dunmurderin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dunmurderin) wrote2007-06-30 08:56 pm
dunmurderin) wrote2007-06-30 08:56 pm
Entry tags:
Fic -- Shower Scene (GI Joe/DIC)
Title: Shower Scene
Fandom: GI Joe (Specifically the DIC era cartoon)
Characters: Metal-Head/Gnawgahyde
Prompt: N/A
Word Count: 5.470 words
Rating: NC-17/Slash
Summary: After a training mission in the jungle, Gnawgahyde attempts to shut Metal-Head up.
Author's Notes: Because I'm updating my Big List O'Fics and am trying to be a completist, I'm reposting this here so I have a better link to the fic for the list. That and this way I don't have to go through and htmlize this sucker.
This was the first ever slash fic I ever wrote and one of the first fanfics I ever wrote for public consumption. It's about seven years old. And it's simultaneously one of my favorites and one of the ones I'm still kind of shy about (the look on Swindle's face in the icon? Pretty much sums up how I feel). I'll stop blathering here and let you get on to reading the original blather that preceeded the story (under the first cut). Or you can skip to the second cut and avoid my authorial insecurities.
# # #
Explanation/Justification: The idea of a Metal-Head/Gnawgahyde slash fic started off as a joke of sorts, something I could pull out to scare people with. Like poo on a stick, only textual. And then I went and started mulling the idea around halfway seriously and it kept simmering and simmering and wouldn't leave me alone and then the perfect setup came to mind and well, here it is.
I had a few goals in mind when I set out to do this fic. These were basically: a slash fic that featured two guys who weren’t the traditional pretty boys, that featured male homosexuals who were more masculine than feminine, and that featured sex that wasn’t a feminine ideal of male sexual behavior. Basically, I wanted to write about gay men who were primarily MEN, not women with penises.
I’d like to think I succeeded. I HOPE that I’ve succeeded and that you are entertained by this fic. But even if you’re not, this one’s gonna be memorable… I hope you enjoy. This is my first attempt at a slash fic and my first attempt at any sort of adult-themed fic for public consumption. When you speak of this, and I know you will, be gentle.
Special thanks to Slayne22, cadet and my roommate Amy for beta-reading duties.
# # #
Shower Scene
“Oh man,” Metal-Head said as they broke through the jungle cover and into the Cobra base camp, heading for the underground base. “I am gonna sleep for a week. No, a month!”
“First things first,” Gnawgahyde said, grabbing the back of Metal-Head’s uniform as the doors to the underground base opened. “First, we got kit to clean.”
“Kit? Talk English already, geeze…”
“Gear.” Gnawgahyde growled the word out. He’d thought this job would have been a piece of cake. Destro wanted his new tank killer taught something about jungle survival. It should have been a case of take the new guy out, show him a few ropes and get in some hunting on Steel Face’s dime.
He should have known something was up by the way Destro hadn’t tried to haggle his initial price down. But no, he’d allowed himself to be blinded by the zeros and the penalty had been two weeks in the jungle with a guy who could wear out a hyperactive six year old.
Gnawgahyde grumbled as he dragged Metal-Head along with him. It was amazing that Destro trusted the man with high explosives. He was a trainwreck on legs. He’d stomped through jungle, leaving a huge swath behind him that Helen Keller could have followed. Animals ran before him, even ones that had never seen humans before fled in terror of Metal-Head’s approach. He got distracted by moving objects, everything from insects to leaves. He talked incessantly and when he wasn’t talking, he was singing, which was worse since he only knew half of every song he’d sing. Gnawgahyde seriously doubted half of what he’d tried to teach the idiot had sunk in.
“Where we going?” Metal-Head asked as he stumbled along beside Gnawgahyde. “C’mon man, leggo!”
“We’re goin’ to the armory,” Gnawgahyde said. “Dropping off our weapons and then we’re heading to the showers to clean our gear.”
“Man, can’t we do that later?” Metal-Head’s whine reminded Gnawgahyde of hyenas chattering in the night. He felt his right eyebrow twitch at the memory. Can’t shoot him, don’t have the cash yet, he reminded himself. Get money, then shoot him.
“No, we cannot do it later,” Gnawgahyde said. “We do it now because you are by God going to learn something from this, you stupid Seppo, or I’m going to throttle you with my bare hands, d’you understand?”
Metal-Head stared at him for a moment and Gnawgahyde had to resist the urge to deck him there. If anything was worse than the constant chatter it was the all-too-bloody frequent pauses for Metal-Head’s brain to catch up with his ears.
Gnawgahyde gave him a shake. It worked with his radio sometimes. “D’you understand?” he growled.
“Yeah, yeah,” Metal-Head said. “Got it, s’cool. Chill out already…”
Gnawgahyde released Metal-Head and stomped off toward the armory with another angry growl.
“Why’d you gotta be such a dickhead anyway?” Metal-Head asked as he followed behind Gnawgahyde. “I mean, what crawled up your ass an’ died?”
“Shut it,” Gnawgahyde said, pushing open the doors to the armory. “Had enough of listening to you yammer on when we were out there, do me the favor of putting a lid on it now that we’re back in camp, alright?”
“Fine!” Metal-Head said, walking over to one of the Vipers. ‘No problemo. Here.” The last was to the Viper manning the checkout counter. Metal-Head stacked a pistol and an assault rifle on the counter before moving to shrug his way out of his missle-rig. “Not like I wanted to go out there in the first damn place. Was all Destro’s stupid idea.”
Gnawgahyde grunted. “You got that right,” he said, setting his own weapons on the counter. He glared at the Viper-Clerk. “Leave those, I’ll be back to clean ‘em myself soon as I get done showing the monkey a couple more tricks.”
“Quit callin’ me a monkey!” Metal-Head slammed his fist down on the counter. “You been callin’ me that for the last two weeks an’ I’m fuckin’ sick of it!”
“Yeah?” Gnawgahyde said with a grin. “An’ what the hell are you gonna do about it, Monkey?”
Gnawgahyde knew the punch was coming long before he even saw Metal-Head’s fist come flying at him. The other man was used to fighting tanks, not people. Bringing a hand up, he grabbed the other man’s fist in mid-air, his larger hand swallowing it and bringing Metal-Head up short. Meanwhile, he made a fist of his own with his other hand and brought it around to slam Metal-Head in the face. The sensation of Metal-Head’s head snapping back and the smaller man staggering backwards almost made up for having had to spend two weeks listening to the chorus from Queen’s “We Will Rock You” sung in an obnoxious, droning falsetto. Almost.
“C’mon, mate,” Gnawgahyde said, dragging the still-stunned Metal-Head after him.
# # #
“Don’t bother undressing yet,” Gnawgahyde said, once they’d gotten to the showers. “Just toss your stuff into the shower an’ start scrubbing it down.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Metal-Head said, though Gnawgahyde noticed that he headed off to do what he was told. Should have hit him days ago...
Gnawgahyde found a shower stall of his own and set about cleaning his gear. The one advantage to working for Destro, and by extent Cobra, was at least this place had hot water and plenty of it. Ice-cold streams were all well and good, but there was nothing like a good hot shower to really get the stink off. Reeking of rancid hogfat in the field was one thing, but back among company it was another story.
Try finding a good, willing Molly when you smell like the dog’s breakfast, he thought. Ain’t possible... He glanced over to look at Metal-Head, checking to make sure the other man was doing as he’d been told. There weren’t many ways to screw up cleaning your kit, but chances were if there were one, Metal-Head would find it.
To his grudging surprise, Metal-Head looked to be nearly done. “When you get that done, go ahead and have a wash. Don’t bother takin’ your uniform off, might as well get it cleaned down first, then y’self.”
Metal-Head nodded, grunting in reply as he stood up and stood under the spray. The water running off him was brown from the collected dirt and grime from their two weeks in the jungle. Gnawgahyde followed suit, standing under his own shower nozzle, relishing the feeling of warm water running over his body. He forego soap, the chemical smell of it was too sharp. Instead, he let the water run over him as he peeled off his vest and jeans.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the ticket.”
