacking the younger rookie on the head, his own
helmet already locked on. He and Wash had similar standards when it came to
wearing armor. "You didn't even tell 'em 'bout Lopez!"
"Lopez?" Washington questioned, only to remember the Spanish robot a second too
late. "I thought they fixed him yesterday, where is he anyhow?"
Sarge would've looked heartbroken by Washington's guess if he'd been unarmored.
"Aw, Lopez, my only real friend... they took 'em off 'n said he needed fixin'!
Oh, why, why you terrible, forsaken God I once swore was Red!?" He collapsed
onto Wash out of seemingly nowhere.
The grey soldier was completely surprised, but soon softened, patting Sarge's
backing both awkwardly and comfortingly. "I'm... sure he's fine, Sarge... they
wouldn't hurt Lopez, not on our watch." He had comforted his Nana on more than
one occasion, but this, comforting an insane war veteran? Wash was clueless as
to what to do. "Um... I better go see the doctor. I'll be back soon, 'kay?"
"Okey dokey!" Donut replied, taking Washington's place in hugging Sarge, but he
did it with more passion and enthusiasm. "Just leave him to me, Wash! I can
comfort any man in his hour of need!"
"Um... thanks, Donut..." Wash muttered, walking off, but not without a
noticeable limp in his step, coming from the awful hard-on between his legs.
Oh yes... It was going to be a long day.
...
The grey Freelancer moved quickly down the hallways, figuring out halfway to
the main entrance that he had no clue where the doctor's office was. No matter,
he could find it on his own! Washington walked more slowly this time, feet
echoing in the empty halls, seeing as all of the soldiers were out training or
in the mess hall eating. As a few more minutes passed by, Wash became
continuously more lost, until he'd wound up somewhere farther off from the
barracks. He looked around earnestly, trying to spot anything that looked
remotely like a doctor's office, but everything looked so much alike, it was
hard to spot any particular landmarks or signs. Sighing, Wash was ready to give
up, until a deep voice spoke from behind him.
"Agent Washington, you're up rather late." Locus commented, standing directly
behind the Freelancer.
Washington swung around full force, glaring daggers behind his visor at the
mercenary. How in God's name had Locus gotten the drop on him? Had to be the
invisibility upgrade to his armor, Wash reasoned. "What're you doing here,
Locus?"
The mercenary put away his weapon, stepping closer to Wash, a little too close
really. "The Doctor asked me to fetch you... you're an hour late for your
check-up, Agent."
The no doubt younger man looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with the way Locus
was looking at him. "Thanks, I guess." He muttered out, turning towards what he
hoped was the doctor's office.
"Other way." Locus explained, without even looking at Washington.
"Oh, uh, I know. Just had to turn around, that's all." Washington fibbed,
running past Locus again to another building.
Before he could get away though, Wash was grabbed by the back of his upper-body
armor, being yanked backwards by Locus. "Agent Washington, in the future, if
you're ever in need of a guide around the camp... I'd be happy to oblige." The
mercenary promised, soon letting go, his grip having lingered a bit.
"Yeah, I'll keep it in mind, thanks," Washington lied, walking back towards the
doctor's office. "I said it before and I'll say it again, Locus; you aren't my
friend." The Freelancer stated, turning to glare again at Locus.
Locus simply nodded, pulling out his Saw once more, walking away. "I've never
wanted to befriend you, Agent." He muttered, like he hadn't been planing on
saying it but said it anyways, before disappearing once more from the man's
vision.
Wash shivered, shaking his head. "And I thought I was melodramatic... creepy
motherfucker." He muttered, running off again to find Dr. Grey and get his
stupid check-up over with.
...
"Great to see you showed up, Agent Washington," Emily Grey greeted, looking
none too happy at her patient's lateness. "I'll need you to strip out of your
armor now and sit on the bed, please."
"But, I-" It felt odd somewhere in Washington's mind that he spoke up, but hey,
he wasn't about to just show his body to anybody. Of course, if he had ready
expected to avoid this, he would've just never shown up. "Are you sure we need
to-"
"Agent Washington," Wash heard a certain amount of both anger and impatience
leaking in Dr. Grey's throat. "You're already very late for your check-up, and
I have other patients waiting for me. Please, don't make me get someone to come
help." By help, Wash could deduce she meant have someone come and manhandle him
out of his armor.
