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+M through R › Metal Gear
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,389
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Metal Gear
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,389
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Metal Gear, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Konami.
--
There was no asking for this.
There was no civility here, no polite mincing of clichéd phrases with which to mask his need; it was simply taken on face value, understood for what it was. His unspoken pleas were met without second thought by a mouth that knew far better than his own and hot hands that burn through the years and the scars to find the bitter reality that still lived underneath.
He didn’t need to think about this; it just was.
Something inside him pulls, frame unraveling thread by thread beneath the pry of practised fingertips, pulling at the clasps of his Skull Suit with an indifference he’s comes to know far too well. Press of concrete is cold at his back and thick hands hoist him up by the waist, his thighs pulled open around angled hips as his skull slides back to rest against the wall behind him, staring up into the murk of a ceiling obscured by the play of shadows and fragmented light.
It was ugly, but it was real.
Words only served to complicate. They tangled in the hot clutch of his throat to make things harder than they already had to be, choking him with his own paling half-confessions. There were no words for this, this ache; no need for formalities – it was just understood. His cock jumps beneath familiar heat, pearled and weeping in welcoming hands; there’s nothing tender in the fingers that dig into his hips, and he sighs, if only for himself, as a hungry mouth takes the opportunity to snare his open lips, plunging a hot tongue passed their protection into the warm depths of his cheek and throat.
He just needed to know that he was still real.
If Rose could’ve understood that, he wouldn’t have had to ask Snake.
--
There was no asking for this.
There was no civility here, no polite mincing of clichéd phrases with which to mask his need; it was simply taken on face value, understood for what it was. His unspoken pleas were met without second thought by a mouth that knew far better than his own and hot hands that burn through the years and the scars to find the bitter reality that still lived underneath.
He didn’t need to think about this; it just was.
Something inside him pulls, frame unraveling thread by thread beneath the pry of practised fingertips, pulling at the clasps of his Skull Suit with an indifference he’s comes to know far too well. Press of concrete is cold at his back and thick hands hoist him up by the waist, his thighs pulled open around angled hips as his skull slides back to rest against the wall behind him, staring up into the murk of a ceiling obscured by the play of shadows and fragmented light.
It was ugly, but it was real.
Words only served to complicate. They tangled in the hot clutch of his throat to make things harder than they already had to be, choking him with his own paling half-confessions. There were no words for this, this ache; no need for formalities – it was just understood. His cock jumps beneath familiar heat, pearled and weeping in welcoming hands; there’s nothing tender in the fingers that dig into his hips, and he sighs, if only for himself, as a hungry mouth takes the opportunity to snare his open lips, plunging a hot tongue passed their protection into the warm depths of his cheek and throat.
He just needed to know that he was still real.
If Rose could’ve understood that, he wouldn’t have had to ask Snake.