He glanced over again, making sure Metal-Head hadn’t drown himself. No such luck, he thought as he watched Metal-Head peeling himself out of his coveralls, revealing a well-muscled body covered in thick dark hair. Not bad, Gnawgahyde thought, letting his eyes wander over the other man’s form. Unlike a lot of the men in Cobra, Metal-Head wasn't a walking landmass of muscle. Instead, he was a short man, built more along the lines of a runner or a male gymnast. The muscle was there, but it was understated, as though Metalh-head were built for endurance rather than size. Very nice…
As Gnawgahyde watched, Metal-Head soaped himself from top to toes, seeming to luxuriate in his first hot bath in two weeks. As the other man rinsed off, Gnawgahyde got the chance to watch the play of muscles in his legs and back. With a sigh, Gnawgahyde stuck his head under the spray, rinsing his face.
# # #
Near as Gnawgahyde could figure, he’d always fancied guys. There’d never been one huge, earthshaking moment when the heavens had opened and the knowledge of “I’m a pouf!” had been visited upon him. As far as he was concerned, that sort of codswallop was for city-queers, the kind of blokes who had too much money, too much time and too much invested in trying to make themselves out to be something extraordinary. The kind of folks who were proof positive that man had gotten too damned citified for his own good.
Look at the animals, he thought (on the few occasions he gave much thought to the matter). Males jumping males happened all the time in nature. One time on safari he’d run across two bull elephants sharing a private moment. Near as he could tell, they were a pair of older males who’d drifted together in their dotage for company and the occasional snog. He prided himself on the fact he waited for them to finish before shooting both for their tusks. A little courtesy from one fag to another. No fuss, no muss, no making a production about it. The world would be a much nicer place if everyone could do the same. Live and let live, that was his motto. Unless of course you were a bull elephant with ninety kilo tusks. But that was business.
# # #
“Auugh!”
Gnawgahyde was brought out of his reverie by the sound of Metal-Head’s voice. He looked up to see the other man rubbing his back against the corner of one of the shower stalls, scratching himself like a bear against a tree.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Itches!” Metal-head growled back at him. “S’driving me nuts!”
“Right,” Gnawgahyde came out of the shower and grabbed Metal-Head by the arm. “C’mere, let me get a look at you.” He marched Metal-Head over to the sinks, standing the other man in front of one so that his back was facing him. “Just as I thought.”
Metal-Head’s back was a collection of red patches where his rig harnass had rubbed at his skin, acne from the build up of oil and lack of bathing and small, black lumps that were ticks partly embedded in the skin. “Hold still,” Gnawgahyde said. “Going to have to take care of these before they get infected.”
“You’re not gonna cut ‘em out are you?” Metal-Head asked.
Gnawgahyde briefly debated saying ‘yes’, if only to further aggravate the other man. “No,” he said finally, figuring the added aggravation wouldn’t be worth it.”They’re near enough to the surface I can pick ‘em off, but you’re going to have to hold still, alright?”
“Sure, whatever, just back up a little,” Metal-Head said, shifting so that he was standing closer to the sink, putting that added fraction of an inch between their bare bodies.
Gnawgahyde grinned and deliberately stepped closer, crowding the other man up against the sink. “Just hold still,” he repeated, leaning over Metal-Head’s back.
Metal-Head scooted forward again, an exercise in futility. His back tensed, shoulders arching as he tried to put some kind of distance between himself and Gnawgahyde. Gnawgahyde chuckled again, amused by the display. “I’m not gonna bite, y’know,’ he said.
“I know,” Metal-Head said. “Just don’ like being crowded, okay? An’ move your di...move it over a little.”
Gnawgahyde laughed, a loud, cruel bark of a laugh, one that made Metal-Head cringe under him. He did not move, instead he continued to work over Metal-Head’s back, pinching ticks off and tossing them into the sink next to them. Metal-Head grunted a few times as Gnawgahyde yanked free a particularly stubborn tick.
“Ow, Christ!” Metal-Head said. “Leave some fuckin’ skin back there, will ya?”
Gnawgahyde leaned in, wrapping an arm around the younger man’s chest. “Shut up, the head came off, I’m gonna have to dig it out.” He grumbled. "Figures, last damn one."
“No knives!” Metal-Head yelped. “You cut me, I’m gonna kick your ass!”
“Not going to use a bloody knife,” Gnawgahyde said, pressing Metal-Head against the sink. “Just hold still.”
True to form, Metal-Head did anything but what he’d been told. As Gnawgahyde used his fingernails to dig the last remnants of the tick’s head out of Metal-Head’s shoulder blade, the other man squirmed and wailed, carrying on like a cat in a sack.
Fortunately, the Grenadier was so caught up in his hissy fit he didn’t (at first) notice the reaction his gyrations were causing. Gnawgahyde on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice.
"Right," he said, pushing back from Metal-Head, hoping the other man didn't notice the change in his tone. "That's got it. You can quit thrashing around now.'
"It hurt,' Metal-Head growled. "Felt like you were trying to yank my damn skin off."
"Woulda hurt worse if I'd left it in," Gnawgahyde said, leaning in again. This time, he focused on the bites again, reaching over and wetting a paper towel to daub up the blood surrounding some of the deeper bites. "Woulda grown a whole new body under your skin, swelled up like a football."
"Really?" Metal-Head leaned over the sink again, arching his back up. "Gross.."
"Yeah, real gross," Gnawgahyde said, brushing Metal-Head's back hair aside in his search for bites, washing as he went. Between his legs, his cock softened slightly, but not much. Gnawgahyde stared at Metal-Head's back for a moment, pondering. He's not bad looking, not from this angle anyway. Halfway bearable so long as he shuts up and does what he's told.
But is he willing? There in lay the rub. Near as he could tell, Metal-Head was straight. True, he'd never seen him with any of the Cobra Sheilas but that meant nothing. Most of them were after officers, Siegies, guys who looked like they had a future within Cobra. Few of them were interested in new-hire Iron Grenadiers. Especially spastic monkeys like Metal-Head.
Gnawgahyde continued to work on Metal-Head's back, letting his fingers linger here and there as he worked, trying to judge from the other man's responses how willing he might or might not be.
When Gnawgahyde's fingernails brushed Metla-Head's lower back, the other man let out a groan that caused Gnawgahyde's cock to stiffen. "Oh man, scratch there, wouldja?"
Either he's completely clueless or… Gnawgahyde thought as he scratched, digging his nails into the other man's back while the other man leaned forward, arching his back up further and groaning in obvious pleasure. Or he's a goddamn prick-teasing bastard…
Slowly, carefully, trying to make it seem casual, Gnawgahyde let one hand rest on Metal-Head's hip, while the other shifted from scratching to rubbing. Metal-Head's groans turned to a soft, pleasurable whimper. Gnawgahyde could feel the other man's muscles relaxing under his touch.
"Like that, do ya?" Gnawgahyde asked, swallowing roughly. Keep control, here boyo. Just like the hunt, don't spook the game.
"Yeah man. That damn rig really jacks up my back, y'know?" Metal-Head shifted his arms forward, spreading his legs as he braced himself against the sink. "Drives me nuts. Destro's got 'em giving me painkillers but I can't take too many or I'm all fucked up, y'know?"
Better than you ever will, Gnawgahyde thought as he glanced down. He swallowed again. The temptation was there. He could easily overpower Metal-Head. The other man was all but giving him the invitation to bugger him. No court in the land would convict him. Primarily because the chances of Metal-Head going forward were the same as those of Zarana joining a convent.
One good thrust an' this would be all over, he thought. That's all it would take.
But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't do it. There were still a few things he considered beyond the pale and rape was at the top of the list. He preferred his partners to be willing. Seduction was fine, force was not. Particularly in this case, when an unwilling partner could come back with half a dozen LAW missles to make his displeasure known. No, if this were going to happen, it'd happen because Metal-Head wanted it, if only for the moment.
Still there was nothing in the rules that said he couldn't try to tip things in his favor.
With one hand still rubbing Metal-Head's back in slow, easy circles, Gnawgahyde leaned in closer, letting the hand that had been resting on Metal-Head's hip slide forward, ostensibly to brace himself against the sink. When Metal-Head didn't shift away, he reached up to brush Metal-Head's hair away from the side of his neck.