Washington tried not to make any smartass retorts as he finally started to pull
off his armor, minding the doctor's steady gaze on his person. He squirmed a
bit under that look, reminding himself that she was a doctor, one who he could
trust in looking at his body. The thing was, the only people who'd ever seen
him naked were his long since dead parents, his Nana, the prostitute he'd hired
at sixteen to fuck him senseless and good, Maine, The Director (He'd screamed
that time), and Carolina (Again, screamed). That was quite the list, but Wash
still felt a certain touch of modesty. He'd always been modest body-wise,
rarely talking-wise (He couldn't even count how many times he'd back-talked
York or North).
However, he pushed those remaining strands of fearfulness out the window as he
found himself only in his boxers and helmet, thinking that he must've looked
ridiculous. Emily sighed, smirking though as she forced Washington to sit on a
medical fold-out table. "You're more modest than a rookie during his first
group-shower." She commented, running her hands over his ribs, making the man
stiffen on instinct. "Easy there, tiger," She ordered, voice soft. "I'm not
gonna kill you... hopefully."
"That doesn't really help, to be honest," Wash promised, freezing when Emily
stopped checking his bandaged sides, hands making a move for the seal-release
on his helmet. "Don't... don't do that."
"I need to check your head for any signs of a concussion, as well as review the
surgery I did a few days ago." Emily explained, stopping to take her own helmet
off. Her eyes were shocking purple, while her hair was a soft auburn color.
"See? S'not so bad." She explained.
"I'm not a child," Wash muttered, but allowed Emily to take his helmet away,
his arms wrapping around his middle. "Stop talking to me like I'm crazy."
Emily placed Washington's helmet beside the Freelancer, returning her hands to
his face, to which Wash tried not to meet her eyes, trying to turn away, only
making her irritated. "Oh, stop it, ya big baby!" She ordered, smirking as Wash
huffed. "Hold still, I'm almost done."
After what felt like forever, Emily Grey let go of Washington's face, walking
back over to her computer, which was set up on her desk idly. She picked up a
mic connected to it, clicking it on. "Patient Agent Washington shows signs of
past abuse, as predicted. Patient also showed reluctance to follow orders, as
well as a shocking amount of modesty. The surgery seems to have been a success,
no lasting trauma seems to have come to the neural implants in the patient's
neck. On an added note, the patient's eyes are grey/blue, his hair is a suicide
blond, and he seems to have some Asian heritage. I have theories that he is a
Patch Baby. Finish Recording."
"You do that for every patient?" Wash asked playfully, but didn't make any
further moves to unwind before the doctor. He silently pretended that a part of
him hadn't internally flinched at the mentioning of Patch Babies.
"It's necessary these days," Emily explained, moving back over to Washington,
lifting one of his arms experimentally. "Do you feel any pain in any parts of
your body, specifically in your head or neck?"
Wash shook his head. "None that're too severe." He promised, looking away as
Emily recorded his reply into her computer. "Are we done yet? I'd like to scout
the camp and get a feel for it."
"Of course," Emily replied, smiling at Wash. "You were a... decent patient. Not
lollypop worthy, but you did better than Locus ever did." She started saving
her computer files. "I'll be seeing you back here soon enough, Wash. See ya
then!"
The blond almost asked about Locus's visit, but decided at the last minute that
it was better to just keep quiet. The faster he could be in his armor, the
better. The man hopped off the table, reclaiming his under-suit, when a knock
hit the door. Before anyone could answer, Locus walked in, stopping to stare at
Washington. The blond squirmed under the mercenary's gaze, unused to the
attention towards his body. Besides, he'd hardly ever been out of armor since
Project Freelancer, and just being in his under-suit was enough to make him
feel naked before Locus. The Freelancer soon gathered his bearings and started
to re-armor, ignoring Locus's still roaming eyes.
