for my country .

             matt’s hands are warm on his body and alejandro can’t help but feel drawn to that particular warmth. alita’s left his mind for the time being, and alejandro can focus on less unpleasant things. like matt being a smartass, and digging his heels into his back. that’s a good thing to focus on. so is matt’s fingers in his hair, curling there and tugging almost. alejandro wouldn’t mind if matt tugged on his hair. actually, he’d probably like that quite a bit. he’s not going to say that though.                 instead he’s going to roll his hips with a little bit more enthusiasm, a wicked little smile on his lips. he’s already getting hard again, just the idea of an encore was tantalizing. the guilt could wait. it wasn’t like he actually had any raw feelings for matt. that would be ridiculous. this was purely a physical relationship. purely… purely for pleasure. god only knew that alejandro had gone far too long without it. maybe matt had too. they seemed to be pretty goddamn compatible. which was a surprise to alejandro.                 at least at first. now it sort of made sense. alejandro leans forward to nip at matt’s lips, fucking into him a little bit harder with a bit of a grunt. “you’re still th’ puta, matt.” matt is trying to rile him up. alejandro knows this. he knows this and he leans forward to tug at matt’s ear with a particularly hard thrust before he’s pulling back and shoving at matt’s shoulder. alejandro is hardly gentle when he pulls back, hands gripping at matt’s sides to turn him over.                 matt’s seen dogs fuck better than him? alejandro’s going to fuck him like a dog, then. he bites at matt’s shoulder, the one he stabbed the first day they met, like he’s reminding matt that he could probably kill him if he wants. well, maybe not then. alejandro’s mouth is all over matt, teeth and lips cutting paths over his shoulders and his spine, that fire roaring back to life in his chest. matt wants to be fucked. alejandro wants to fuck him. it seems almost inevitable at this point that they’ll be doing this more than just this once.              “good thing i’m not a dog, eh, puta?” it’s growled into matt’s ear as alejandro positions himself to ram right back into him. is it a punishment? for making him think of unpleasant things? or for making him feel? or is this just…. because he wants to feel. and he wants to feel with matt. or maybe he’s punishing himself? it’s far too complicated for alejandro to try and work though, especially when he’s hard and wanting again and matt’s right there, clearly wanting him too. alejandro’s never been good at ignoring his needs, especially recently. 

there he is, the wild dog of a man he’d cornered in the jungle bearing down ruthlessly as if he meant to carve out new parts of him as a trophy. the best part of alejandro is knowing the man won’t complain when matt makes demands. it is just casual physical intimacy that they couldn’t find anything else in their line of work without the threat of a bullet. and so maybe he doesn’t mind riding alejandro’s cock, letting him fuck him hard and fast, because he knows that he doesn’t care how it’s done. at the end of the day it’s both of them getting off, being the one fucked just means more control of the pace.

god knew that there was little else he would do if it meant he remained in control.

even now, even chasing down alejandro’s cock and fucking himself before the other man follows his lead in earnest. matt controls it. with his hands, his thighs, his heels he digs in with desperation as his cock starts filling out against his stomach. a breathless kind of laugh slips free as he spots that grin on alejandro’s face. hell, it’s almost enough to have him pausing just to see if the bastard planned on killing him or fucking him.

instead his toes curl and he bites his lower lip to muffle a groan. “takes one t’know one, cachorro.” it feels sinful, taboo in a way to call alejandro that when he feels in that breathless moment the control is ripped from his fingers. the thrill of it nearly has his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he spreads his legs greedily. teeth rake his shoulder and he can feel alejandro fucking him harder deeper than before nearly making his thighs quake as skin slaps with enough force to set his skin aflame.

a choked cry nearly slips free, his cock hanging embarrassingly hard and heavy with just a few of those ruthless thrusts. hell, in a delirious adrenaline filled second, the thought of being fucked to death by alejandro sounds dangerously appealing. arching back, his breath rattles out sharply, thighs spreading greedily as he takes and takes and takes. better to chase ghosts with pleasure than pain.

now though, now when alejandro chases the line of his back with his mouth, a low moan slips free as he bucks back hard. “maybe you ought to be a dog,” matt pants out with a crooked grin, coaxing that appetite to the surface again with a roll of his hips. he needs alejandro grounded here and now. but matt suspects there’s more to it than he’s willing to confess. either way, down on his hands and knees with alejandro pounds him hard enough to set the bed to creaking.