"'Old still," Gnawgahyde said, accent thickening. "Think I spotted another 'un."
"Huh?" Metal-Head sounded distracted, almost sleepy. "..oh..'kay.."
Gnawgahyde leaned in, putting more of his weight against Metal-Head's back, getting his face in close to the other man's neck, while the hand that had been rubbing Metal's back dropped down, sliding around to pull the other man in closer. Metal-Head's only protest was a soft, sleepy grunt.
Right, moment of truth. Gnawgahyde let his free hand slide down, brushing over Metal-Head's stomach, getting a soft, questioning noise out of the other man. "Shhh, boyo," Gnawgahyde said as his fingers brushed Metal-Head's groin.
Metal-Head's reaction was more or less what Gnawgahyde expected: the smaller man jerked upright so quickly he whacked his head against Gnawgahyde's chest. "Leggo, lemme go, lemme go NOW!" he said.
"Easy! Easy!" Gnawgahyde brought both arms around to grab Metal-Head, trying to pin his arms to his sides. "S'not what you think!"
"I think you're a goddamn faggot!" Metal-Head struggled against Gnawgahyde's grip. For his size, Metal-Head turned out to be surprisingly strong. Lucky for me, he's used to fighting tanks instead of brawlin or I'd be in serious shit.
"Okay, it is what you think," Gnawgahyde said. "Lemme explain!"
"Explain what?! You were gonna fuck me!"
"Yeah, but only if you wanted me to," Gnawgahyde said.
Metal-Head stopped struggling briefly as he processed this information. Then: "I ain't gay," he said. "I like girls."
"I don't particularly care," Gnawgahyde said. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I been out in the boonies for two weeks, I'm horny an' you're here. All I want is the chance to get off an' if you'll let me, I'll get you off too, alright?"
Gnawgahyde watched Metal-Head's face in the mirror. Clearly, this was an arrangement he'd never run into before. "..what, like a prison thing?" he asked.
"Yeah, kinda,' Gnawgahyde said. "Only the only fag here is me."
Metal-Head blinked, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "But…you ain't puttin' anything in me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Gnawgahyde said.
"An' I ain't putting anything in you," Metal-Head said. "S'gross."
"Limiting," Gnawgahyde said. "But not impossible."
Metal-Head shivered. "S'not gonna hurt?" he asked, voice small, the bluster and bravado gone for the moment.
"It won't hurt,' Gnawgahyde said.
There was a longer pause. This close, Gnawgahyde could almost hear the gears turning in Metal-Head's mind as he talked himself into this. Then, finally, there was a sigh and a nod. "Okay," he said. "But I ain't gonna like it."
Gnawgahyde chuckled. "We'll see about that."
# # #
Gnawgahyde let Metal-Head go and stepped back, giving the other man the chance to light out if he so chose. No harm, no foul. Metal-Head didn't move, didn't even turn to look at him. Instead, he watched Gnawgahyde in the mirror. Without his shades on, the other man's eyes were wide and vulnerable, the same light blue shade Gnawgahyde had only seen on Huskies before.
They locked eyes and for a moment, there was a spark between them. For all his protestations to the contrary, Gnawgahyde got the impression that Metal-Head wasn't necessarily a hundred percent straight. Not gay either, but something else, something a lot more primitive than either of those narrow categories. That was okay, he thought as he grinned at the other man, running a hand down Metal-Head's spine to try and soothe him. He liked primitive.
# # #
If anything, Metal-Head was even less inclined toward introspection than Gnawgahyde was. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, it was more that it bored him. It was a lot easier to focus on the external things: pretty girls, video games, targets, than it was to worry about the internal stuff.
Metal-Head had no idea how lonely he really was. He knew he was homesick; joining the Grenadiers was the first time he'd been away from home alone since summer camp back in 1982. And this time there was no calling mom to come pick him up if he didn't like it.
He was an outsider, even among the Grenadiers. Unlike most of the guys he'd trained with in Basic, he hadn't come to the Grenadiers looking for adventure or the chance to escape creditors or as a place to use the skills that some other army had taught him that turned out to be next to useless in the real world. No, he'd been hired as a fluke. Snapped up after Destro had found out just how good he was with targets, any kind of targets. Who knew plugging assholes with softballs at the company picnic would lead to all this? From janitor to mercenary in nine easy innings.
It had sounded pretty glamorous, and the money Destro had offered had been insane. And when you added to the mix that Mom had hated the idea, it was all the sweeter.
She didn't mind the money though, he thought angrily.
"Easy boy, just relax." Gnawgahyde's voice was close, the other man's breath hot against his ear as he stepped in closer, hand moving to stroke Metal-head's cock again. This time, Metal-Head didn't pull back, didn't react at all except for a soft whimper.
# # #
Gnawgahyde stroked Metal-Head cock, rough fingers teasing the head. His free hand snaked around the other man’s chest, pulling him back against him. Leaning down, he nuzzled the side of Metal-Head’s neck, breathing in the other man’s scent. Mingled in with the chemical smell of soap and the lingering smells of the jungle outside was the scent of fear. Gnawgahyde nuzzled in closer, inhaling the scent, reveling in it. He flicked his tounge out, running it up the side of Metal-Head’s neck to the earlobe, teasing the lobe with his tongue.
Metal-Head squirmed in his grip. “Awwgod...”
Gnawgahyde continued, sucking the lobe, the ear, the side of Metal-Head’s neck. At once soft and gentle, then firmer, harder seeing what Metal-Head responded to, studying his reactions the way he’d study the tracks of an animal he was hunting.
# # #
Not gonna like this, not gonna like this, not gonna awww GOD!
Metal-Head groaned aloud as Gnawgahyde bit down on his shoulder. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt. Mixed with the pleasure of being stroked, the pain was exquisite. He pulled forward, trying to move away but as he did, Gnawgahyde tightened his grip on Metal’s cock, pushing back as he was pushing forward. The feeling, mixed in with the pain took his breath away. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
# # #
Gnawgahyde continued to work Metal-Head’s neck, alternating between soft kisses and rough bites. Metal-Head squirmed in his grip, though judging by the noises he was making this was more from pleasure than a desire to escape.
Gnawgahyde knew he had Metal-Head when the younger man finally relaxed against him, his cock ramrod stiff in Gnawgahyde’s grip, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He eased up, kissing the bite marks on Metal-Head’s shoulder, running his tongue over the sensitized flesh. “Like that?” he asked as Metal-Head moaned again, louder this time.
“Uh-huh,” Metal-Head’s head bobbled again, but his answer was steady. Or as steady as it could be.
“Want to feel something better?”
The head-bobble straightened out. “Yeah,” was the more forceful reply.
Gnawgahyde let Metal-Head go, grabbing the other man’s shoulders and turning him around, bracing him back against the sink. Metal-Head glanced down and for a moment, the fear was back in his eyes. But this time, the other man didn’t shy away. He looked up at Gnawgahyde. “What’re you gonna do?”
Gnawgahyde stepped closer, reaching out to wrap his hand around both their cocks. Metal-Head started to shake again. “Don’t…’ he said, but it was a token protest.
“Shhhh, love,” Gnawgahyde’s voice was a low rumble as he stroked them in unison. “S’not so bad, after all, eh?”
“G..guess not,’ Metal-Head said, keeping his eyes down, staring at Gnawgahyde’s hand as it stroked and teased them. “S’okay…feels...it feels…” Metal-Head looked up at him, shaking his head slightly. ‘Good,’ he said, voice small, making him sound younger than he was. “It feels good.”
Gnawgahyde grinned. “Toldja,’ he said, reaching out to brush Metal-Head’s hair out of his face. “You’re doin’ fine, sport.” He rested his hand on the back of Metal-Head’s neck, massaging him and cradling the back of his head.
Metal-Head looked up at him, a shy grin spreading across his face. “..thanks, I guess..” he said, shifting from foot to foot. “You’re..uh..good too. Real..uhm…experienced…yeah..”
Gnawgahyde smirked. “Thanks,” he said, leaning in to kiss Metal-Head, using the hand on the back of Metal-Head’s neck to hold the other man still. Metal-Head tensed but didn’t struggle. Gnawgahyde let his hand drop, shifting it to run down Metal-Head’s back, patting the other man like he would a dog who performed a trick correctly.
