Shiver

"Why me..." sighed Grif trying to concentrate on the path ahead, while the maroon soldier sitting next to him talked incessantly about various chores Grif 'should' have done while back at base.

"The storage closet needs to be reorganized once again since you demolished it looking for the Oreos you claimed we had hidden on you," Simmons continued every word grating on Grifs already frayed nerves.

After several minutes of continued ‘you should’, ‘Sarge says’ chatter from the kissass Grif couldn't take it anymore. "God damnit Simmons. Shut. Up. I know Sarge sent me on this mission with you as punishment but give me a break man, you've been riding my ass about this shit for hours. Just. Shut. Up. I am half temped to drive the Warthog off a cliff if I have to keep listening to it. Just let me drive." Grif growled out at his now silent teammate. He knew Sarge had probably given Simmons some sort of order to make sure Grif was involved in a horrific accident on the way to the location of the distress beacon they were now driving towards. But Grif didn’t care, he was will to almost do anything to get out of the base for a little while even if it meant risking his life. Base life has become stale, he longed for the beaches and mountains of home. Donuts constant fluttering about redecorating and Sarges’ death wish for him were really starting to ware on his nerves. He found himself on the roof of the base a lot recently, sitting alone, reminiscing about home. The positive side of this mission at least it was Simmons with him, of all his team members he was probably the one he has the best albeit hostile relationship with. He could at least tolerate the kissasses presence when he was quiet… like now. He glanced in Simmons direction. The maroon soldier was staring out the passenger side of the vehicle watching the desert landscape pass.

“Simmons…,” Grif started aiming to ask him about his home, his life anything but blood gulch or work.

“What?” Simmons replied irritation lacing his voice.
Grif tried to reply, questions sticking in his throat, mouth open poised to give them voice, before signing and replying, “How much farther to the distress beacon.”

_______________________


The storm came upon them so fast. They had seen very few storms in there time at blood gulch, all of which had been when they were in the base. Donut had insisted that they all sit on the couch together then proceeded to shriek like a girl and hide under the blankets every time thunder rang out across the canyon. One time Donut had even tried to crawl into Simmons’ bed in the middle of the night during one of the storms, Simmons had promptly tossed him from his room.

This time the thick grey clouds loomed ominously overhead before the sky opened and the downpour started. After a mile or two of barely being able to see through the windshield the two marines decided to pull over and setup camp for the night.

Distant thunder could be heard as they tried several times to setup the tent, even Grifs' laziness was forgotten in the attempt to set the tent up quickly as possible to get out of the downpour. Eventually they did get the tent setup, small as it may have been, hauled their supplies inside for the night and the now soaked soldiers crawled inside.

The orange soldier began to remove his now sodden armor and body suit hoping to wrap himself in the dry blankets. Much to Simmons’ horror he realized Grif had picked today of all days to go commando.

“Grif!” Simmons voice came out slightly higher that he intended, “What the hell, where are your boxers?”

“I needed to do laundry, and if I wait long enough Donut gets sick of looking at it and does it for me. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Grif replied, mentally noting how color coding of clothes really helped sort out whose laundry was whose, and wrapped the blanket around himself.

Simmons battled the blush trying to fight its way onto his face, and he faced away from the other soldier and began to dismantle his equally drenched armor. He glanced back at the maroon soldier briefly noting that he had now laid down in the tent facing away from him. Simmons unzipped his body suit and stepped out of it leaving on only his maroon colored boxers, and quickly slipped under the blanket beside his teammate.

He laid there a while trying to sleep but the image of his damp, naked bedmate kept plaguing him every time he shut his eyes. Grif really didn’t look much like he had imagined him to. He expected him to be chubby considering how his diet consisted of mostly sugary snacks, but he wasn’t. Sure his teammate didn’t have the defined muscle tone that Simmons sported but Grifs' tan frame mixed with Simmons’ own pale skinned body parts intrigued him. He had never seen the finished product of Sarges’ work. He fought down his blush again and tried to fall asleep.