“least they know how to breed, niñita.” another breathless laugh and he arches, chasing down those hard thrusts greedily. god he was so embarrassingly close, toes curling and dick swaying uselessly. matt looks at him over a shoulder, rocking back hard and nearly groaning louder when alejandro’s cock hits just right. “cmon, cmon cmon cmon--”

fingers twist in the sheets and teeth flash with a grin.

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“there you go, being a little shit again.”

it takes all of five seconds for him to throw the blonde onto his belly and pull him back bodily.

matt scoffs, his hands framing the upturn of kayce’s hips. all it takes is hooking his fingers under denim and cotton to drag them down, baring pale skin. the kid talks a big game, teasing he guesses. typically the unspoken rule was that he could do whatever the hell he wanted as long as kayce didn’t call the safe word (’peaches’ he’d explained once ‘cause why the hell would it come up when they were far more busy than talking about fruit’).

a palm comes down hard, audible, across one cheek of the kid’s pale ass. just enough force to make the slap S T I N G when he does it again for good measure to even both sides. matt watches him, follows movement in the shudder of muscle of kayce’s legs moving. another hard yank and kayce is both bound in place by his jeans and exposed.

a thumb runs down the cleft of his ass, steady hands tugging back his member and hanging balls till they’re framed by his thighs. it was a pretty sight, matt can’t help but think as he gives a taunting stroke to the kid’s cock. a small smile quirks his lips. “looks like you need to get fucked. damn shame you can’t behave, might’ve helped you get relief..” he doesn’t go quicker or slower, stroking him nice and slow with a palm at his hip in quiet warning to behave.

Despite Kayce’s worries, Matt doesn’t even blink in pushing or prodding instead understanding him in his remark. Shoulders slump slightly as the other man invades his space, a silent demand given as those fingers smooth along his jaw. How easy it was to relax under the hand of a man who was better known as a killer than most anything else. Lashes fluttered as feet lead him closer, a quiet sigh escaping the blond.

“I know, Matt. I fuckin’ know that. Just…can’t do it now.” A quiet drawl of words given as Kayce settled against Matt, hands sneaking out to entwine within the fabric of his shirt. There was just something about the other man that always had Kayce come back to him in the end.

“If goin’ back inside means you take off the fuckin’ hat, I’m game for it.”

kayce knew more than most about the nature of matt’s work. yet still the kid was here, forehead pressing almost against his shoulder as they stand together. god what must they look like, him in a ridiculous stetson and flip flops in front of the motel pool gradually turning green. but this was where he lived while on the move, while living as a ghost. he can’t promise kayce forever but he can give the kid here and now.

even if kayce was still armored with soft spoken lies and puppy dog eyes.

matt scoffs softly, letting his hand at his jaw drop down to a shoulder so he can bring him in for a sort of half hug. it’s more than most get out of him. he isn’t a man for comforting or codling and maybe that’s why kayce keeps coming back again and again. funny thinking how the pretty blond was only supposed to be a messy one night stand to establish his cover.

and now--

“like hell, you rude shit.” laughter comes easier this time and despite his words, the stetson is placed atop the mess of blonde hair. matt smiles, taking kayce’s ball cap and shoving it in his back pocket. exchanging hostages was the least he could do.

There was no denying the fear and concern in Kayce’s gaze, a man left grappling for some sense of support despite the obvious care and comfort from the man before him. Matt wasn’t someone who would coo soft words and coddle him–no. He was a man that was eager to be straightforward and offer violence over solution, something that Kayce had an affinity for.

A quiet huff escaped Kayce, hair ruffled as the hat is YANKED from his head and leaving the blond truly vulnerable. Hands stay solid in the pockets of his coat, keeping the only armor left close to his chest. Lies are the only thing left for Kayce to truly defend himself with.

But even then, Matt could read him like a book.

“There ain’t no one, Matt. I just got into a fight at the bar–that’s all that fuckin’ happened, alright?”

some part of him knows he could rip away everything kayce was in order to find answers. all it would take was a phone call and the kid’s life would scoured until there was nothing left except for the secrets in that blond head. but that’s the problem with getting involved with civilians, you can’t raise holy hell and solve it within a week. it takes time. takes energy. standing there looking at kayce, matt sees a fight worth getting in over his head for to win.

the kid is the first real good thing he has that isn’t soaked in blood.

