#ask-jackal

It started out as a joke. Honestly. Neither of them meant it. Jackal had just said that, if they were to get married, the sex wouldn't be half bad. The agreement came quickly and without so much as a blink from the captain. Then joking turned into more of a...well, it was more like flirtatious banter. From there, it became and idea, the idea a desire.

It started out as a joke and somehow turned into something they both want. Badly. There is no denying the attraction. John is, without a doubt, a good looking man. A very good looking man. That's something Jackal can appreciate. Soap's never actually entertained the idea of being physically attracted to the other man. Between the struggle to find Makarov, getting shot, Ghost going MIA for a while, and a lengthy recovery, there hadn't been much time for sex at all. That coupled with the fact that he hadn't seen Jackal without his mask more than once or twice--if even that much--therefore the opportunity to judge his looks had never been at the forefront of the captain's mind.

But now that they're face to face...face to balaclava, the urge to peel the mask off is itching at John without end. Tentatively, he reaches out. Fingers trace the edge of the tan fabric and are just about to hook beneath it when Jackal instinctively shoves his hand away.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

Hesitance. A slight shuffle. Jackal's not sure he wants to let Soap see him. He's not at all one to let people past the mask. But, John's going to be persistent. 

"You weren't just being a tease were you?"

"You're not going to talk the whole time, are you?" 

"Touchy."

The door slams shut and is locked hastily with shaking fingers. Before Jackal can even turn to properly face Mactavish, he's pressed against the door. Lips find the shell of his ear and hands travel to the front of Jackal's pants, tugging at his belt. "Going a bit fast, aren't we, sir?" Jackal snickers. The quip earns a bite to the neck. There's a general scrabble against the door before John finds himself with his back to the wall. "Not that I'm complaining."

John grips Jackal by the hair and drags him into a bruising kiss. Nothing about getting undressed is coordinated or sensual. In fact, John can't quite sort out if he pulled off his own shirt or if Jackal did it for him. He also can't recall whether he was the one to push Jackal down on the bed or if he himself had been dragged there. Doesn't matter. 

John drags his tongue along the hollow of Jackal's throat, grinning when the other man fails at fighting back a moan. He kisses the spot. Drags his teeth along it. Anything to fight a reaction out of the man pinned beneath him. Jackal realizes his situation; John's actually under the impression that he's going to be topping and not Jackal. As if he's allow that. With a powerful shove, Jackal gets Soap off of him and clambers on top. "You can't seriously think you're going to fuck me." 

John gasps a bit when Jackal grinds his hips down ruthlessly against his. "I told you...I'm topping."

"And I'm telling you, 'no, you're not." Jackal drags his hands down John's chest, digging his nails in slightly and kissing the angry read marks left behind. Like he'd guessed, Mactavish likes it rough.

John, however, does not like the idea of Jackal dominating him. He plants a hand on the other man's sternum and fixes him with a hard look. "I said it first."

"Oh yes, you said it first. Of course. How fucking silly of me." Jackal rolls his eyes. Again, he grinds his hips forward. Again, John can't help but hiss with pleasure. Hands fumble. There's the metallic clink of belt buckles being undone and tossed to the floor. Then they're clashing again, practically wrestling to get on top of the other.

John nips Jackal's collarbone, managing to slip out of his traps and pin the man on his stomach. Panting raggedly, John runs his hands down Jackal's back, grinning. "Gotta hand it to you, you're one of the most impressive men I've been with."

"Been with a lot of men?" Jackal turns his head so he can see the captain. 

"I don't have to answer that." 

Jackal rolls over, grabbing John by the shoulders and using his momentum to knock the other man off balance. In an instant, Mactavish finds himself on his back, Jackal looming over him with his arms crossed, clad in only his undergarments. Which leave very little to the imagination. "And I don't have to answer to you. I'm not bottoming you, sir. There are other means of getting satisfaction elsewhere and I have no qualms with pursuing them."

Mactavish grumbles something beneath his breath and sits up, grabbing Jackal by the hips and dragging him forward. There's a heavy moan when John plants his lips against the apparent bulge in Jackal's briefs and he smirks triumphantly. "Fine. But don't think this means I'm giving into you, Jackal. I'm not going to make this easy on you."

"Didn't ask you to, now did I?" Jackal knots his fingers in John's hair. 

There's another vie for power. John drags Jackal onto the bed and flips him onto his back while the other fights against it, trying to keep the upper hand. But, as soon as John's hands start tugging at Jackal's underwear, the struggle is over.

Featherlight kisses are planted down the inside of his thighs and Jackal is just about to comment on how good it feels to be babied when John bites rather roughly at his hipbone. Jackal actually has to bite his lip in order to keep it down with that one. John grins and the man beneath him scowls back. "Just get to it." He plants a hand on the back of the captain's head. "Sir." 