Several minutes later a sound caught his attention. The orange soldier’s teeth were chattering. Unaware of why, Simmons himself did not feel cold at all, he consulted his onboard temperature gauge. The gauge for external temperature had dropped significantly and after some poking around Simmons found another feature of his new body. His temperature was now regulated to an exact 98.6 degrees. Apparently Sarge had found it necessary to program his body to regulate a consistent temperature, for whatever reason it was unknown to Simmons. After several more minutes of listening to Grifs' chattering teeth and watching his body racking shivers he decided that if he was going to get any sleep he would have to stop worrying about his teammate.

“Grif… are you still awake,” Simmons whispered.

“Of course I am dumbass it’s fucking cold out here,” Grif managed though chatters.

Sighing Simmons moved closer so that he was spooning Grifs' back. ‘No not spooning,’ Simmons thought, ‘nothing like that. I am just going to keep him from getting sick and let me sleep’ he forced himself to think. He wrapped an arm around Grifs' waist.

“Oh hell NO!” Grif struggled, “There is no way in hell I am cuddling with you!”

A fresh blush flooded Simmons’ face, “We are not CUDDLING jackass.”

Grifs' struggled with renewed strength, “This sure as hell feels like cuddling to me,” Grif snarled.
The maroons arm tighten around the oranges waist, “Shut up, you’re freezing cold and if I have to listen to your teeth chattering all night I am never going to sleep.”

Grif struggles slowed as the heat from Simmons’ front seeped into his back, shivers still racking his body. Less from the cold now and more from… something he didn’t want to think about.

“Fine, but you better never ever tell anyone about this.” Grif mumbled. They settled down to sleep as Grifs' body trembled less.

“Grif…”

“What?”

“If you turn around I will kill you.”
_____________________________________________________


Grif awoke slowly, movement pulling him from his dreamless slumber. First thing he registered was that he was warm, very warm and comfortable. He could feel warm puffs of air exhaled onto his shoulder and feather light touches on his side. Wondering what kind of awesome dream he was having he turned his head and looked over… at Simmons.

Stamping down a feeling of panic he was propelled into a fully awake state. ‘Simmons… wha…’ Grif's brain struggled to understand. Then everything from the previous night came back to him. Simmons wanting to ‘keep him warm’ - or so he said - was the last thing running through his head.

He took in his current situation: Simmons was curled around him, his arm draped across the orange soldier's stomach, fingers brushing lightly against his side subconsciously. The maroon’s leg was thrown over Grif's preventing any sort of escape he may have considered. Then he felt the movement again that had roused him from his slumber.

Simmons was moving.

Wait… not just moving… thrusting. ‘THRUSTING!,’ Grifs mind yelped.

Yes. Simmons, kissass extraordinaire, was periodically thrusting lightly against his hip. Grif bit his lip to suppress the moan trying to escape as all the information rushed into his head and shot straight towards his groin.

He couldn’t even begin to understand why it was affecting him in such a way. Maybe because he had been out in the canyon too damn long without the touch of another, or perhaps the fact that his quick glance at his bedmate had revealed him to be rather attractive even for a guy? He didn’t know, but he was very aware of the fact that Simmons was going to fucking kill him when he woke up.

He chanced another look at the sleeping soldier. Strawberry hair hung over his eyes obscuring parts of his face relaxed in sleep. Pink lips slightly open exhaling the warm air onto his skin. 'He really is nice to look at,' mused Grif, feeling the hard planes of Simmons chest rise and fall against the oranges arm with his breathing.

Thrust… ‘Oh god,’ Grifs mind moaned at him, ‘Simmons is hard’.

Yes he was definitely going to be killed by the other soldier.

Grif slowly raised his free hand and ran his fingers lightly across the warm metal of the others arm, marveling at the feel of it under his fingertips.‘When in Rome, right?’ Grif's mind justified, ‘Can’t get any deader’. He ran his hands from Simmons' bicep to the back of his hand. Thrust. Grif was loosing his mind. He was so hard it hurt and past the point of caring that Simmons was going to kill him.