Gnawgahyde opened his mouth, licking at Metal-Head’s lips, using his tongue to try and wedge the other man’s mouth open. When Metal-Head resisted, he slowed the hand stroking their cocks. It took only a few moments for Metal-Head to work out the connection: give Gnawgahyde what he wanted, get a reward.
The kiss was clumsy, Metal-Head was inexperienced and despite Gnawgahyde’s coaxing and his own seeming willingness shied away from anything but the most cursory probe of his mouth. Sooner than he would have liked, Gnawgahyde broke the kiss, pulling back to look at Metal-Head.
“Sorry,” Metal-Head said, sheepishly. The other man looked up at him with fear in his eyes, though it was fear of disappointing Gnawgahyde.
“S’alright,” Gnawgahyde said. “You’re doin’ fine, boy.”
Metal-Head grinned, the expression genuine. “..thanks..”
“Think you’ve earned this,” Gnawgahyde said, releasing their cocks. He leaned in, putting his hands on Metal-Head’s hips and knelt down.
“Whoa, whoa!” Metal-Head said. “What’re you doing?!”
Gnawgahyde looked up. “…don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a blow job before…” Not hard to believe but…damn depressing.
“I have!” Metal-Head said, coloring from head to foot. “Lots of times! Got one…uihmm…like…1987? Only that was from a chick…you’re the first guy. Not that I ever thought about guys doing that before, ‘cause I’m nto gay. Really.”
Gnawgahyde snorted. “Right,” he said, taking Metal-Head’s cock in hand and lapping the head. “If you want me to stop then…”
“Noooooo, that’s okay…” Metal-Head’s eyes had gone wide, his eyebrows had suddenly made base camp near his hairline and his voice cracked like fine china. “You don’t hafta stop..”
Gnawgahyde smirked. “That’s what I thought you’d say,’ he said, leaning in to take Metal-Head fully into his mouth.
# # #
Metal-Head wasn’t thinking clearly. Which, truth be told, was more or less his normal state of mind. The difference was, this time, all the distractions, the internal and external noise, everything that made it so hard to concentrate on anything but the next target, were quiet. There was nothing but the feeling of Gnawgahyde’s mouth on his dick and it was pretty incredible.
No, it was better than incredible. It was on beyond incredible. It was so far ahead of incredible that it was behind it and getting ready to lap it. This was the best sex he’d ever had…which again, wasn’t saying much since his previous conquests had consisted primarily of one insanely frustrating grope-session with Betty Jameson in the eleventh grade. More frustrating for Betty since she’d made the mistake of trying to neck with him at the drive-in during “Masters of the Universe.” Was it his fault she picked a movie he’d actually wanted to see?
Gnawgahyde did something with his tongue that removed all memories of Betty Jameson, drive-ins and Dolph Lungren’s oiled chest from his mind. His hips rocked forward, pushing deeper into Gnawgahyde’s mouth. He could feel his balls raising, getting ready to release.
# # #
Gnawgahyde reached up, wrapping his fingers around the base of Metal-Head’s cock and squeezed, applying just enough pressure to hold off the inevitable for a few minutes longer. It was the kid’s first time, after all, might as well make it memorable.
Metal-Head’s hips bucked again, the other man making a sound that was almost a sob as he was held off. “Please?” he said.
Gnawgahyde pulled back enough so he could speak. “Not yet,” he said, free hand stroking Metal-Head’s outer thigh. “Soon, love.”
“Please?” Metal-Head said again, voice tight, frustrated. “I wanna come.”
“Not yet.” Gnawgahyde’s voice was firm but soothing as he steadied Metal-Head against the sink, keeping one hand around the base of the other’s cock. Metal-Head flinched at the feeling of cool porcelain against his back.
“Hold it,” he said, squirming. “Don’t..”
Gnawgahyde bit back a snarl of frustration. Now was not the time to get angry, no matter how tempting it might be. The kid was nervous, even this close to release. He wants to be talked into it.
Gnawgahyde stroked the side of Metal-Head’s thigh, fingers tracing the taut muscles. Metal-Head shivered at the touch. “Shhhh, love,” he said. “You’re close, just a little bit longer and you’ll be done.” He leaned in, planting a kiss on Metal-Head’s thigh, at the crux of hip and groin. “Don’t you want that?”
“Yes,” Metal-Head said. “But..I..”
“You’re scared,” Gnawgahyde said. “I know, I been there m’self. But this ain’t nothing to be scared of. Just close your eyes an’ relax, Metal-Head.”
“Stuart,” Metal-Head said. “M’name’s Stuart.”
Gnawgahyde grinned, kissing Stuart’s thigh again, running his tounge along the divide between hip and pelvis. “Relax, Stuart,” he said again. “Just close your eyes an’ let me do all the work.”
There was a pause. Gnawgahyde could feel the other man teetering on the edfe of indecision, then, Metal-Head nodded.
# # #
The thought ran through Metal-Head’s mind: If I don’t see it, it didn’t happen. It was a comforting thought, one that had served him well over the years. Boogymen, horror movies, frog dissection in biology class…all he ever had to do was close his eyes and the world went away. This time wouldn’t be any different.
Except that this time the feelings wouldn’t be ignored. Couldn’t be ignored. Gnawgahyde’s mouth was hot on him. Hot and wet, tighter than anything he’d ever felt before. The feeling was great, better than anything he’d ever felt before. Any guilt or doubts he might have felt were soon swamped by the pleasure rolling over him, the feeling of pressure building up to the breaking point.
# # #
Gnawgahyde released his grip on the base of Metal-Head’s cock, pushing himself down on the other man until his lips brushed the area where his fingers had been. Pumping his head back and forth, he let his tongue work the underside of Metal-Head’s cock, coaxing it to finally give up the ghost.
It didn’t take much persuasion. With a groan that ended on a sob, Metal-Head’s hips rocked forward, cum shooting into Gnawgahyde’s mouth. Gnawgahyde fought the reflex to swallow as he continued to coax Metal-Head to finish, milking the other man for all he was worth.
# # #
It was over. Metal-Head leaned heavily against the sink, bracing himself since his legs had suddenly gone wobbly.
“Oh man,” he said, breathlessly. “That was…that was good.”
Gnawgahyde chuckled as he pulled away. ‘You’re welcome,” he said. ‘You weren’t half bad y’self.”
Metal-Head blinked, rapidly. ‘Thanks, liked it,” he said, largely on reflex as he looked down, locking eyes with Gnawgahyde for a moment, the full realization of what he’d done finally hitting him.
“Oh shit,” he said.
# # #
Gnawgahyde looked up into Metal-Head’s face, seeing the look of abject deer-in-headlights terror starting to form on the younger man’s face. He remembered that look and the feeling that went with it. I know what you’re thinking, he thought. And you’re scared shitless that you’re right. Poor wanker.
“You alright?” Gnawgahyde said, though truth be told he knew the answer.
“Uh-huh,’ Metal-Head said after a moment, head bobbling as if it were coming attached from his neck. Gnawgahyde saw the first tears starting to form in the other man’s eyes. “M’cool, s’all good..” Metal-Head’s voice broke on the last.
“C’mere,” Gnawgahyde said, taking the other man’s arm gently, he ushered him over to a shower stall and stepped in long enough to reach over and turn the water on. He set the temperature to just below lukewarm, cold enough to distract but not put further strain on already frazzled nerves. “Put your face in the water. Your need to get some of that eye-sweat out of ‘em.”
Metal-Head did as he was bidden, not resisting as Gnawgahyde stepped into the stall behind him, though he flinched suddenly when the bigger man pulled him back against him.
“Sorry,” he said, voice small. “I…just..I liked...I liked it...am I…”
“You’re not necessarily a Molly,” Gnawgahyde interrupted, leaning over to whisper in Metal-Head’s ear. “Lotta straight guys have gotten their dicks sucked by blokes, doesn’t mean a damn thing. But, if you liked it an’ you want to do it again, you come to my quarters when you’re ready, right? An’ I’ll teach you a few tricks no woman could ever show you.”