"Locus," Emily sounded both mad and stern, which made Wash almost chuckle at
the thought of such a young girl challenging a giant monster like Locus. "I
told you to wait for me to answer before you just barge in. You're lucky it
wasn't Doyle I was checking, he would've fainted! Again!" She crossed her arms,
glaring at the mercenary.
"My apologizes, doctor." Locus spoke with a certain touch of sincere apology in
his voice, giving Wash the impression that Emily had saved Locus's sorry ass
more than once before. "I'll try and remember that next time... the General
asked me to bring you this," He handed her a well-locked box, which Emily took
quickly and happily. "He seems... hesitant to give it to you."
"Oh, goody!" Emily's once stern demeanor changed just like that, her voice
going sweet and adorable once more. "My Grunt lungs are here! I've been wanting
to do a few experiments on these puppies for so long now... looks like I've got
something to do this weekend!" She nodded at Wash, seeing him fully armored.
"You can go now, Agent Washington. Sorry for the wait!"
"No problem." Wash mumbled back, holding his hands up, backing away towards the
door very slowly. Emily was acting a lot like Sarge when he got excited about
experiments... he wasn't about to find out if she got similar results as the
Red Team leader anytime soon. "I'll be on my way then," He decided, walking
past Locus, refusing the urge to shove past him or growl under his breath. "I'm
going to go check on Sarge and see if Lopez is outta repairs."
Even as Washington left, he could still fell Locus's eyes on his retreating
person, making him feel smaller and smaller with each, long, tedious step away
from the doctor's office.
...
"We're being separated!?"
Donut sounded, as Washington had expected, terrified and honestly betrayed. He
watched the pink soldier with a sad expression under his helmet, desperately
wishing it didn't have to go down this way. As it turns out, the Feds had bases
everywhere, well, almost everywhere, and they needed Donut, Sarge, and Lopez
elsewhere, while Washington was needed there. Wash sighed under his breath, not
loud enough for Donut to hear over his panicking, tangible enough for Lopez to
process, and sad enough for Sarge to give him a concerned tilt of his own
helmet. Wash patted Donut's shoulder awkwardly, like he had hugged Sarge that
morning, feeling out of place and unnecessary.
Locus was off to the side, watching the little interaction steadily, his gaze
focused mainly on Washington once more, making the grey and yellow soldier
uncomfortable as it had beforehand. When deeply thought upon, Wash had wished
he could also accompany the Reds, but in reality, he knew damn well knew that
he was needed wherever he could assist. Wash was... he wasn't dedicated, not in
the way he knew dedication. Dedication is working overtime at a fast-food
restaurant to afford your Nana's pills, dedication is signing up for a war your
father believed in at the age of sixteen, dedication is joining a project
you've never heard of just to make a difference, dedication is protecting the
Simulation Soldiers who protected you once.
Protecting the Federalists is not the dedication Washington knows, but it's...
something similar.
"Well, if you're all packed... may we be off?" Doyle sounded scared to
intervene, as Wash expected, but he could see the evidence of true dedication
on his face for the military. Doyle was out of armor, wearing a finely pressed
suit, having to leave for a conference in the same place the Reds were going
off to. "I hate to rush-" That much was obvious. "-But... we are on a very
tight schedule."
"Understood!" Sarge replied, sounding strangely accepting of the whole 'Working
for the Feds' deal they had going on. "We'll be ready in just a sec 'ere,
General." He turned to Donut, taking Wash's place in patting his back. "Come
on, son." He ordered softly, guiding him away from the Freelancer. "Let's get'a
goin'."
"*Sniff* Do we have to, Sarge?" Donut begged to know, hiccuping lightly into
his armored arm, hunched over as he looked up for confirmation to Sarge. When
his leader finally nodded, he looked to Wash, his fear apparent, even with his
armor on. "Bye, Wash." He mumbled, walking away.
"We'll be back sooner than ya think!" Sarge promised, nodding at Wash. As
usual, he was reading everyone like a book. "Keep my shotgun clean while 'm
gone, ya here?"