“sure.” 

a step closer and he can almost smell the shampoo kayce uses, sickly sweet in the hot summer air. steady fingers knock at the kid’s jaw, gentle yet commanding. ‘look at me’ he says with his hands, one settling at the small of kayce’s spine and pulling him in close until they’re damn near chest to chest. if it were anyone else matt might have been intimidating pulling them in so close and so quick.

lips press to kayce’s temple and his words come out a quiet growl.

“you want to stick to your story that’s your call darlin’ but when the hurt gets worse there better be some answers.” matt keeps his hold, pressed damn near cheek to cheek as he lets it sink it slow. laughter comes out in a rolling huff. his thumb works a slow circle down kayce’s spine.

            sometimes it feels like they’ve aged far past their years. they’ve done quite a lot together over the years. ten years feels like… a lifetime. they were different men when they started this. alejandro had been feral, he thinks. perhaps he still is. but he’s not around matt. not anymore. sometimes he thinks he might be soft. a terrifying thought, really. alejandro’s eyes follow matt’s flip-flops as they hit the floor with some rather satisfying slaps. he tracks his movements across the apartment and part of him wishes they could be somewhere that doesn’t look like it’s about to fall apart. his fingers leave the rifle on the table and he twists just a little, accepting matt’s presence in his space.                 alejanddro’s eyes flutter closed at the touch of fingers to his cheek. matt has a point, of course. he is always here. alejandro suspects he always will be. he lets out a quiet little sigh, comfort seeping into his very soul at the touches.                 they’ve been through hell. but the road is long, and alejandro doesn’t want to think about there being an end at all, because that means, potentially, losing what he has. matt’s fingers are in his hair and alejandro lets out another sigh of contentment, fingers brushing along matt’s hips as he moves out of his space, eyes following matt across the very dingy apartment. matt says that he’s human. it sends a shudder down his spine. he doesn’t like to think about that because humans can break. how many have died at his hands like they were nothing?                but then… matt’s human too. and he’s the strongest man that alejandro has ever met. he shifts, moving to stand and silently pad across the run down apartment. he touches at matt’s side. words, he doesn’t think, will cut what he has to say. so he needs to share a look with him. one that says ‘thank you. i appreciate you.’ he knows it’d sound stupid if he says it. he noses at his jaw just once, a nuzzle, and presses a kiss there.              “coffee?” they have a new mission. they’re supposed to meet a green civil servant for assistance over the boarder. it feels like a big job. the one that alejandro’s been waiting for. this, he thinks, is going to be a big one. 

there was something horribly terribly domestic and jarring in the way alejandro murmurs an offer for coffee. lord knows matt would find a way to burn it. they know each other but are still learning, still growing accustomed to how they move in the space both left without realizing for the other. matt, to his credit, has learned that a touch at his spine careful and brief was no cause for flinching or breaking wrists. and alejandro --

well, his shoulder was still stiff some days as a reminder of how far they’ve come.

it sets him on edge how easy it is to card his hands through dark hair when ten years prior it would have earned him a threatening glance. oh the thrill of it, knowing he is allowed this sight, these sounds. for a human, alejandro was nothing short of terrifying some days. it was no wonder matt assumed the other man had a hard time differentiating between the fine line of monster and soldier. he sees that look, the one that softens alejandro’s face and makes him look so much younger that his chest aches from it. matt knows what it means, the weight of it.

more jokes and sarcasm bubble up on his tongue dying before he has a chance to speak. coffee, he thinks, would be far more preferable than addressing the taut feeling simmering in his chest. but it still jars him, still catches his breath just a little when alejandro is tender as this searching out quiet affection and offering his own.

not for the first time matt wishes he knew the man this war ruined.

“yeah,” a small tug of fingers and he spares a side long glance at the man at his side. “coffee seems as good a start as any.” peru was shaping up to be just as unfriendly as the rest of south america but at least they were able to make waves with smaller motions. save a green civil servant, rumors of testimony arises, the idiots keeping from doing their job would be so busy pulling their pants up they wouldn’t notice them.