“Simmons…” Grif whispered then paused, listening to Simmons' breathing to see if he showed any signs of awakening. “Simmons, wake up,” he continued a little louder. The maroon one shifted and let out a low groan, thrusting against him once again. “Simmons,” Grif nearly whimpered, trying again to get his attention. Another slight shift and Grif felt the metallic hand grip his side tightly. His mouth opened in a gasp, but before he could utter a sound he was roughly pulled on top Simmons.

This was NOT GOOD. ‘Fuck,’ Grif's mind screamed at him. He was now straddling his bedmate's hips, his chest pressed tightly against the warm skin and metal of the other. His mind reeled at the contact of his cock against Simmons' equally hard member, separated only by the thin fabric of maroon boxer shorts. He groaned deep in his throat, face inches from the still slumbering marine's. Warm air from the inviting pink lips of the other ghosted over his face. Arms were around him, one metal one flesh pressing him tightly to the soldier. His brain was having problems keeping up with the riot of sensations plaguing his now burning body.

“Simmooooons,” groaned Grif, trying to form words. One of the hands on his back snaked up into his hair and pulled him down into a hard kiss. Grif gave in -could he really be blamed? - when he felt a warm tongue brush against his lower lip and decided that he would think about it later. Surrendering to the kiss he opened his mouth and let Simmons' slick tongue invade him, and run itself over his own. Grif was quickly breathless and after several half hearted attempts to pull away managed to break the kiss long enough to pull a shaky breath into his now screaming lungs. That’s when Simmons' eyes opened; well not so much opened but squinted and peered at him blearily as a frown creased his forehead.

“Grif?” the maroon questioned, sleep still lacing his voice. The orange marine just stared at the other soldier, his newly claimed air refusing to leave his lungs. “What are you doing?”

“ME?! This was entirely your fault!,” Grifs words rushed out with the breath he had been holding. He watched as Simmons paused, taking in his current situation: one hand in Grif's hair, the other wrapped tightly around his waist. His legs were… color only a few shades lighter than his armor flooded the marine's face. Grif felt the other's hardness twitch under his thighs and emitted a groan that he quickly muffled into Simmons' smooth shoulder.

“Grif I…” Simmons started and was abruptly cut short when Grif pressed wet sucking kisses to his neck. The maroon’s eyes closed and he bit his lip to suppress a moan trying to escape his suddenly dry lips.

Grif kissed a trail up to his still flesh ear and ran his tongue up the shell before biting lightly. Simmons failed to stifle his groan this time and emphasized it by thrusting his hips upward lightly. A sound that could only be described as a growl issued from Grif's hungry mouth. Gathering what little sense he had left, Simmons brought his hands to the other marine’s shoulders and pushed him gently away.

“Grif, No,” Simmons voiced in a slightly lust deepened tone. The orange soldier ran his hands down the forearms of his partner, gripped his wrists and roughly pulled the hands away, holding them on either side of Simmons head.

“You’re a prick,” Grif glared down at his reluctant partner.

“What? Why?”

“Because you started this. I even tried to stop you. It’s not like you to quit something you started halfway through. And it’s apparent,” Grif rolled his hips for emphasis and grinned when he elicited another moan from Simmons, “ that you are not as opposed to this as you claim.”

Simmons blushed brightly and turned his head to the side avoiding eye contact. “Grif I… I’ve never…” Simmons tried quietly.

Grif forgot how to breathe. Was that true? Had Simmons really never been with anyone before? Grif felt himself harden even more at the thought that he would be the first to hear his moans of pleasure. Grif leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his partner’s temple then continued to trail kisses along his jaw as the marine slowly turned his head back towards Grif. His path ended at Simmons mouth where he placed a final chaste kiss on his lips.

“Please.” Grif let the word linger in the air between them. Several seconds passed with them looking into each others eyes, Grif's pleading, Simmons' fraught with uncertainty before slowly slipping closed and leaning up to press his lips against Grif's.