"Uh..." Doyle spoke up, fidgeting behind the Sargent. "I do believe you are
permitted to bring your, er, shotgun. However, I also believe that close-combat
weapons would n-" Without even hearing Doyle all the way through, Sarge was
long gone, off to get his shotgun. "At least we can expect him to, um, inspire
our soldiers?" He offered, slowly walking away. "Come along then, we must be on
our way!"
Donut followed along with Lopez, both giving Wash one last, long look. "I'll be
fine." Washington promised, waving at the two Reds, now turned three as Sarge
regrouped at record time. "You guys get those soldiers trained so we can get
our friends back sooner."
With that, Sarge, Donut, and Lopez were led out of the Federalist base, and
into a Warthog with Doyle. Wash sighed, before Locus loomed behind him, a heavy
hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "They will be fine, Agent." Locus
promised, but it almost sounded like a guarantee, like he could control their
protection somehow.
Wash brushed Locus off, glaring at the green and black mercenary. "I don't need
your comfort, Locus." He spat out, storming off, only to be stopped again by
the larger man.
"If you're ever in need of my... assistance-" Washington was smart enough to
catch what Locus was throwing at him. "Feel free to come visit me after hours."
Locus walked off after that, leaving Wash to drown in his worries.
...
To Be Continued...
A/N: Again, I'm fairly inexperienced with writing slash fanfictions, so please,
keep that in mind! Please R&R, and have a nice day!
~CabooseHeart.
***** Part 2: Assistance *****
Breathe, Soldier
Part 2: Assistance
Pairing: Locington (Locus/Agent Washington)
A/N: I got nothing but the story ahead! Please R&R!
...
The sound of the chilling rain flooded the Federal campsite, thick, icky swamp
raindrops falling like angels with broken wings to the ground, loud symphonies
of thunder signaling their downfall and deaths. A young man with blond, dirty
hair squinted his grey/blue eyes, the color matching closer to an American
Earth storm rather than a Chorus one. The being watched as the dirt beneath his
boots gave way to the mud, the dark sludge sticky and clumpy as it gathered
grass blades of a bluer color than should be natural. Thunderclaps echoed
through the nighttime air, making a long, painful shiver run up the young man's
spine, his teeth tightening in fear of chattering, not wanting to look weak.
The being this man feared to look weak in front of stood tall and well-armored
by his side, the dark grey and green making his camouflage virtually unneeded
as he watched the downpour beside his unlucky companion. The younger man, Agent
Washington, wanted to glare at the mercenary standing a head taller than him,
but held back, enjoying the chilling silence as long as he possibly could. The
Feds had kept him on the move for the last week or so, though he hardly
noticed, too busy at his attempts to train the troops assigned to him. They
were all fairly bright, but they lacked skill. They reminded Wash of himself
during Project Freelancer, of even before then, back when he was a kid.
He'd been a good kid, honest to God he had, but dammit, there were decisions
Washington wished he could forget, even now! He remembered a lot of things,
some useless, some very important. He remembered finding a stray tabby cat and
bringing her home at seven years old, he remembered that same cat dying three
years later. He remembered starting an argument with a bully at twelve, and he
remembered regretting it seven seconds afterwards. There were, indeed, many
things Washington remembered and had forgotten in turn, but the list of
forgotten things was much shorter than the things he recalled. Wash sighed, a
puff of greyish air escaping his mouth like cigarette smoke leaves a Poker
player's lungs.
"Reminiscing, Agent Washington?" Locus asked all too suddenly, making Wash
jump, if only slightly, enough for the huge mercenary to spot. "Something tells
me I am correct."
"It's none of your business..." Wash insisted, coughing weakly into the humid
air, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again. He hated humidity with
a burning passion... a wonder how he survived sixteen years living in Seattle.
"Why don't you go patrol? Pretty sure we'll be settling down for the night
soon."
"I would only hope so... these battles have been lasting longer." Locus
commented, looking upon the camp steadily, SAW loaded in his strong, armored
hands, fingers twitching occasionally. Not that anyone noticed.
"I wouldn't know." Wash replied, somewhat bitterly, somewhat thankfully.
