#rvb x reader

BLUE TEAM

Leonard Church-

Church positively malfunctions a bit. I'm under the impression that you probably haven't brought up liking him due to his whole past with Tex so one day when everyone is busy with liquor rightfully won stolen from the Reds, he doesn't expect you to grab him by the belt loop of his fatigues to pull him in. His first action is to bitch about it until you're on your toes to kiss him.

For Church, it's been a long ass time since he's been kissed. He malfunctions again. Isn't sure whether or not to kiss back and he definitely knows for sure Tex might kick his ass. By the end of it you're both just kind of standing there awkwardly while Caboose yells something in the background. (This would be a great build up for angst and unrequited feelings I'll be so real right now. You Church lovers are built different I swear.)

Michael J. Caboose-

Caboose has no idea what's going on.

Literally.

You grabbed him and tugged him in and he immediately took it as an invite to start hugging you. Any plans you had about kissing this golden retriever are thrown out the window when he picks you up with a lot of strength (pray he doesn't get too excited and accidentally cracks your ribs) before running around to yell excitedly that he's having the best day ever. Hang on tight. Caboose doesn't do slow running. Caboose goes full speed at all times. If you don't wrap your legs around him or something (because he will let go at some point) you are gonna fall flat on your ass at full speed too.

Later when Tucker tries to explain it to him he just goes 'oh that was nice!'

You have a long up hill battle my friend. Good thing you're already in the army.

Lavernius Tucker-

Tucker knew what you wanted the moment the two of you were alone and he felt that little snag to tug him closer.

Has the most shit eating grin as he leans down to ask you if you have been waiting too long- add on his usual colorful attempts at flirting. Please shut him up by kissing him. Whether it goes further than kissing is ultimately up to you. And I DO MEAN IT IS UP TO YOU. You're gonna have to be the one cranking the brakes here because Tucker is notoriously horny almost all of the time so this guy will GO unless you physically put a hand up and say to take it easy for now.

Tucker: Baby I'm always easy.

You: Oh. I know.

I'm under the firm impression he will take your need for time seriously if you want it. Even if he's horny he's smart enough to know there's a time and place. But if you let him tap that ass it'll be fun! Go for the showers- the noises will echo and piss Church off more.

Agent David Washington-

Now Wash will have one of two reactions.

The first is where he gets immediately flustered. We all know he blushes like virgin in the right moments so once it's clicked in his head his face will go supernova when your lips are pressed to his. Of course he's gonna kiss you back- it's nice and slow and there isn't a care in the world right then for your little corner. (This is based on the idea you two have had a thing but neither of you have confessed yet).

(Which leads us to if you two are indeed together.)

If you and Wash have already done the snog and dance before, when you grab him by the belt loop here his eyes will go dark. You don't kiss him. He kisses you. And it's filthy. Better be glad you two are mostly out of sight cause he's got a hand up your shirt and both of you are moaning while he has you pinned to the wall. It has been years since he has been laid. He is thirsty. Just let him have a sip. Make him beg for it too if you want because he will.

RED TEAM

Dexter Grif-

Grif doesn't know what's happening until your mouth is slotted against his and he becomes aware of where your hand is. To be fair you snagged him on the way to his third nap for the day- dude was a little sleepy but now he's here and the two of you are kissing and he has to prop himself up with an arm against the wall as he figures why the fuck not? Grif kisses back. He hasn't gotten laid in a long while. You aren't the worst kisser ever and he actually likes you enough to crowd you further against the wall when he deepens it.

Neither of you are getting naked in that hallway corner though. No. If this goes further he drags you back to the bunk he shares with Simmons and locks said man out for the ride you're about to take. And yes, you will be on top.

But Grif is gonna be the one in charge the whole time while he lays back to enjoy it.

Richard 'Dick' Simmons-

Malfunctions so hard.

I'm so serious. Simmons yelped when you dragged him in and yanked him down. He has no idea what's going on or what it implies. That kiss is a little lackluster and if his face wasn't as red as his armor from the sheer proximity from when you grabbed him it definitely is during and after that kiss. If you weren't a stronger person you'd be disappointed but something about the way he's blushing and stuttering just warms your heart in an odd way.

Grif still calls him a virgin as he passes you both.

If you keep this up, maybe you'll be able to prove Grif wrong. But not at that moment. Simmons looks ready to keel over.