The orange private moved his hands from Simmons' wrists to intertwine with his fingers as he deepened the kiss. His skillful tongue moved against Simmons’ own slippery heat, in a battle of which Grif was quickly gaining the upper hand.

Breaking the kiss Grif trailed his mouth down the maroon’s neck, placing kisses at random intervals before stopping to bite lightly on his collarbone. Sliding lower, hands now propping him up at Simmons' sides, he bent and placed a slow lick over the taught plane of Simmons' pectoral, pausing at the faint pink nipple. Taking it gently between his teeth he bit lightly, eyes focusing once again on the face above him.

“Ahh…nnnnn…” Simmons panted in pleasure, head thrown back, eyes tightly closed. With a grin spreading across his face Grif repeated the action a few more times before dropping lower still, kissing his way down the soldier's body before pausing above the waistband of the other's boxers, his hands now brushing lightly against maroon clad hips. When the hawaiian's thumbs hooked the waistband and began to drag them down, he felt the marine under him tense. Looking up he saw Simmons looking at him, brow creased worriedly but eyes hooded with lust.

“Relax.” Grif whispered and continued slowly revealing the others body, placing warm kisses on the newly exposed skin of his stomach. Sitting back he finished pulling the material from the muscular legs. Looking down at the body beneath him, Grif was stunned. Simmons was gorgeous. His pale skin connected to the hard metal cyborg parts in smooth lines making Grif feel somewhat self conscious in comparison; his tan skin and Simmons' creamy white were connected roughly with thick scars. Sarge had really put a lot of work into making the cyborg as flawless as possible.

“Grif, what are you staring at?” Simmons questioned, worry creeping into his now tight throat.

Grif realized his gaze must have lingered on the other a little too long., “Just admiring Sarge’s work, kissass.”

“Grif.” He sounded irritated again.

Smiling his customary smirk Grif replied, “He did an amazing job, you’re flawless.”

Bending down he swore he heard Simmons mutter a low ‘Thanks’ before he pressed a kiss to a creamy thigh.

Simmons rested his head back and relaxed under Grifs persistent mouth. Trailing kisses up Simmon's thigh towards his hip Grif regarded his partner’s length. It was thicker than his own, but slightly shorter curving slightly towards his stomach. He rubbed his hands tenderly along the pale thighs, moving to poise himself over the slightly weeping head. Gripping the alabaster hips he ran his tongue over the slit, and he heard rather than felt the rapid intake of breath of the maroon soldier.

Encouraged he ran his tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the top, mouthing the head lightly. “Nnnnnnh… Grif please,” Simmons moaned.

“Please what?” he replied, swirling his tongue around the aroused soldier's tip evoking another gasping moan from his partner.

“Please mooore,” came Simmons' panting reply. Thoroughly enjoying his new found power over his usually controlled partner, Grif smiled. He gripped the base of the swollen rod, experimentally pumping it before slipping down the length. He bobbed tentatively, listening to Simmons' delighted gasp, until he fell into a steady rhythm. Simmons' pleasured moans and mewls flooded the tent, teasing the orange soldier's ears. On one particularly slow pass, Grif slid up the shaft and swirled his tongue over the bulbous head before dragging his teeth softly over the cleft at the apex.

“Ahhhh… nnnn… Dex I’m going to…” Grif's eyes met Simmons' as he hummed his approval at the use of his first name and pressed down taking the entirety of Simmons deep in his throat. “Nuaahhhh!” Simmons cried as his climax crashed over him, hands seeking purchase where ever he could find it. Grif struggled to keep the paler man's hips on the ground as they fought to push their way deeper into the fiery mouth above, his arousal twitching at Simmons panting moans, begging for release itself.