Mactavish licks his lips predatorily. Slides his hand beneath the waistband of Jackal's underwear. Tugs it down only slightly and sucks at the exposed skin. Jackal groans and pushes at his head, trying to move him along faster. John's not having any of that, though. His tongue swirls over Jackal's stomach. Hands brush over his crotch. Teeth scrape lightly at his skin. It's a myriad of sensations and Jackal's brain can't seem to sort them out. 

Which is exactly Mactavish's goal. For now he's got Jackal's complete compliance. Best make good use of it.

Jackal has to breathe in short puffs as John slides their underwear off, watching through half-lidded eyes as John lowers his head. A groan as his tongue flicks along Jackal's length. Breathlessness as he takes the whole thing into his mouth. "F-Fuck, you're good at that."

A soft hum is the only response. Jackal closes his eyes and clings to the bedsheets, trying not to give Soap the gratification of having him moan. He can only fight against it so long. Bastard really knows what he's doing. Sweat collects on his forehead from the struggle and, eventually, Jackal finds himself unable to hold in the raw moan when John deep-throats him. "Fucking hell..." He reaches down and tugs Mactavish up and off of him, then into a bruising kiss.

John steps back onto the bed, between Jackal's legs, and reaches over head to fumble through his drawer, all the while refusing to break contact with the other man. He finds what he's looking for; a bottle of lube and a condom packet. Just as John breaks away to rip the packet open, Jackal does the math. "Hell no." He snatches the condom. "I'm. Topping."

"Like hell you are."

"I will kick your ass and stick you in the hallway without your trousers, captain." Jackal spits. 

They glare at each other vehemently. "You're killing the mood." John grumbles.

"There's no 'mood', captain. Just shut up and get on the edge of the bed or I will kick you out of it."

Muttering obscenities under his breath, John slides off of Jackal and to the edge of the bed, leaning over it and bracing himself with both hands. Jackal rolls off the mattress and trots around behind Mactavish, slapping his ass lightly. He tears the foil open with his teeth and rolls the condom on. "Why are we using this anyways? Aren't you on the pill?"

John scoffs. "Hurry it up or I'm leaving by my own choice."

"Touchy." Jackal pops the lid on the lube and slicks himself quickly, trying to keep his eagerness from getting the better of him. It's not everyday he gets laid. Especially when on duty. 

It's awkward at first, both men trying to force their pace on the other. Neither wants to sacrifice their own desires to give the other what they want. Finally, they find a rhythm that suits them both. Rough. Demanding. Raw. John grips the bedsheets, knuckles going white. He grits his teeth. "Shit..." 

Jackal bites his lip, squeezing John's hips tightly. "Y-Yeah?"

"Don't...make me patronize you...by asking for it harder." Mactavish manages between gasps. 

Jackal grunts in response. Readjusts his angle. Growls softly. "Damn you're tight..."

John just gasps, reaching back with one hand and dragging Jackal down to kiss him. From the strained angle they're forced into it's awkward. Sloppy. Doesn't matter. They're getting what they want. 

Dominance. In their own way, they've got to have it. Got to get it. Ends justify the means. Mactavish has completely taken over the kiss and is directing it in any which way he pleases. Jackal's got the pace. Every now and then, they try to overpower the other and have both. But it's never enough. Doesn't matter. 

Jackal finishes first, growling deeply and breaking away from Soap's kiss, digging his teeth into the curve of his shoulder. There's a sudden spike in speed to the pace. All sense of rhythm  is lost. Just 'go'. As he moans out, Jackal tries not to think about how he's going to catch hell for cumming first. Well, maybe not too much hell, because John's whining into the mattress. Gripping the sheets like they're the only anchor to life. Swearing softly. Panting. Sitting up to kiss him.

The awkward shuffle to situate themselves. A clink of a lighter. 

"You're not supposed to smoke in here."

"You want one?"

"Open the window, at least." Jackal ties off the condom and it's tossed into the waste basket. 

Fresh air fills the room. Then a mix of that and smoke. An oddly comfortable sort of silence overwhelms the air. 

"You sure you don't want one?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." 

John lays back, cigarette perched between his teeth and his eyes closed. The sheet is pulled up just far enough to hide his hips. A sense of serenity is resting on his face. Something Jackal's never seen on him. Usually, the captain's expression is hard. Controlled. Focused. Now, it's like he's actually human. Like he's let control out of his hands a bit. It's uncharacteristic. Foreign. Too strange for his mind to get wrapped around. It's like a mask of certainty and rock hard will power has been peeled off.

A mask...

There's no cuddling or gentle post-sex kisses. No quiet conversation about what just transpired between them. No gentle assistance as they cleaned themselves up. No curious touches to the scars on their bodies. No words exchanged aside from 'Is this sock yours or mine?' Less than twenty minutes later, they part ways, masks back in place.