“got word the package won’t arrive until zero eight hundred.” a pause and he hums thoughtfully, “apparently he’s shy around americans so you’ll be on point.” another glance, this one questioning, asking if alejandro would be alright with only matt covering him unseen with his rifle.

              matt grabs his arm and alejandro finds himself easing back down onto the bed. the jungle heat has seeped into the hut, settling over them, damp and almost unappealing. alejandro supposes it’s not so different from the heat they just created. ‘too much noise,’ matt says and alejandro curses mentally. of course it is. he thinks, for a moment, about how they got here. he thinks about matt pinning him in the trees and kissing him and how alejandro hadn’t pushed him off because god he’d needed to feel something that wasn’t emptiness for a little while and matt’s been so very good at doing that lately. that’s why he thinks they work so good together. alejandro’s eyes slip to watch matt’s fingers on his wrist.                 he moves with matt easily, letting him wind his legs around him. matt’s kiss still lingers on his lips, promising something and alejandro’s stomach twists again, that guilt pushing back again. his lips twitch. why does he want this so very badly.                there’s a slow smile on matt’s lips and alejandro shoves back that guilt, chasing, perhaps, the desire to feel something that’s not the guilt or the emptiness surges up in him again. there’s a tickling at the back of his mind. the kind that tells alejandro that this is not going to be just some fix for a little while. this feels like something a little bit more. alejandro doesn’t have the time or desire to address that just yet.                 instead he grins right back, a lopsided little thing, “you are a puta.” alejandro leans in just a little, shifting to position himself over matt a little bit better. “will you bite me for other reasons?” he likes it, he’s found. mixing the two. adding pleasure with the pain is… delightful. alejandro hasn’t had much experience, not really, but… this is fine. good, actually. alejandro didn’t want to think about the last time he felt so damn good. it’s a good feeling to chase. he leans in steal a rather hungry kiss. alita disappears from the corner of his eye and alejandro almost feels a sort of sense of relief washing over him. 

there this is better, the thought hangs on his tongue ready to betray him as he lets loose the breath he’d kept captive in his lungs. a part of him expected alejandro to pull away and scoff. a sane man probably wouldn’t stay curled up in sheets and legs and hands. alejandro didn’t seem quite sane some days though so it was par for the course. matt watches him, sees shadows and thoughts moving about and he wonders not for the first time what alejandro sees. the man is impossible to read, matt has been struggling at learning the language of him and wound up only finding words to incite passion and fury.

something satisfying, real satisfying, when alejandro follows where his hands move and the language of their hands starts to make sense. like finally there is some semblance of communication between them even if it was a ‘jesus finally you listen without me ordering you’ on matt’s part.

“if you’re a smartass i’ll bite you for fun.”

later he can unpack the concern and worry of getting too close to an asset. matt is almost certain the CIA doesn’t sanction their agents to straddle their assets and ride them hard enough to bruise. or for them to shove sheets aside and take their asset’s cocks to pull them inside with a sighing breath. it’s exhilerating throwing the rulebook in the trash and letting alejandro devour his mouth.

his hands work down coiled muscle, pulling alejandro closer as his heels dig in at the small of his back. matt laughs on his mouth, feels the way alejandro fills out slow but certain inside as he rolls his hips to force him deeper all at once. fingers twist in dark hair and he looks up at alejandro, sees the shadows dissipate. ‘good, you’re finally here’ he nearly sighs, arching further and groaning out low when alejandro sinks in deeper.

“now who’s the puta huh? i’ve seen dogs do this better than you.”

“You know damn well it is.” 

A dry remark given as the blond stood before Matt, black cap pulled on his head with the brim facing the back. Kayce had been missing that specific cowboy hat for months now, finding that he had need of it as the summer months crept closer. It’s no wonder that Matt managed to hold it hostage, given that his time was spent more and more with the older man.

The smallest glimmer of a smile tugged at Kayce’s lips, head tilting at the other man as he considered Matt’s words carefully. They’d been together for the past several months on and off, having become more acquainted as time passed. Those moments still hadn’t accounted for the fact that the blond was hiding truths from Matt. The bruises and marks–things Kayce was ashamed of more often than not.

And today? Today, Kayce has more than a few bruises painting his ribs.

“Gonna have to pass then and let you keep it, Matt. I don’t have time to seduce you today.”

of course matt knew that the hat was kayce’s hell, he’d plucked it right off the floor the last time the blond graced him with his presence as if it’d been a trophy. for the night they had? matt felt it was the least he could ask for as a prize. but now the hat feels like a promise and less of something to gloat about possessing. the stetson remains securely on his head and his eyebrow rises to meet it just a fraction.

that was the talent he had, spotting trouble long before trouble had a name.

pulling out that taboo little turn of phrase usually had the blond smiling shyly then scuffing his boots against the concrete. it reminded matt of a colt sizing up a fresh filly that went into heat. and maybe that’s why the absence of it, the way kayce’s eyes never quite reach his own has matt on edge. chewing the toothpick between his lips a moment longer, he gives the kid a thoughtful kind of once over.

no nervous colt today, no, he’s shy looking ready to bolt. matt has seen it countless times during his walkabouts way down south. it is the same look in the face of women seconds after soldiers waltzed through and destroyed their lives.