Simmons' deposit ran from the soldier’s mouth and spilt over his hand as he slowly pulled himself from the panting marine, watching his body tremble as it relaxed into the afterglow. Grif wiped his mouth on the back of his still clean hand and pulled himself up beside his calming teammate, trailing his fingers over the contours of his solid stomach. Pressing a tender kiss to his a shoulder, Grif pushed his liberally leaking cock against him, the insistent strain growing painful. Turning his head, Simmons' lips captured Grif's own, the maroon's arms moving to run his hands over the damp back of his partner. The kiss quickly turned into a heated frenzy of clashing tongues, before Grif groaned breaking them apart, resting this forehead against the others.

“Dick, can I…” he trailed off and felt Simmons' barely perceptible nod. He pressed their lips together again hand still running over the rock hard abs of his partner. Shifting downward he attacked the rosy nipple of his highly sensitized partner earning him a sharp hiss. Eager fingers trailed down and collected some of the rapidly cooling seed on his fingertips before continuing their journey lower.

Placing light bites and sloppy kisses on his partner's torso, he brushed his slick fingers against the hidden portal. A shudder travelled through the larger marine at the gentle touch. Grif slipped a finger inside and moaned at the tight heat that gripped him. Simmons found his flaccid length stirring again under the hawaiian's attentions. A second wet finger moved to join its brother already moving in a gradually increasing rhythm inside the receptive soldier. His legs spread noticeably wider as the fingers began scissoring him drawing grunts of mixed pain and pleasure.

Disengaging himself from his partner, Grif gave several strong pulls to the half-erect member of his teammate before coating his hand in the creamy offering and running the hand over his painful erection. Biting his lip at the slick friction he moved between the others legs, positioning himself at Simmons' entrance. Looking up at his partners face for any sign of refusal Grif pressed forward, head slipping in with little difficulty. Simmons' immediate grip on his tormented cock caused Grif to grab hold of his partner’s hips with bruising intensity.

“Nnn,” Grif panted, trying to repress the agonized growl attempting to make itself known, “you have to relax.”

Grifs' hands released their hold as the maroon marine adjusted to the strange feeling of being entered. Caressing a pale thigh he moved his other hand to the firm length in front of him. Fondling him, he moved to press in slowly registering grunts and groans from the prone soldier beneath him. Whether they were of pain or pleasure Grif didn’t know but Simmons hadn’t asked him to stop, so he continued until he was fully seated deep in his lover.

Panting with exertion of control, he paused giving his partner time to adjust to his pulsing member. When Simmons wrapped his muscular legs around Grif he took it as assent to continue. Moving his hands to the hips in front of him, Grif started up a tortuously slow rhythm. “Unnnng!” Simmons gasped when his bedmate brushed something deep inside him. Grif looked up, eyes clouded with pleasure, concerned by the sound but unable to determine if it was made in pain or pleasure.

Deciding it was definitely in pleasure as his teammates head was thrown back and his body undulated beneath him, Grif moaned as the others opening tightened around him and aimed for the spot again. Quickly he had Simmons writhing beneath him.

Unable control himself much longer, he unhooked the legs from behind his back and pressed them forward opening the maroon soldier further to his slightly frenzied strokes. Groaning and quickly loosing control he gripped the reawakened length in one hand, pumping him in time with his thrusts. Simmons' and Grif's whimpers and moans filled the confined space with every plunge.

“I can’t… much longer…” the orange private warned, breathing erratically trying to keep a steady pace. Locking lust glazed eyes with this thrusting partner Simmons let out a pleasured wail before evidence of his satisfaction split over Grifs still pumping hand. The dominant marine let out a choked gasp before thrusting irregularly into Simmons' taut body. Letting loose a deafening growl he spurt his offering deep inside, collapsing in a blissful puddle on top of his worn out partner.

They laid there for a moment attempting to catch their breath after the intensity of their desire. ‘That was…” Grif started, having to pant to catch his breath, “fucking… amazing”.

“Damn man, we only went like 15 minutes. You are really out of shape.” Simmons commented.

“Fuck…” pant, “You…”

Simmons smiled and ran his hands through the brown hair of his partner. Some things would never change.