Franklin Delano Donut-

Goddamn when you did this he swooned hard. Is giggling a little into the kiss once your lips meet and he's bundling you up close to him as you spend a few good minutes kissing like hooligans. You're the one who makes it a little more suggestive but bless Donut's heart he catches on fast and doesn't bother waiting to put you down before the both of you are off to his bunk. Sarge will complain later about Donut going off to do fru fru shit but the hickies he sports makes the colonel quiet up real fast.

MERCS

Issac 'Felix' Gates-

Everyone's favorite asshole knew what you were doing before you managed to touch his belt loop. This motherfucker Looney Tunes'd your ass- he grabbed you by your pants first and hauled you in for the messiest makeout he's probably done since the last time he went to a club. There is biting. It's more of a fight than a kiss. He enough of an asshole to bang you in the hallway if it's empty and leave you to limp to your bunk after. Just rest easy knowing you probably bit him back just as much as he bit you and he will wear those marks on his neck for weeks.

Samuel 'Locus' Ortez-

Locus Locus Locus.

It's hard with him I'm not gonna lie. He is almost ALWAYS in his armor. There are no damn belt loops. It's the armor or the undersuit because this man hasn't relaxed enough to put on something casual in a long time. Your best bet was grabbing him by the hips when he had his helmet off in the locker room and just kissing him right there.

Tucker: 

Tucker falls in love at first sight or not at all. You catch his eye and he thinks you're hot and it either goes somewhere or it doesn't.  At first he is just focused on trying to get to know everything about you in a.. What you feel, what you think, what you like and to him.  This early infatuation is fragile but he’s also prone to spook and  lose interest. To him it might feel like getting bored all of a sudden out of nowhere. However, If he’s really got it bad, that distance will prove to be a passing phase and he’ll find himself once again not able to get enough of you   in an insatiable curious way.  Depending on when you get to know him he might play hot and cold games with you because he is afraid of emotional intimacy.

Caboose: 

Caboose becomes enamored and infatuated very quickly, however, with romantic love, it takes him some time to come to the realization on his own. At first he is just his normally bubbly self and enjoys talking with you and asking you questions and getting to know you.  He feels a great deal of affection for you and is enthusiastic about spending time with you and getting to know you. This phase can become a bit obsessive and exciting for him, though it does not necessarily register as romantic. As time goes on he has these moments where he feels his heart swelling when he’s around you. He wants to hug you all the time. He wants you to be happy and to make you feel better when you're sad.It builds and builds and  suddenly he finds himself nervous and shy around you. This is when he realizes he has a crush on you and while he wants to confess his feelings, the shyness makes it hard. Kind of like how he acts around Sheila in the first couple seasons.   When your presence is both calming and grounding that's when this affection builds into something more stable and deep.  He is in love when he is at ease around you.

Kai: 

For Kai, love isn't something she likes to think about all that much. To her it's all kind of mysterious and ineffable, but her experience is that It's something that organically grows. When she meets you, there is an instant attraction and she flirts and wants to have sex with you. To her that kind of attraction has nothing to do with love, and during sex she isn't really into anything too intimate: No kissing, no hand holding, no lovey eyes, none of that shit. She expects herself to lose interest at some point. She is upfront about wanting things to be casual and is no nonsense about relationships. She’s honest and you'll know exactly where you stand with her.  When she doesn’t lose interest, she starts to think “huh, that's weird”. This is compounded when she notices herself  wanting to do that lovey shit with you. She has a realization that she's got it bad  and after a brief panic is on her way to woo you into something more. 

Red Team

Sarge: 

When you chew out Grif before he gets the chance to do it himself. Watching you yell at that good for nothing dirtbag for doing something stupid filled him with so much pride and admiration… and a throbbing erection. From there he starts acting weird.  He giggles around you and gets shy and its weird as fuck. 

Simmons: 

Falling in love is very rare for Simmons and it takes time for him. However, when he meets you gets this eerie feeling, something that lets him  know you  would be important in his life.  That phenomenon has been happening to him since he was a kid, and he can't really be sure how the person will be important, he just knows they will be. It is sitting with him and getting to know him through long conversations that help his feelings develop. He starts to get this warm glow when he spends time with you. He starts thinking about you all the time and daydream of all the things he can do to put a smile on your face. He tells himself it's just his brain “feel good hormones/neurotransmitters” (dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin) that make him feel this way. Because the  first time he sit closely to you and holds your hand and he feel warm and high. Sometimes he get so lost in daydreaming he don’t realize what’s going on around him.He is  one of those grinning idiots when in love. He is constantly replaying shared moments in his head 