Metal-Head nodded, but otherwise didn’t answer. With one last pat to the back, Gnawgahyde left the stall, gathered his things and left the showers.
Fandom: GI Joe (Specifically the DIC era cartoon)
Characters: Metal-Head/Gnawgahyde
Prompt: N/A
Word Count: 5.470 words
Rating: NC-17/Slash
Summary: After a training mission in the jungle, Gnawgahyde attempts to shut Metal-Head up.
Author's Notes: Because I'm updating my Big List O'Fics and am trying to be a completist, I'm reposting this here so I have a better link to the fic for the list. That and this way I don't have to go through and htmlize this sucker.
This was the first ever slash fic I ever wrote and one of the first fanfics I ever wrote for public consumption. It's about seven years old. And it's simultaneously one of my favorites and one of the ones I'm still kind of shy about (the look on Swindle's face in the icon? Pretty much sums up how I feel). I'll stop blathering here and let you get on to reading the original blather that preceeded the story (under the first cut). Or you can skip to the second cut and avoid my authorial insecurities.
Explanation/Justification: The idea of a Metal-Head/Gnawgahyde slash fic started off as a joke of sorts, something I could pull out to scare people with. Like poo on a stick, only textual. And then I went and started mulling the idea around halfway seriously and it kept simmering and simmering and wouldn't leave me alone and then the perfect setup came to mind and well, here it is.
I had a few goals in mind when I set out to do this fic. These were basically: a slash fic that featured two guys who weren’t the traditional pretty boys, that featured male homosexuals who were more masculine than feminine, and that featured sex that wasn’t a feminine ideal of male sexual behavior. Basically, I wanted to write about gay men who were primarily MEN, not women with penises.
I’d like to think I succeeded. I HOPE that I’ve succeeded and that you are entertained by this fic. But even if you’re not, this one’s gonna be memorable… I hope you enjoy. This is my first attempt at a slash fic and my first attempt at any sort of adult-themed fic for public consumption. When you speak of this, and I know you will, be gentle.
Special thanks to Slayne22, cadet and my roommate Amy for beta-reading duties.
# # #
“Oh man,” Metal-Head said as they broke through the jungle cover and into the Cobra base camp, heading for the underground base. “I am gonna sleep for a week. No, a month!”
“First things first,” Gnawgahyde said, grabbing the back of Metal-Head’s uniform as the doors to the underground base opened. “First, we got kit to clean.”
“Kit? Talk English already, geeze…”
“Gear.” Gnawgahyde growled the word out. He’d thought this job would have been a piece of cake. Destro wanted his new tank killer taught something about jungle survival. It should have been a case of take the new guy out, show him a few ropes and get in some hunting on Steel Face’s dime.
He should have known something was up by the way Destro hadn’t tried to haggle his initial price down. But no, he’d allowed himself to be blinded by the zeros and the penalty had been two weeks in the jungle with a guy who could wear out a hyperactive six year old.
Gnawgahyde grumbled as he dragged Metal-Head along with him. It was amazing that Destro trusted the man with high explosives. He was a trainwreck on legs. He’d stomped through jungle, leaving a huge swath behind him that Helen Keller could have followed. Animals ran before him, even ones that had never seen humans before fled in terror of Metal-Head’s approach. He got distracted by moving objects, everything from insects to leaves. He talked incessantly and when he wasn’t talking, he was singing, which was worse since he only knew half of every song he’d sing. Gnawgahyde seriously doubted half of what he’d tried to teach the idiot had sunk in.
“Where we going?” Metal-Head asked as he stumbled along beside Gnawgahyde. “C’mon man, leggo!”
“We’re goin’ to the armory,” Gnawgahyde said. “Dropping off our weapons and then we’re heading to the showers to clean our gear.”
“Man, can’t we do that later?” Metal-Head’s whine reminded Gnawgahyde of hyenas chattering in the night. He felt his right eyebrow twitch at the memory. Can’t shoot him, don’t have the cash yet, he reminded himself. Get money, then shoot him.
“No, we cannot do it later,” Gnawgahyde said. “We do it now because you are by God going to learn something from this, you stupid Seppo, or I’m going to throttle you with my bare hands, d’you understand?”
Metal-Head stared at him for a moment and Gnawgahyde had to resist the urge to deck him there. If anything was worse than the constant chatter it was the all-too-bloody frequent pauses for Metal-Head’s brain to catch up with his ears.
Gnawgahyde gave him a shake. It worked with his radio sometimes. “D’you understand?” he growled.
“Yeah, yeah,” Metal-Head said. “Got it, s’cool. Chill out already…”
Gnawgahyde released Metal-Head and stomped off toward the armory with another angry growl.
“Why’d you gotta be such a dickhead anyway?” Metal-Head asked as he followed behind Gnawgahyde. “I mean, what crawled up your ass an’ died?”
“Shut it,” Gnawgahyde said, pushing open the doors to the armory. “Had enough of listening to you yammer on when we were out there, do me the favor of putting a lid on it now that we’re back in camp, alright?”
“Fine!” Metal-Head said, walking over to one of the Vipers. ‘No problemo. Here.” The last was to the Viper manning the checkout counter. Metal-Head stacked a pistol and an assault rifle on the counter before moving to shrug his way out of his missle-rig. “Not like I wanted to go out there in the first damn place. Was all Destro’s stupid idea.”
Gnawgahyde grunted. “You got that right,” he said, setting his own weapons on the counter. He glared at the Viper-Clerk. “Leave those, I’ll be back to clean ‘em myself soon as I get done showing the monkey a couple more tricks.”
“Quit callin’ me a monkey!” Metal-Head slammed his fist down on the counter. “You been callin’ me that for the last two weeks an’ I’m fuckin’ sick of it!”
“Yeah?” Gnawgahyde said with a grin. “An’ what the hell are you gonna do about it, Monkey?”
Gnawgahyde knew the punch was coming long before he even saw Metal-Head’s fist come flying at him. The other man was used to fighting tanks, not people. Bringing a hand up, he grabbed the other man’s fist in mid-air, his larger hand swallowing it and bringing Metal-Head up short. Meanwhile, he made a fist of his own with his other hand and brought it around to slam Metal-Head in the face. The sensation of Metal-Head’s head snapping back and the smaller man staggering backwards almost made up for having had to spend two weeks listening to the chorus from Queen’s “We Will Rock You” sung in an obnoxious, droning falsetto. Almost.
“C’mon, mate,” Gnawgahyde said, dragging the still-stunned Metal-Head after him.
# # #
“Don’t bother undressing yet,” Gnawgahyde said, once they’d gotten to the showers. “Just toss your stuff into the shower an’ start scrubbing it down.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Metal-Head said, though Gnawgahyde noticed that he headed off to do what he was told. Should have hit him days ago...
Gnawgahyde found a shower stall of his own and set about cleaning his gear. The one advantage to working for Destro, and by extent Cobra, was at least this place had hot water and plenty of it. Ice-cold streams were all well and good, but there was nothing like a good hot shower to really get the stink off. Reeking of rancid hogfat in the field was one thing, but back among company it was another story.
Try finding a good, willing Molly when you smell like the dog’s breakfast, he thought. Ain’t possible... He glanced over to look at Metal-Head, checking to make sure the other man was doing as he’d been told. There weren’t many ways to screw up cleaning your kit, but chances were if there were one, Metal-Head would find it.
To his grudging surprise, Metal-Head looked to be nearly done. “When you get that done, go ahead and have a wash. Don’t bother takin’ your uniform off, might as well get it cleaned down first, then y’self.”
Metal-Head nodded, grunting in reply as he stood up and stood under the spray. The water running off him was brown from the collected dirt and grime from their two weeks in the jungle. Gnawgahyde followed suit, standing under his own shower nozzle, relishing the feeling of warm water running over his body. He forego soap, the chemical smell of it was too sharp. Instead, he let the water run over him as he peeled off his vest and jeans.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the ticket.”