“who is it?” a pause and his boots hit the concrete instead. it’s a day of firsts -- this time matt is the one that rises up and steps closer. the ridiculous ball cap is stolen with an outstretched hand and tossed aside to the rickety glass table. it served a better purpose as a hat rack than a foot stool.

fingers grip light at kayce’s chin, coaxing those eyes back toward him. matt feels that slight tug, a reminder he wasn’t as stone as the world made him out to be -- a part of him cares what happens to kayce.

a truth. rare and fragile hanging between them.

matt looks up then, he is thirty-eight and still doesn’t feel half as old as alejandro looks in that moment with the assault rifle forgotten on the rickety table in the rickety apartment in peru. they’re almost on ten years serving together and matt has yet to be called back in from the yard where he plays with the CIA’s new dog. his hands still in cleaning the revolver on the table, fingers messy with gun oil.

both of them forgot what it meant to be human after a while.

maybe they were both dogs, chasing each other around the yard until one of them came back yelping when the leash was pulled too tightly around their throats. after all, who would inspire such devotion and loyalty that alejandro would threaten the very united states government just to get him back from bolivia. he’s kicking off flip flops and walking barefoot across the rickety wooden floor until there is no distance left between them.

fingertips leave smears of gunpowder residue at alejandro’s cheek when he turns that face upward. there was something haunting in those eyes, a pain that wouldn’t ease up. and yet -- and yet -- matt bends down and presses a chaste kiss to his mouth at first. but then his lips alight to his cheeks and finally press to his forehead. his hand cards through dark hair and cradles alejandro’s head close as his lips press to his temple.

“well if you ever forget, i’ll remind you.”

a brief sort of smile is given and his hand drops to alejandro’s shoulder, a gentle squeeze given to tensed muscle. “it’s kind of a relief,” he says over his shoulder as he turns, walking to their small rickety kitchenette and rummaging through supplies.

         matt, of course, is flippant. they’ve been dancing around each other since they got here and at first alejandro had been pretty damn sure it was because they were both like caged animals who need to jab and fight before they form stronger bonds, but now alejandro wasn’t so sure. he lay on the mat, staring at the ceiling of their little hut from where he landed after matt shoved at his face like that. his mouth is dry. they’ve been saving each other’s necks and working together side by side, and he can’t help but feel a little tug somewhere inside that cavity he calls a chest when matt smiles at him. like he is now. even if he’s just said something rather cutting. people fuck all the time, he says. like alejandro is people and he fucks all the time. no. he’s not people and he doesn’t fuck all the time. it stings a little.             alejandro rests a hand on his chest and drags his gaze away from the ceiling to study matt’s face until he ruffles his hair. alejandro rolls his eyes, whatever other words he was going to say got swallowed right down. what would he say anyway? ‘this is the first time i’ve slept with someone since alita was decapitated right in front of me.’ somehow that didn’t sound right. ‘fuck you, matt. this is a big deal for me.’ that didn’t sound right either. matt drags the sheet up over the both of them and alejandro rolls over onto his side to watch the door instead, lips pursed into a thin line.             the ethics of all of this were… fuzzy, at best. alejandro swallows hard and tries to put everything into a less annoying and confusing perspective. ‘it’s just a fuck.’ he tells himself. one they’d clearly both needed. it felt, of course, a little bit like more than that.            it’s here that the guilt punches alejandro right in the stomach. his fingers curl around the top of the sheet and clench so hard that his knuckles press white and threatening against his skin. alita. how could he forget alita? if even for a second? he’s replaying the last time he kissed her. her blood spilling on the asphalt, the way he kicks and writhes in their arms, but they just laugh at him. alejandro doesn’t want to think about these things. not right now. he rolls over to face matt, dragging the sheet with him, eyes locked on his profile, tracing every inch of him that he can see.          “can’t sleep.” guilt gnaws at his stomach lining. alejandro squirms. sleep is… not going to be kind to him today. he sits up, letting the sheet pool around his waist. for a moment he could swear he sees alita in the corner of his eye, staring at him with dead eyes, head barely attached, staring at him, accusations on her lips, unmoving and purple in their death. alejandro swings his legs off to the side, over the edge of their little cot, and moves to pull his pants back on. “voy a mejorar con el rifle.” matt was free to join him. 

jesus, sometimes he should know when to keep quiet. it was habit to deflect with sarcasm or blunt words. matt can taste the regret boiling up like an old wound picked clean. laying there, a part of him wonders what is going through alejandro’s head. it’s not as thought he sleeps with all his assets much less makes a habit of sleeping with men. his pride is too stubborn to allow him to do more than watch, to let his eyes skim over slowly across fresh bruises he’d left at alejandro’s body.