Grif: 

Grif falls in love gradually and it is largely dependent on him feeling comfortable around you. He finds overt flirting or overly chattiness to be annoying so if you're trying to get to know him it might backfire at first. He finds shyness and dokiness to be endearing.  Over time, in the process of talking to you he notices that as he reveals more of himself, you pay attention and understand him, and more importantly  don't try to change him. Especially the part of him that annoys or frustrates most people, you included. He can handle bitching , but even a hint of “i can fix you” energy has him running for the hills.  That feeling of acceptance is the first thing that starts to warm up his heart.  Once he solidly has a crush,  he is either super serious, super flirty or will walk straight into a wall, sometimes all three. Though, he is particularly nervous about expressing his feelings he will do stuff he doesn't like and doesn't want to do because it makes you happy.  There is also a decent chance he will get depressed thinking he’s not good enough and not make any attempt to get close to that person.However if you show interest he’ll be very nervous but super happy, When it develops into love, he’s  just wide eyed and has the dumbest smile on his face. He’ll try to touch them often and hang near them and become particularly protective. 

Donut: 

Donut is the kind of person who always has a crush on someone. His attention is somewhat limited and he tends to bounce around without ever really letting it stick to deep. His romantic feelings are bright and idealistic and intense. He meets you and suddenly his whole world is sunshine and flowers and romance and he becomes hyper interested in you. However, he's been burned by letting people know how he sincerely feels too soon in relationships so he tends to make light of his feelings so it's hard to tell if he’s being serious or not. Lots of flirting and “love ya” that leaves you wondering how much he really means it.  Much like Caboose, As it develops into stronger and more intense feelings leading up to love, he too get extremely shy. When he is with you,  he finds himself tongue tied, he has no idea what to talk about with you. This is his first clue and he starts to work though his feelings .Love for him is a realization.  He notices how around you, he doesn't have to wear any mask around you. ​He feels completely accepted for who he is and he starts to trust that his feelings are real.  

Freelancers

Washington 

Wash is the type to fall rarely and fall hard when he does. Intimacy and emotional vulnerability don't come easy to him, and his trust has to be earned before he is comfortable letting his guard down. So, it's how you constantly show up for him. It's not even necessarily the big thing, though, those are important. It's the way you’ll find a moment with him each day. A shared look after Tucker or Caboose did something particularly unreasonable. The way you’ll look at him when you ask how he’s really doing. Over time, he starts to feel safe around you and then he notices it.   How driven and passionate you are, how you stick to your values, how he can trust your word to mean something.  Wash processes his feelings  somewhere between "glacial" and "really slowly.") and love is no exception. There’s never really a moment that it ‘clicks’. Instead he suddenly finds himself genuinely looking forward to those moments when you're together. Conversations, even about topics that don’t really have a point, suddenly don’t feel like interruptions or a waste of time. He enjoys watching you light up when you playfully argue that the weather is simply too nice to run drills today. He’ll start changing his schedule to spend more time with you. Without really meaning to he starts to memorize all these details about you, your preferences, your experiences, all of it. One day you'll find he’s cleaned and reassembled your gun after you complained about the trigger getting stuck,  or that your armor doesn't have those old burn marks from where the Meta shot you. This could go on for quite a while so it’ll be up to you to make the first move.  Once he knows he feeling something, he has a hard time putting in into words. If you push him on it he’ll say  “I don't know, I guess it's almost like a feeling of safety? Like coming out of the rain and sitting by the heater with a warm drink I guess” 

Carolina 

🅨🅐🅝. 🅛. 🅒🅗🅤🅡🅒🅗

He's threatened by your presence. You outrank him. You'll take over the unit. It isn't that you aren't qualified. You are. He just doesn't want to listen to someone who thinks they know all the ins and outs of the delicate balance between the Reds and Blues.

[ Pans to Church missing multiple shots at Sarge's head. Tucker and Caboose are bickering. Donut is running around screaming. Grif is sitting on a rock trying to yank a snack cake out of Simmons's hands. ]

He tries to be imposing but takes one look at you and nearly pisses himself. Holy fuck, they are so winning. His superiority and inferiority complexes are having a field day trying to work with you. Part of him wants to own you, for you to be his loyal soldier, because he's much more experienced in the gluch. The other part knows he's inadequate and wants to hide from you. You're an unstoppable, enigmatic force.