Depended on what mood he was in when you asked. "I'm wondering when I'll be
sent off to the battlefield..."
"Not for a long time." Locus promised, helmet tilted towards Wash, studying his
extremely freckled face with a glint of curiosity on his domed helmet. "You
remind me of someone, Agent."
"Really now?" It was painfully clear that Washington wasn't interested in what
Locus was talking about, his eyes trained on where a rookie was showing a few
senior officers a knife trick. "That dumbass rookie, he's gonna chop his
fucking fingers off doing that."
"You seem to be quite interested in knives, Washington." Locus decided, and
Wash could almost feel that mercenary's fucking smirk. He wondered why Locus
would be happy about that. "Have you trained with them before?"
Instead of answering, Washington took off across the campsite, realizing that,
yeah, the rookie was totally gonna chop his fingers off in a few seconds if he
didn't intervene. Faster than the Flash, Wash was there, snatching the knife
expertly from the rookie's fingers, twisting it and making a show of tossing it
with a trained expertise. Finally, Washington grabbed it midair after tossing
it, slamming it millimeters from the rookie's other hand on the wooden crate
he'd been using as a table. The soldiers around them all stared, eyes wide as
Wash gave the poor rookie a stern glare. The rookie was Private Eastwood, a
poor kid around nineteen who'd been trying to impress the older recruits
seconds ago.
Wash snatched up the knife again, holding it gently by the blade, the handle
poised dangerously at Eastwood, condensation leaving big, fat, wet drops of
swampy rain on the dark mahogany of the handle. "You be damn careful with this
thing, kid." Wash ordered, grabbing Eastwood's hand and enclosing the handle in
his open palm. "You're gonna cut your fingers off if you use it like that."
Locus watched as Washington walked away, the other soldiers surrounding
Eastwood as soon as he was out of earshot, probably to either tease him or
gossip about the crazy ex-Freelancer. The same one who'd been performing kick-
flips on an old skateboard the day before. "You handled that well." Locus
commented, following Wash as the Freelancer continued off from the scene he'd
unintentionally made. "Maybe one of these days you'll show me how it's done,
David?"
Washington flinched so violently, if anyone but Locus had been watching, they
would've called a medic to check him out for injuries. It took a few minutes
for Washington to recover, but when he did, he looked more pale than usual,
irises big and filled with worry. "How do you know my name?" His voice was
dangerously steady, too steady to be sane. "How do you know my name, Locus?" He
repeated, more harsh, eyes squinting with the building of hot, magma-like
anger. The volcano would erupt if Locus wasn't careful.
"I've known who you are for some time, David," Locus explained, not afraid to
trigger Wash by the looks of it. "Or was it Davy that your grandmother called
you? I remember you... I remember you very well..." He walked away, removing
his helmet enough to show his midnight dark skin, a sly smirk only for Wash. "I
have a feeling I'll see you again tonight. Until then, good luck, David."
"Wait!" But Locus didn't look back, clicking back on his helmet, leaving
Washington in the soggy rain, the droplets dribbling like spoonfuls of
applesauce down the back of his armor.
The grey and yellow soldier stared, his hair a soaping wet mess clinging to his
head as the downpour beat upon the ground with a new intensity, signaling for
soldiers to get inside. And so they did. Wash stayed. He stayed there for a
long time, allowing condensation to form and dribble away like youth over his
armor, replanting into the ground to maybe bring new life, only for it to be
later destroyed by a new battle or war. The Freelancer soon fisted his piano-
built hands, storming off like the possible hurricane above his head, stomping
back to where he'd stood with Locus minutes ago, before that rookie had caused
him to step forward. He clicked his helmet back on.
Locus knew his name...
Washington walked away, his feet taking him away from the camp, towards where a
waterfall was said to be. He could use a shower, he mused, something to cleanse
the sick and anger away off of his skin. Anything to make him stop thinking,
stop worrying, stop fucking remembering.
Locus knew his name...