‘you idiot.’

the guy was no doubt taking his words to heart, caught in guilt and who knew what demons lurking behind his eyelids. matt scrubs a hand across his face. this was turning out to becoming something that would either grow or rot between them. something dangerous. a part of him regrets kissing alejandro in the dense underbelly of the jungle, shoving until something stuck and alejandro gasped long enough for him to take advantage.

dark eyes land upon the curve of his spine, noting scars here and there. things he had felt moments earlier but not seen. alejandro is a warm presence at his side, moving yet oh so close. but then his expression twists for a rare moment, fingers catching his wrist. it’s easy to drag alejandro back towards him, on top of him.

“too much noise,” matt murmurs, keeping hold of alejandro’s arm in case he thinks of running away. “tomorrow you’ll get plenty of practice.” there was a small army between them and columbia, target practice wouldn’t be in high demand and they were safe here hidden away from sight and sound. swallowing hard, he almost apologizes. almost. instead he sees that guilt mirrored back at him and lets go slowly.

“if you can’t sleep,” a pause as if he’s considering the options, as if he hadn’t thought this through already, “maybe you should come back to bed and give me an encore. first one just curbed my appetite.” as if the way he dragged alejandro roughly into a kiss didn’t mean something dangerous. matt offers a slow sort of smile, thighs trapping him close.

for the first time he can remember, matt doesn’t have some witty comeback that he feels like using. sure, he could remark upon what the dossier had said when they’d shipped him off to recruit. what he didn’t expect was going five years off the grid in paraguay going gun fight to gun fight. what he sure as hell didn’t expect was that his recruit would end up saving his life half a dozen times.

somehow falling into bed just made sense when it came to someone as mysterious as alejandro gillick. hell he never thought he’d like sleeping with a man. but now -- now everything shifted and he needed to hide how off balance he felt.

so, he scoffs, shoving the other man’s face away with a note of playfulness and rolling onto his side instead. it makes it easier to push down that conflicting feeling festering slowly at his chest. “people fuck all the time,” he mutters half-heartedly as he catches his breath. turning onto his other side allows him to look at alejandro in the dim moonlight of the hut they’d found in the jungle. sheets were down around their ankles and matt has the urge to reach out and touch.

“it was...”

‘good. wonderful. best sex i’ve had in a while.’ matt smiles at him, shy and earnest without thinking. fingers ruffle the other man’s dark hair before he sits up, tugging the thin sheet over both of them. 

oh he had almost forgotten where he had procured the white stetson atop his head until the kid comes rolling up. his motel was becoming busier these days. an easy sort of smile curls on his lips as he runs his fingers nice and slow along the brim. dark eyes challenge kayce, as if daring him to do something about it.

“huh, this old thing is yours?” 

he leans back, letting his hand fall away and tips it back to flaunt his prize. matt smiles and puts his croc clad feet up on the shitty glass table regardless of how it rattles under the movement. both feet now, crossed at the ankles and his fingers crossed behind his head.

“well...”

oh how he drawls that simple little word, making it hang heavy in the summer air. his smile is saccharine and he gives a pat to his thigh.