He lashes out at you because of his own self-perceived shortcomings. You take it as he dishes it out, brushing him off like he's nothing more than harmless debris that has fallen onto your MJOLNIR armor, which he is obsessed with trying to break, by the way. Your armor makes you special. He doesn't like that. In fact, he hates it. You must think you're so much better than them! Being all cool, calm, and collected: things he wants to be but always seems to fail at.

He's even meaner to his teammates unless they back off and leave you alone. He has zero tolerance for being undermined by them when you're near. He'll get violent, more than his usual verbal berating. He beat Tucker bloody once for questioning him in front of you.

Tucker shouted, "What the hell is wrong with you? I get fighting over a nice piece of ass, but you don't need to kill me over it! They aren't gonna fuck you just because you fucked me up!"

That managed to snap him out of his jealous fueled, emotionally unstable stupor. The mere notion that eliminating Tucker would not garner your favor was enough to chill him to the bone in the middle of the day under the hot-ass sun in the dry, bony desert. Now, at least, everyone knows to use your judgment as a way to control Church's outbursts.

He is insanely possessive. There's this almost programmed instinct to keep you alive and near him. Its awakening was somewhat stalled by his other repressed traumas but surfaced nonetheless. He says you're his when those dirty Reds dare to threaten you.

[ For your mental image: Church, much shorter and skinnier in frame than your 7+ foot tall stature, talking shit to the Reds about how he'd kill any of them for laying a hand on you.

Church incidentally has scary dog privilege, except he isn't the dog baring his teeth that he believes himself to be. ]

He's a handful, but more than willing to sit in your lap and grumble about how reckless you are as he cleans up your scrapes, drools over you, and wants to kiss you so bad that it makes him look stupid (note from Caboose: and Church HATES looking dumb).

🅨🅐🅝. 🅜. 🅒🅐🅑🅞🅞🅢🅔

Woah, everything about you is so cool! Your armor is super shiny, and you have a nice blue person in your helmet, kind of like him! Your AI doesn't seem to be as mean and rude as O'Malley. A fact that he is glad of.

He latched onto you from the get-go. You symbolize hope and humanity's strength in his eyes. It's no secret that he does have a tendency to follow you around and just watch your routine, occasionally inserting himself to ask a question or tell a long-winded story.

He's a bit confused, if not excited, when you ask him all sorts of weird questions like "Does he have any permanent brain damage?" or "Is he fit for combat?" He doesn't take any offense because these are thoughts he's said himself. He's more than willing to prove that he's an asset on the battlefield. Just don't mention the teammate killing.

He gets close to you because he knows, or at least is the one with the most knowledge, on fixing whatever's wrong with your suit or AI. There's some weird interference with your tech and the gulch. Caboose is more than willing to capitalize on that fact. He really tries to get on your AI's good side so you like him.

He's proud that you find his strength admirable. He was lifting something, super heavy if he might add, and you came to help, but Caboose didn't need any help! You let out a sound that he could only interpret as total awe.

He already has your whole life together planned out by the time you hit one month in the unit. Now he just has to carefully approach you and get you to date, then marry him! Easy peasy. He knows you like him. You're just quiet and stoic and all-soldiery because you have to be. He already has the celebratory balloons and cake set up for when you accept his partnership with open arms (and legs); he really wants to snuggle with you.

🅨🅐🅝. 🅒🅞🅛🅞🅝🅔🅛 🅢🅐🅡🅖🅔

Hot damn. Slather him in butter and deep-fry him, but he does believe his eyes do not deceive him. You, dear, are indeed one mighty fine soldier to join his highly esteemed (his words, not mine) team.

He does implore you to ignore Grif. He's inconsequential to the conversation and will only waste your time. Lord knows he's tried to shove Grif down the stairs and get him to break his neck many times, but it never seems to work. Damn. Sarge wonders if you are wholly against friendly homicide.

You are the apple of his eye. Your execution is flawless; that never fails to get him hot under his armor plating. Not that you're interested in how he feels. He knows you Spartans are tough sons of bitches and don't indulge in things like feelings very often. Neither does he! However, you are the most welcome exception.

You're so loyal too! Loyal soldiers that aren't ass-kissers deserve love from their commanders, do they not? He's not exactly familiar with all of your secret hand signals, but he creates his own. A firm pat on the shoulder pad, sliding down your armored back and just missing the delicious curve of your ass, sends enough of a message.