He glanced over again, making sure Metal-Head hadn’t drown himself. No such luck, he thought as he watched Metal-Head peeling himself out of his coveralls, revealing a well-muscled body covered in thick dark hair. Not bad, Gnawgahyde thought, letting his eyes wander over the other man’s form. Unlike a lot of the men in Cobra, Metal-Head wasn't a walking landmass of muscle. Instead, he was a short man, built more along the lines of a runner or a male gymnast. The muscle was there, but it was understated, as though Metalh-head were built for endurance rather than size. Very nice…
As Gnawgahyde watched, Metal-Head soaped himself from top to toes, seeming to luxuriate in his first hot bath in two weeks. As the other man rinsed off, Gnawgahyde got the chance to watch the play of muscles in his legs and back. With a sigh, Gnawgahyde stuck his head under the spray, rinsing his face.
# # #
Near as Gnawgahyde could figure, he’d always fancied guys. There’d never been one huge, earthshaking moment when the heavens had opened and the knowledge of “I’m a pouf!” had been visited upon him. As far as he was concerned, that sort of codswallop was for city-queers, the kind of blokes who had too much money, too much time and too much invested in trying to make themselves out to be something extraordinary. The kind of folks who were proof positive that man had gotten too damned citified for his own good.
Look at the animals, he thought (on the few occasions he gave much thought to the matter). Males jumping males happened all the time in nature. One time on safari he’d run across two bull elephants sharing a private moment. Near as he could tell, they were a pair of older males who’d drifted together in their dotage for company and the occasional snog. He prided himself on the fact he waited for them to finish before shooting both for their tusks. A little courtesy from one fag to another. No fuss, no muss, no making a production about it. The world would be a much nicer place if everyone could do the same. Live and let live, that was his motto. Unless of course you were a bull elephant with ninety kilo tusks. But that was business.
# # #
“Auugh!”
Gnawgahyde was brought out of his reverie by the sound of Metal-Head’s voice. He looked up to see the other man rubbing his back against the corner of one of the shower stalls, scratching himself like a bear against a tree.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Itches!” Metal-head growled back at him. “S’driving me nuts!”
“Right,” Gnawgahyde came out of the shower and grabbed Metal-Head by the arm. “C’mere, let me get a look at you.” He marched Metal-Head over to the sinks, standing the other man in front of one so that his back was facing him. “Just as I thought.”
Metal-Head’s back was a collection of red patches where his rig harnass had rubbed at his skin, acne from the build up of oil and lack of bathing and small, black lumps that were ticks partly embedded in the skin. “Hold still,” Gnawgahyde said. “Going to have to take care of these before they get infected.”
“You’re not gonna cut ‘em out are you?” Metal-Head asked.
Gnawgahyde briefly debated saying ‘yes’, if only to further aggravate the other man. “No,” he said finally, figuring the added aggravation wouldn’t be worth it.”They’re near enough to the surface I can pick ‘em off, but you’re going to have to hold still, alright?”
“Sure, whatever, just back up a little,” Metal-Head said, shifting so that he was standing closer to the sink, putting that added fraction of an inch between their bare bodies.
Gnawgahyde grinned and deliberately stepped closer, crowding the other man up against the sink. “Just hold still,” he repeated, leaning over Metal-Head’s back.
Metal-Head scooted forward again, an exercise in futility. His back tensed, shoulders arching as he tried to put some kind of distance between himself and Gnawgahyde. Gnawgahyde chuckled again, amused by the display. “I’m not gonna bite, y’know,’ he said.
“I know,” Metal-Head said. “Just don’ like being crowded, okay? An’ move your di...move it over a little.”
Gnawgahyde laughed, a loud, cruel bark of a laugh, one that made Metal-Head cringe under him. He did not move, instead he continued to work over Metal-Head’s back, pinching ticks off and tossing them into the sink next to them. Metal-Head grunted a few times as Gnawgahyde yanked free a particularly stubborn tick.
“Ow, Christ!” Metal-Head said. “Leave some fuckin’ skin back there, will ya?”
Gnawgahyde leaned in, wrapping an arm around the younger man’s chest. “Shut up, the head came off, I’m gonna have to dig it out.” He grumbled. "Figures, last damn one."
“No knives!” Metal-Head yelped. “You cut me, I’m gonna kick your ass!”
“Not going to use a bloody knife,” Gnawgahyde said, pressing Metal-Head against the sink. “Just hold still.”
True to form, Metal-Head did anything but what he’d been told. As Gnawgahyde used his fingernails to dig the last remnants of the tick’s head out of Metal-Head’s shoulder blade, the other man squirmed and wailed, carrying on like a cat in a sack.
Fortunately, the Grenadier was so caught up in his hissy fit he didn’t (at first) notice the reaction his gyrations were causing. Gnawgahyde on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice.
"Right," he said, pushing back from Metal-Head, hoping the other man didn't notice the change in his tone. "That's got it. You can quit thrashing around now.'
"It hurt,' Metal-Head growled. "Felt like you were trying to yank my damn skin off."
"Woulda hurt worse if I'd left it in," Gnawgahyde said, leaning in again. This time, he focused on the bites again, reaching over and wetting a paper towel to daub up the blood surrounding some of the deeper bites. "Woulda grown a whole new body under your skin, swelled up like a football."
"Really?" Metal-Head leaned over the sink again, arching his back up. "Gross.."
"Yeah, real gross," Gnawgahyde said, brushing Metal-Head's back hair aside in his search for bites, washing as he went. Between his legs, his cock softened slightly, but not much. Gnawgahyde stared at Metal-Head's back for a moment, pondering. He's not bad looking, not from this angle anyway. Halfway bearable so long as he shuts up and does what he's told.
But is he willing? There in lay the rub. Near as he could tell, Metal-Head was straight. True, he'd never seen him with any of the Cobra Sheilas but that meant nothing. Most of them were after officers, Siegies, guys who looked like they had a future within Cobra. Few of them were interested in new-hire Iron Grenadiers. Especially spastic monkeys like Metal-Head.
Gnawgahyde continued to work on Metal-Head's back, letting his fingers linger here and there as he worked, trying to judge from the other man's responses how willing he might or might not be.
When Gnawgahyde's fingernails brushed Metla-Head's lower back, the other man let out a groan that caused Gnawgahyde's cock to stiffen. "Oh man, scratch there, wouldja?"
Either he's completely clueless or… Gnawgahyde thought as he scratched, digging his nails into the other man's back while the other man leaned forward, arching his back up further and groaning in obvious pleasure. Or he's a goddamn prick-teasing bastard…
Slowly, carefully, trying to make it seem casual, Gnawgahyde let one hand rest on Metal-Head's hip, while the other shifted from scratching to rubbing. Metal-Head's groans turned to a soft, pleasurable whimper. Gnawgahyde could feel the other man's muscles relaxing under his touch.
"Like that, do ya?" Gnawgahyde asked, swallowing roughly. Keep control, here boyo. Just like the hunt, don't spook the game.
"Yeah man. That damn rig really jacks up my back, y'know?" Metal-Head shifted his arms forward, spreading his legs as he braced himself against the sink. "Drives me nuts. Destro's got 'em giving me painkillers but I can't take too many or I'm all fucked up, y'know?"
Better than you ever will, Gnawgahyde thought as he glanced down. He swallowed again. The temptation was there. He could easily overpower Metal-Head. The other man was all but giving him the invitation to bugger him. No court in the land would convict him. Primarily because the chances of Metal-Head going forward were the same as those of Zarana joining a convent.
One good thrust an' this would be all over, he thought. That's all it would take.
But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't do it. There were still a few things he considered beyond the pale and rape was at the top of the list. He preferred his partners to be willing. Seduction was fine, force was not. Particularly in this case, when an unwilling partner could come back with half a dozen LAW missles to make his displeasure known. No, if this were going to happen, it'd happen because Metal-Head wanted it, if only for the moment.
Still there was nothing in the rules that said he couldn't try to tip things in his favor.
With one hand still rubbing Metal-Head's back in slow, easy circles, Gnawgahyde leaned in closer, letting the hand that had been resting on Metal-Head's hip slide forward, ostensibly to brace himself against the sink. When Metal-Head didn't shift away, he reached up to brush Metal-Head's hair away from the side of his neck.
"'Old still," Gnawgahyde said, accent thickening. "Think I spotted another 'un."
"Huh?" Metal-Head sounded distracted, almost sleepy. "..oh..'kay.."