                later they’ll be different men. or perhaps the same men in different situations. later they’ll talk about all the things that ruined them in the last two years. maybe he’d show matt what happened to him in the light, let him see the scars on his cheek, see why he couldn’t come back right away. maybe they’ll drink coffee and if alejandro is very lucky, matt will let him rub circles on his knuckles. he’ll listen. matt’s already said sorry with his hands. alejandro doesn’t need the words. what he needs is matt. and he has him. he’s warm and heavy in his lap, his hands are on him, his scent fills every sense that alejandro has. he’s floating, he thinks, somewhere. somewhere different where it’s just the two of them and nothing else.                     matt knows exactly how to work him, how to stroke his cock and whisper naughty things that have him turning pink. alejandro can’t remember the last time he’d turned pink for anyone else. his face is so warm he thinks it must be on fire, but matt’s kisses are soothing. alejandro knows he’s home. that’s what this is. the realization dawns on him rather slowly, here, on matt’s couch, with this man in his arms.                     alejandro helps where he can, pushing at clothing, grinning at the sound of buttons hitting the floor. they never were entirely gentle. alejandro doesn’t think they’re capable of that. they’re creatures of war. made to fight. made to hurt and kill. and they only cease here, tangled together like this. matt’s boots dig into his sides and alejandro lets out another long, soft, groan. matt’s earned that, at least.                     the both of them are running on fumes, fueled by the fire to get back what they’d lost, even if it had been only temporary. they belong together. he knows that for damn sure. it’s not felt right with anyone else since… this is not the time for dark thoughts and old wounds that will never quite heal. this is for connecting themselves again. feeling, again. alejandro shudders under matt as he slicks him up, talks about feeling him in his belly, fucking him until they both feel something that’s more that the emptiness alejandro’s been feeling. his missing piece is settled on his hips, pants pulled down to his knees, shirtless and beautiful. alejandro helps as much as he can, easing matt’s hips down, his name a prayer on his lips as his tight heat envelopes him. his toes curl in his boots, fingers gripping at matt like he’s worried he’ll lose him,                     matt teases him. tells him he’ll make waffles with strawberries if he’s a good boy and he grunts his affirmative. he’ll be anything for matt. anything he needs. anything at all. his teeth find the place connecting matt’s neck and shoulder, hips raising just a little as if fucking into him anymore will make matt even more his. there’s heat in his belly grows with every single one of matt’s movements. he’s worried, of course, about matt hurting himself like this, but at present his mind is so filled with thoughts of matt and cotton and pleasure the he can hardly bring himself to check in. fingers dig into his back, dragging down hard, so nails dig into his skin. alejandro’s bite is hardand needy and he tugs just a little before soothing the area with his tongue, brow furrowed, lips trembling.                     he repositions his mouth and bites again, a gentle hand coming up to brush over that familiar mark, the mark that he’d left him, that started all of this. he whimpers, wet and desperate against matt’s skin as sloppy kisses pepper the curve of his neck and the top of his shoulder.                     the amount of relief his entire body and his mind feel just adds to every bit of pleasure that he can feel, down to his toes, tingling. every inch of him is tingling. “i’ll be– - anythin’ you want… give you anythin’ you want– - fuck, matt….” alejandro’s knuckles are white as he grips at matt’s bare skin, coaxing him closer, hips moving with matt’s.                     it’d take death to pull him away from matt right now, he thinks. or ever again. there was never any question that he would be staying here. or… maybe there had been. alejandro had been rather worried that matt would tell him to leave. that, of course, went right out the window, the minute matt had kissed him like he wanted to feed him his soul.                     he’d take that. and anything after. he’d give his back too. what was left of it, that mangled mess. alejandro’s teeth found matt’s earlobe, a hand slipping between them to wind around his warm, heavy cock, stroking him in time with matt’s movements. 

just like clockwork, coming together and ripping each other apart. matt feels alive in these moments where he doesn’t care about anything but the sensation of alejandro being so fucking desperate his nails rake angry red lines down his spine. hell, to him it’s art. to turn that usually cool skin fever warm and flushed. oh and to feel the filthy way it makes alejandro’s cock twitch alive deep inside? matt wants to laugh, manic and desperate, and utterly ruined. what passes through his mind, matt wonders as he rides him hard, as he rocks his body up and down towards some kind of revelation.

maybe he just wants to delay the inevitability of his own hungering appetite turning him into a goddamn animal rutting with desperation.

matt knows he’ll die for that easy grin, those hands scrambling at his body and his clothes. even when alejandro touched him tenderly he thinks back to moments like these. tangled up and restrained by clothes and impatience until matt can only follow where those hands guide him. war made them who they were; animals meant to eat, fight, and fuck. war brought them crashing violently into each other to this moment where he is gasping and groaning in tandem with alejandro, hips bucking harder to chase pleasure down. two years feels like two seconds when he’s stealing panting breath for his own, forehead to forehead as he braces himself with a possessive grip at the crook of his neck. hell, he’s certain that if given the chance he would crawl inside alejandro’s body just to be consumed by him.

pain and pleasure have his eyes nearly rolling back.