The Freelancer started stripping, removing his armor at record speed, mind
fishing for a connection, anyone Locus reminded him of from his past. He knew
he had the answer. His pointless musing was becoming an excuse to spite it, and
maybe find another answer to replace the truth. Washington drowned his thoughts
then in swamp water, ignoring the terrible feeling of slime and barely any
water slipping over his naked body. He drowned himself in the darkness as he
closed his eyes, fingers scrubbing through the suicide blond on his head,
trying to scrub away too many lies and truths at once. It continued to rain
even after Wash scrambled to shore, ducking under a tree to try and dry off.
Locus knew his name...
...
Not even three hours later, Locus woke up to the sound of teeth chattering.
Smirking a bit, Locus flicked on his old fashioned oil lantern, spying the
soaping wet bundle huddled at the corner of his tent. Poor Wash, he looked like
a stray kitten who'd just crawled out of a river, his siblings not surviving
the swim, or the other Freelancers in Washington's case. The mercenary sat up,
beckoning Wash over, who, against his better judgement, immediately crawled
under the blankets to press up against Locus's warm and pleasing form. Closing
his eyes for just a moment, Wash buried his face in Locus's grey T-shirt.
Suddenly realizing what was going on, Wash tried to jump back, but Locus's
steady arms were already around him, keeping him nice and close to his chest.
"Let me go!" Wash demanded, but he still seemed hesitant to leave the warmth of
Locus's cot.
"I don't think I will." Locus decided, petting Wash's ruffled up blond hair
tenderly, the locks all damp and unbrushed. "Though, I do think you know
exactly who I am... or who you at the very least think I am."
"Rufus-" Wash mumbled, his voice muffled as he went back to resting heavily
against Locus. "-You left me that night, ya know."
"Your grandmother would have caught us, David." Locus explained, though he
didn't sound very sorry. "Besides, I hardly even knew you back then... you
hired me to take your virginity, and I did. It was supposed to end there."
"Then why didn't it?" Washington finally asked, the question being one he'd
been fearing and contemplating over the last few hours. "Why didn't you just
move on or forget about me, why didn't you just fuck some other guy?"
Locus suddenly had Wash pinned, making the blond gulp, so many flashes of
memories. Skin on skin, a lot of sweating, a lot of hushing on Rufus's end, a
lot of whining and bucking too. In response, Locus had their mouths meet,
tongue pressing into the much younger man's mouth greedily as he took what he'd
always seen as his. "My name was never Rufus." Locus mumbled out in-between a
kiss, stealing another before returning to his chattering. "It was Luke... and
then it was Locus."
"Which one are you right now?" Wash asked, also in-between a kiss, breathing
becoming ragged as that boner from about a week ago decided to say, hey, the
guy kissing you should know I fucking exist.
"I don't have a personality disorder, David." Locus promised, biting Wash's lip
as punishment for the insult on his name. "I couldn't just run around as a
prostitute with my real name, now could I? No, I only used Rufus for you...
other lovers knew me by different names. Yet, somehow... I always went back to
think of you, the shuddering virgin who didn't even know he needed lube."
"I was sixteen." Wash reminded the darker man, attempting to snap a nip at
Locus's lips, only for Locus to pull back, making his not even half-hard cock
weep. "I wasn't exactly an expert on sex ed."
"You will be when I'm finished with you." Locus assured him, sitting up as he
started yanking Wash's clothes off, glad the younger had only come in an old T-
shirt and some boxers that had to have been owned by one of the recruits.
Washington complied without complaint, making quick work of getting Locus's
boxers and shirt off, until the two were completely naked before each other.
Nothing had changed since he was sixteen, besides maybe a surplus of scars, a
lot more history, a neural network of a suicidal AI's remains in the back of
his skull, too many scars to pinpoint and mention, a larger vocabulary, and a
bigger difference in height than before. The natural blond felt a familiar
smile creep onto his face, one he hadn't felt in a very long time, not since
he'd last seen Tucker and the others. All of that washed away, however, as
Locus suddenly handcuffed Wash's wrists to a part of the lousy bed-frame
keeping the cot off the wet, dirty, mud-ridden ground.
"The fuck are you doing?" Wash rasped, wheezing slightly in the darkness as the
light started to fade, eyes glazed over with pleasure and lust fueling his
veins and brain.