Gnawgahyde leaned in, putting more of his weight against Metal-Head's back, getting his face in close to the other man's neck, while the hand that had been rubbing Metal's back dropped down, sliding around to pull the other man in closer. Metal-Head's only protest was a soft, sleepy grunt.
Right, moment of truth. Gnawgahyde let his free hand slide down, brushing over Metal-Head's stomach, getting a soft, questioning noise out of the other man. "Shhh, boyo," Gnawgahyde said as his fingers brushed Metal-Head's groin.
Metal-Head's reaction was more or less what Gnawgahyde expected: the smaller man jerked upright so quickly he whacked his head against Gnawgahyde's chest. "Leggo, lemme go, lemme go NOW!" he said.
"Easy! Easy!" Gnawgahyde brought both arms around to grab Metal-Head, trying to pin his arms to his sides. "S'not what you think!"
"I think you're a goddamn faggot!" Metal-Head struggled against Gnawgahyde's grip. For his size, Metal-Head turned out to be surprisingly strong. Lucky for me, he's used to fighting tanks instead of brawlin or I'd be in serious shit.
"Okay, it is what you think," Gnawgahyde said. "Lemme explain!"
"Explain what?! You were gonna fuck me!"
"Yeah, but only if you wanted me to," Gnawgahyde said.
Metal-Head stopped struggling briefly as he processed this information. Then: "I ain't gay," he said. "I like girls."
"I don't particularly care," Gnawgahyde said. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I been out in the boonies for two weeks, I'm horny an' you're here. All I want is the chance to get off an' if you'll let me, I'll get you off too, alright?"
Gnawgahyde watched Metal-Head's face in the mirror. Clearly, this was an arrangement he'd never run into before. "..what, like a prison thing?" he asked.
"Yeah, kinda,' Gnawgahyde said. "Only the only fag here is me."
Metal-Head blinked, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "But…you ain't puttin' anything in me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Gnawgahyde said.
"An' I ain't putting anything in you," Metal-Head said. "S'gross."
"Limiting," Gnawgahyde said. "But not impossible."
Metal-Head shivered. "S'not gonna hurt?" he asked, voice small, the bluster and bravado gone for the moment.
"It won't hurt,' Gnawgahyde said.
There was a longer pause. This close, Gnawgahyde could almost hear the gears turning in Metal-Head's mind as he talked himself into this. Then, finally, there was a sigh and a nod. "Okay," he said. "But I ain't gonna like it."
Gnawgahyde chuckled. "We'll see about that."
# # #
Gnawgahyde let Metal-Head go and stepped back, giving the other man the chance to light out if he so chose. No harm, no foul. Metal-Head didn't move, didn't even turn to look at him. Instead, he watched Gnawgahyde in the mirror. Without his shades on, the other man's eyes were wide and vulnerable, the same light blue shade Gnawgahyde had only seen on Huskies before.
They locked eyes and for a moment, there was a spark between them. For all his protestations to the contrary, Gnawgahyde got the impression that Metal-Head wasn't necessarily a hundred percent straight. Not gay either, but something else, something a lot more primitive than either of those narrow categories. That was okay, he thought as he grinned at the other man, running a hand down Metal-Head's spine to try and soothe him. He liked primitive.
# # #
If anything, Metal-Head was even less inclined toward introspection than Gnawgahyde was. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, it was more that it bored him. It was a lot easier to focus on the external things: pretty girls, video games, targets, than it was to worry about the internal stuff.
Metal-Head had no idea how lonely he really was. He knew he was homesick; joining the Grenadiers was the first time he'd been away from home alone since summer camp back in 1982. And this time there was no calling mom to come pick him up if he didn't like it.
He was an outsider, even among the Grenadiers. Unlike most of the guys he'd trained with in Basic, he hadn't come to the Grenadiers looking for adventure or the chance to escape creditors or as a place to use the skills that some other army had taught him that turned out to be next to useless in the real world. No, he'd been hired as a fluke. Snapped up after Destro had found out just how good he was with targets, any kind of targets. Who knew plugging assholes with softballs at the company picnic would lead to all this? From janitor to mercenary in nine easy innings.
It had sounded pretty glamorous, and the money Destro had offered had been insane. And when you added to the mix that Mom had hated the idea, it was all the sweeter.
She didn't mind the money though, he thought angrily.
"Easy boy, just relax." Gnawgahyde's voice was close, the other man's breath hot against his ear as he stepped in closer, hand moving to stroke Metal-head's cock again. This time, Metal-Head didn't pull back, didn't react at all except for a soft whimper.
# # #
Gnawgahyde stroked Metal-Head cock, rough fingers teasing the head. His free hand snaked around the other man’s chest, pulling him back against him. Leaning down, he nuzzled the side of Metal-Head’s neck, breathing in the other man’s scent. Mingled in with the chemical smell of soap and the lingering smells of the jungle outside was the scent of fear. Gnawgahyde nuzzled in closer, inhaling the scent, reveling in it. He flicked his tounge out, running it up the side of Metal-Head’s neck to the earlobe, teasing the lobe with his tongue.
Metal-Head squirmed in his grip. “Awwgod...”
Gnawgahyde continued, sucking the lobe, the ear, the side of Metal-Head’s neck. At once soft and gentle, then firmer, harder seeing what Metal-Head responded to, studying his reactions the way he’d study the tracks of an animal he was hunting.
# # #
Not gonna like this, not gonna like this, not gonna awww GOD!
Metal-Head groaned aloud as Gnawgahyde bit down on his shoulder. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt. Mixed with the pleasure of being stroked, the pain was exquisite. He pulled forward, trying to move away but as he did, Gnawgahyde tightened his grip on Metal’s cock, pushing back as he was pushing forward. The feeling, mixed in with the pain took his breath away. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
# # #
Gnawgahyde continued to work Metal-Head’s neck, alternating between soft kisses and rough bites. Metal-Head squirmed in his grip, though judging by the noises he was making this was more from pleasure than a desire to escape.
Gnawgahyde knew he had Metal-Head when the younger man finally relaxed against him, his cock ramrod stiff in Gnawgahyde’s grip, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He eased up, kissing the bite marks on Metal-Head’s shoulder, running his tongue over the sensitized flesh. “Like that?” he asked as Metal-Head moaned again, louder this time.
“Uh-huh,” Metal-Head’s head bobbled again, but his answer was steady. Or as steady as it could be.
“Want to feel something better?”
The head-bobble straightened out. “Yeah,” was the more forceful reply.
Gnawgahyde let Metal-Head go, grabbing the other man’s shoulders and turning him around, bracing him back against the sink. Metal-Head glanced down and for a moment, the fear was back in his eyes. But this time, the other man didn’t shy away. He looked up at Gnawgahyde. “What’re you gonna do?”
Gnawgahyde stepped closer, reaching out to wrap his hand around both their cocks. Metal-Head started to shake again. “Don’t…’ he said, but it was a token protest.
“Shhhh, love,” Gnawgahyde’s voice was a low rumble as he stroked them in unison. “S’not so bad, after all, eh?”
“G..guess not,’ Metal-Head said, keeping his eyes down, staring at Gnawgahyde’s hand as it stroked and teased them. “S’okay…feels...it feels…” Metal-Head looked up at him, shaking his head slightly. ‘Good,’ he said, voice small, making him sound younger than he was. “It feels good.”
Gnawgahyde grinned. “Toldja,’ he said, reaching out to brush Metal-Head’s hair out of his face. “You’re doin’ fine, sport.” He rested his hand on the back of Metal-Head’s neck, massaging him and cradling the back of his head.
Metal-Head looked up at him, a shy grin spreading across his face. “..thanks, I guess..” he said, shifting from foot to foot. “You’re..uh..good too. Real..uhm…experienced…yeah..”
Gnawgahyde smirked. “Thanks,” he said, leaning in to kiss Metal-Head, using the hand on the back of Metal-Head’s neck to hold the other man still. Metal-Head tensed but didn’t struggle. Gnawgahyde let his hand drop, shifting it to run down Metal-Head’s back, patting the other man like he would a dog who performed a trick correctly.