of course alejandro would know just what to do, just how to get his body clenching desperate around his cock like he was meant to do this just for him. matt chokes out a strangled sort of cry when teeth sink down, claiming, marking. god it’d been so long and now alejandro was biting again harder that nearly has his balls pulling up tight and spilling cum messily between them. there are fingers pressing to the scar at his shoulder and his fingers twist in answer at alejandro’s hair. matt does nothing save hold him close, an arm curled tight around him and fingers carded through dark sweaty hair. “i know,” matt chokes out, hoarse and panting, ears burning from the sound of their bodies slapping together faster now. harder. because he knows there will be bruises on them both.

pleasure spirals hotter in his skin the moment alejandro touches his dick and it is some kind of minor miracle that he doesn’t spill his cum between those fingers. now matt laughs, nosing against his cheek and arching so he can drive his body down harder until he’s almost sure alejandro is re-arranging some part of his body so only he’ll fit once they’re done. the thought of it has him rambling, mouth biting and licking at a flushed ear as each hard roll of his hips knocks the air out of him.

“you can feel it can’t you? how deep you are?” sweat beads down his spine as he reaches back, bracing himself with a hand on alejandro’s knee and a parting nip to his ear. arching back gives alejandro a lewd show, forces his cock to drive harder, matt’s abdomen swelling outwards with the effort. “jesus look at that jandro — you an’ that thick cock of yours gonna ruin me.” dark eyes dance in the half shadows, matt bites his own lip to hold back a downright whorish moan when one good roll of his hips damn near has him seeing stars. they both know he would let alejandro use him if he wanted but matt knows that there is only so much he’ll do here without getting frustrated and throwing him bodily into whatever position he needed.

matt’s gaze is soft, burning along the sight of alejandro in the dim light. there’s so much to say and nothing at all that needs to be uttered. he’s always known that but he feels it keenly right now, right when alejandro’s cock slides in nice and deep and perfect and has his eyes rolling back. “oh fuck, jandro…r-right there, yeah fuck me right there.” a choking breath wars with a whorish moan as the hand not bracing his weight settles over alejandro’s over the thick angry swell of his own cock. “cmon cmon you want to do it…breed me till i’m choking on your cum,” a half growled demand, a sign of how close he was to tipping over. the filth of it reserved for him alone, for alejandro to hear and feel on his skin.

leaning forward allows him to move faster and matt does so until the slapping of their bodies is near in tandem with his heart thundering in his ears. “yeah you like when i tell you how good your cock feels don’t you jandro? you like knowing how thick and hot you feel fucking me.” truths whispered huskily, breathlessly. matt’s eyes nearly close and he can feel it, the moment his body clenches tight and hungry around alejandro’s cock with thick white slicks their fingers. a shaking groan is muffled in alejandro’s shoulder. “fuck…fuck want you t’keep fucking me like this.” brown eyes meet matching hues and his smile is damn near wild with a heady mix of pleasure and delight.

“you feels so good when you fill me up like your own personal whore.” a stolen kiss. matt bites alejandro’s lower lip and presses forehead to forehead. “want you to fuck me like you want to break me. don’t you dare stop till you fill me up to bursting.” talking was for normal people, the ones that could slide seamlessly in and out of service. not them. not after two years apart. matt meets those dark eyes and feels that pleasure roiling up sharp and intense as ever. ‘you know i missed you right?’ a chaste kiss, noses brushing, and matt gives another roll of his hips.

an answering scoff is given as he regards the kid splayed out on the shitty floral print of the bedspread.

the illusion of a gunshot rings outside and reminds him of when he was younger, more naive. just like this dumb blond he’d managed to get back here in his room. just a truck misfiring. not bolivia or marrakesh where he’d watched good men get gunned down. just him and this kid in some shitty motel in the armpit of wisconsin where no one would find them even if they looked for him. his gaze is heavy on the blond, taking in how his chest heaved and the smell of him permeated over the lingering scent of smoke.

“yeah,” he takes a step from the window back towards the bed.

“whatever you say kid.”

tugging free his belt, he knocks aside the blond’s legs spreading them wide as he steps closer, deftly pulling down the zipper of his jeans. a nod is given towards the headboard and he grins slowly. “why don’t you get rid of those pants and show me what we’re working with first?” a knee slides up between those thighs, applying firm pressure as he pulls free his own shirt and lazily begins popping the buttons free.

“hell, you can even call me daddy if that’s what get you hot.” a breathless sort of laugh slips free. “you look the type that enjoys it, being used.” matt gives a patt to one of the kid’s thighs and drops his shirt to the ground.