"Only what you want me to do," Locus told the younger man, his face unable to
be seen from the angle the lantern was at, making Wash squint, yet secretly
thank whatever God was out there for sparing him from direct eye-contact with
the mercenary. He'd never liked eye-contact, nor bondage.
"I don't want this." Wash assured Locus, struggling until Locus finally undid
the handcuffs, allowing the well-muscled blond to sit up, pressing light
butterfly kisses to his chest as he worked his way up, a devilish light in his
stormy eyes. "I just... I want it simple, alright?"
"If that works." It was very clear that Locus had preferred the bondage route,
but dammit all, if Washington wasn't going to accept that... well, fuck, he'd
find a way sooner or later.
...
The next morning, Washington woke up in a haze, squinting before he sat up,
feeling sticky and gross before it all came back in a heated flash. Locus's
hands on his hips, the loud smacking sound of Locus's shaft going in and out of
his ass, the stings of hickeys on his neck, and the shivers of an unexpected
and almost terrifying orgasm... he got up at once. Breathing hard, Wash began
to get dressed, jerking suddenly as Locus clapped a hand onto his thigh, making
him swallow hard and slow, feeling both comforted and intimidated by the
mercenary's presence and touch. The blond shivered, feeling Locus starting to
sit up beside him, his tongue poking and prodding at his freckled skin, up his
back, and tracing over his exposed neck.
"Leaving so soon?" Locus inquired, that smirk still in his voice, low and quiet
and threatening, yet so soft that Wash wanted to melt. "I believe last night
was a mere warm-up."
"We have training." Wash reminded the mercenary, feeling his arousal starting
to come to life, but knew damn well that he needed to smother it before he got
caught with Locus or got up late. "And we could get caught..."
"We could have very well gotten caught last night, yet we were not. Besides...
we have time." Locus promised, looking ready for Wash's okay, ready to pin the
suicide blond in a heartbeat. "Interested, David?"
"Later." Washington promised, standing up and forcing his boxers on, but not
without a tiny hiss to add to it. "Fuck..."
"In need of my assistance again, Agent Washington?" Locus inquired, looking all
too smug as Wash glared at him, a childish pout on his lover's surprisingly
young face. He silently wondered how a man Washington's age looked so young,
despite all he'd seen and been through.
"I'll be fine." Wash promised, coughing into a closed fist as he adjusted his
boxers, knowing damn well that his boner still showed. He'd be the talk of the
town by noon. "Can I... borrow some pants though?"
Locus nodded, going through a duffel-bag by his cot, tossing a pair of pants
and a belt at the young man. "Hey, Locus?" Wash spoke up, after getting the
very large sized pants on, rolling up the legs a bit and tugging the belt on
extremely tight. "Can I ask you something?"
The mercenary peered up at Wash, brushing his dreadlocks out of his eyes as he
started clasping on his armor, not daring to dress in anything less for
training/patrol. "What do you need, David?"
"Can you... not tell anyone about... whatever it is we're doing?" Wash asked,
well, more like begged really, but the insistence was there either way. "I'd
much rather keep whatever funny business we get into between each other, if you
don't mind."
"But of course." Locus agreed, his helmet clicking right back on, that damned
voice filter making him sound more alien and less human. "I also would prefer
to keep this a well guarded secret."
"Perfect." Wash clapped his hands together, nodding as he started to go for the
tent-flap, now fully dressed, but squeaked as Locus suddenly squeezed his ass.
"Hey!" He protested, jumping before rubbing at his violated bottom.
Locus only chuckled, leaving the tent before Washington, who gave the inside of
the tent one final look, smiling fondly as the memories from last night.
Feeling something wet press against his belly, Wash sighed, limping
unceremoniously away from the tent. He could only hope his subordinates
wouldn't notice...
...
FIN
A/N: Sorry that I'm so vanilla with my slash writing, I'm still trying to get
the hang of it! In the meantime, I'll work on getting more work done. Please
R&R, I'd really appreciate it!
~CabooseHeart.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!