Gnawgahyde opened his mouth, licking at Metal-Head’s lips, using his tongue to try and wedge the other man’s mouth open. When Metal-Head resisted, he slowed the hand stroking their cocks. It took only a few moments for Metal-Head to work out the connection: give Gnawgahyde what he wanted, get a reward.
The kiss was clumsy, Metal-Head was inexperienced and despite Gnawgahyde’s coaxing and his own seeming willingness shied away from anything but the most cursory probe of his mouth. Sooner than he would have liked, Gnawgahyde broke the kiss, pulling back to look at Metal-Head.
“Sorry,” Metal-Head said, sheepishly. The other man looked up at him with fear in his eyes, though it was fear of disappointing Gnawgahyde.
“S’alright,” Gnawgahyde said. “You’re doin’ fine, boy.”
Metal-Head grinned, the expression genuine. “..thanks..”
“Think you’ve earned this,” Gnawgahyde said, releasing their cocks. He leaned in, putting his hands on Metal-Head’s hips and knelt down.
“Whoa, whoa!” Metal-Head said. “What’re you doing?!”
Gnawgahyde looked up. “…don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a blow job before…” Not hard to believe but…damn depressing.
“I have!” Metal-Head said, coloring from head to foot. “Lots of times! Got one…uihmm…like…1987? Only that was from a chick…you’re the first guy. Not that I ever thought about guys doing that before, ‘cause I’m nto gay. Really.”
Gnawgahyde snorted. “Right,” he said, taking Metal-Head’s cock in hand and lapping the head. “If you want me to stop then…”
“Noooooo, that’s okay…” Metal-Head’s eyes had gone wide, his eyebrows had suddenly made base camp near his hairline and his voice cracked like fine china. “You don’t hafta stop..”
Gnawgahyde smirked. “That’s what I thought you’d say,’ he said, leaning in to take Metal-Head fully into his mouth.
# # #
Metal-Head wasn’t thinking clearly. Which, truth be told, was more or less his normal state of mind. The difference was, this time, all the distractions, the internal and external noise, everything that made it so hard to concentrate on anything but the next target, were quiet. There was nothing but the feeling of Gnawgahyde’s mouth on his dick and it was pretty incredible.
No, it was better than incredible. It was on beyond incredible. It was so far ahead of incredible that it was behind it and getting ready to lap it. This was the best sex he’d ever had…which again, wasn’t saying much since his previous conquests had consisted primarily of one insanely frustrating grope-session with Betty Jameson in the eleventh grade. More frustrating for Betty since she’d made the mistake of trying to neck with him at the drive-in during “Masters of the Universe.” Was it his fault she picked a movie he’d actually wanted to see?
Gnawgahyde did something with his tongue that removed all memories of Betty Jameson, drive-ins and Dolph Lungren’s oiled chest from his mind. His hips rocked forward, pushing deeper into Gnawgahyde’s mouth. He could feel his balls raising, getting ready to release.
# # #
Gnawgahyde reached up, wrapping his fingers around the base of Metal-Head’s cock and squeezed, applying just enough pressure to hold off the inevitable for a few minutes longer. It was the kid’s first time, after all, might as well make it memorable.
Metal-Head’s hips bucked again, the other man making a sound that was almost a sob as he was held off. “Please?” he said.
Gnawgahyde pulled back enough so he could speak. “Not yet,” he said, free hand stroking Metal-Head’s outer thigh. “Soon, love.”
“Please?” Metal-Head said again, voice tight, frustrated. “I wanna come.”
“Not yet.” Gnawgahyde’s voice was firm but soothing as he steadied Metal-Head against the sink, keeping one hand around the base of the other’s cock. Metal-Head flinched at the feeling of cool porcelain against his back.
“Hold it,” he said, squirming. “Don’t..”
Gnawgahyde bit back a snarl of frustration. Now was not the time to get angry, no matter how tempting it might be. The kid was nervous, even this close to release. He wants to be talked into it.
Gnawgahyde stroked the side of Metal-Head’s thigh, fingers tracing the taut muscles. Metal-Head shivered at the touch. “Shhhh, love,” he said. “You’re close, just a little bit longer and you’ll be done.” He leaned in, planting a kiss on Metal-Head’s thigh, at the crux of hip and groin. “Don’t you want that?”
“Yes,” Metal-Head said. “But..I..”
“You’re scared,” Gnawgahyde said. “I know, I been there m’self. But this ain’t nothing to be scared of. Just close your eyes an’ relax, Metal-Head.”
“Stuart,” Metal-Head said. “M’name’s Stuart.”
Gnawgahyde grinned, kissing Stuart’s thigh again, running his tounge along the divide between hip and pelvis. “Relax, Stuart,” he said again. “Just close your eyes an’ let me do all the work.”
There was a pause. Gnawgahyde could feel the other man teetering on the edfe of indecision, then, Metal-Head nodded.
# # #
The thought ran through Metal-Head’s mind: If I don’t see it, it didn’t happen. It was a comforting thought, one that had served him well over the years. Boogymen, horror movies, frog dissection in biology class…all he ever had to do was close his eyes and the world went away. This time wouldn’t be any different.
Except that this time the feelings wouldn’t be ignored. Couldn’t be ignored. Gnawgahyde’s mouth was hot on him. Hot and wet, tighter than anything he’d ever felt before. The feeling was great, better than anything he’d ever felt before. Any guilt or doubts he might have felt were soon swamped by the pleasure rolling over him, the feeling of pressure building up to the breaking point.
# # #
Gnawgahyde released his grip on the base of Metal-Head’s cock, pushing himself down on the other man until his lips brushed the area where his fingers had been. Pumping his head back and forth, he let his tongue work the underside of Metal-Head’s cock, coaxing it to finally give up the ghost.
It didn’t take much persuasion. With a groan that ended on a sob, Metal-Head’s hips rocked forward, cum shooting into Gnawgahyde’s mouth. Gnawgahyde fought the reflex to swallow as he continued to coax Metal-Head to finish, milking the other man for all he was worth.
# # #
It was over. Metal-Head leaned heavily against the sink, bracing himself since his legs had suddenly gone wobbly.
“Oh man,” he said, breathlessly. “That was…that was good.”
Gnawgahyde chuckled as he pulled away. ‘You’re welcome,” he said. ‘You weren’t half bad y’self.”
Metal-Head blinked, rapidly. ‘Thanks, liked it,” he said, largely on reflex as he looked down, locking eyes with Gnawgahyde for a moment, the full realization of what he’d done finally hitting him.
“Oh shit,” he said.
# # #
Gnawgahyde looked up into Metal-Head’s face, seeing the look of abject deer-in-headlights terror starting to form on the younger man’s face. He remembered that look and the feeling that went with it. I know what you’re thinking, he thought. And you’re scared shitless that you’re right. Poor wanker.
“You alright?” Gnawgahyde said, though truth be told he knew the answer.
“Uh-huh,’ Metal-Head said after a moment, head bobbling as if it were coming attached from his neck. Gnawgahyde saw the first tears starting to form in the other man’s eyes. “M’cool, s’all good..” Metal-Head’s voice broke on the last.
“C’mere,” Gnawgahyde said, taking the other man’s arm gently, he ushered him over to a shower stall and stepped in long enough to reach over and turn the water on. He set the temperature to just below lukewarm, cold enough to distract but not put further strain on already frazzled nerves. “Put your face in the water. Your need to get some of that eye-sweat out of ‘em.”
Metal-Head did as he was bidden, not resisting as Gnawgahyde stepped into the stall behind him, though he flinched suddenly when the bigger man pulled him back against him.
“Sorry,” he said, voice small. “I…just..I liked...I liked it...am I…”
“You’re not necessarily a Molly,” Gnawgahyde interrupted, leaning over to whisper in Metal-Head’s ear. “Lotta straight guys have gotten their dicks sucked by blokes, doesn’t mean a damn thing. But, if you liked it an’ you want to do it again, you come to my quarters when you’re ready, right? An’ I’ll teach you a few tricks no woman could ever show you.”
Metal-Head nodded, but otherwise didn’t answer. With one last pat to the back, Gnawgahyde left the stall, gathered his things and left the showers.
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But there's something harder about it. Also, you did a really nice job on Gnawghahyde's slang.
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