Quite possibly the best thing is that you don't bellyache. If you're uncomfortable, then you don't voice it. This lets Sarge get away with a lot more things than he should militarily be allowed to get away with, like watching you dress and undress to see how "efficient" you are at suiting up. Although you always do need help from some machines they installed to fully get into your armor. He's always eager to help the process. He keeps those machines in tip-top shape just for you.

You are undeniably his darlin', and you won't be getting transferred as long as he's in the picture [alive and kicking].

🅨🅐🅝. 🅓. 🅖🅡🅘🅕

He can't decide whether you're a blessing or a curse. There's someone else that can do all his work and more, but you're less than inclined to let him laze around like a cat sleeping in the scorching Blood Gulch sun. You either order him around or don't bother wasting your time on his presence. He thinks you're kind of a prig, but a hot one if the super secret files of yours that Sarge was supposed to be guarding are worth anything.

He really just wants to make you slip up. You think you're so much better than him just because you have so many shiny military medals and heavily outrank him? Pfft. You don't even know how to insult him correctly! You don't even insult him at all. You only address him with a cold detachment, which somehow becomes worse than the normal soul-crushing jeers from pretty much everyone else.

He gets in your way, leaves his trash in your quarters, sleeps in your bed, and even messes with whatever tasks Sarge told you to complete! You perfectly combat his every attempt and shut him down. He now has several more bruises and scars from all the times you've handed his ass to him. You can even lift him up and carry him with ease, no simple feat, especially when factoring in his burdensome armor.

He gets scolded each time by Sarge. Apparently he's ruining his reputation by harassing you. But no one gets in trouble when they harass Grif. Well―kind of. Despite all Grif has done to you, you still defend him when Red Team puts his life in unnecessary danger. You have saved him a few times from the Blues, which he is eternally grateful for, not that he'll admit it.

He's obsessed, and he isn't even aware. You consume all his normal lazing-around time. He's too tired to realize it. He sleeps more soundly at night, in your cot, of course. You seem not to sleep much, so he takes up that space when you aren't. You've grown accustomed to Grif and his Grifisms, so you reluctantly allow it.

Little does your normally so astute mind know, he's slowly (as always) encroaching on the territory of your life. He's already latched onto you. Just try not to let him slow you down too much. As for solutions to your problem, putting a bullet in your allies is a bit troublesome and against a myriad of military regulations. You could make an exception for Grif.

🅨🅐🅝. 🅕. 🅓🅞🅝🅤🅣

You're kind of like his hero. He wants to fall into your strong arms and be saved like a princess whose knight just slayed an evil dragon. He also wants to see you oiled up. Who said that?

He subconsciously matures himself in front of you. His joking demeanor dies down; he's more focused. He does his best to seem battle-hardened as he seeks to understand you. He can't help but feel self-conscious in your company. Do you like how he's acting? Is he overdoing it? Everyone on Red Team seems to think so.

He does his best to be accommodating. If there's no space to sit, then he'll grab an extra chair or offer you his own. He's started carrying extra clips and magazines for you to reload. He even keeps a plasma grenade in reserve. If you seem weary, which is hard to tell except for the slight slump of your shoulders and heavier footsteps, he'll grab you some water and offer to take whatever shift you were on.

You're much more adept than he is, but you're still in a new place. He's new, but not as new as you. He tries to help you familiarize yourself and does his best to explain the team dynamics. ( Does he do a good job? Eh, he does it well enough that you have learned some pertinent information about the base and its surroundings. )

Florida is one of the very few people capable of making a power struggle feel affectionate. Most Freelancers are competitive by nature. Every interaction becomes a challenge. Every challenge becomes a contest. Somehow Florida manages to take all that tension and turn it into something playful instead.

He finds it incredibly entertaining when other people forget how dangerous you are. Not because he doubts your abilities, but because he knows exactly what you are capable of. Watching people underestimate you never stops being funny.

Florida has a habit of resting an arm around your shoulders and absentmindedly keeping you tucked against his side while continuing whatever conversation he was having. The longer you stay together, the less either of you notices it.

When you become annoyed about something, he somehow gets even calmer. It is impossible to bait him into an argument when he decides he is enjoying himself.

The more dramatic your frustration becomes, the more amused he is behind his visor.

Florida loves competence. He loves watching you work. He loves watching you win. He loves watching other people realize exactly how badly they have underestimated you.

What he loves even more is knowing that the terrifying Freelancer everyone else worries about occasionally chooses to curl up beside him after a difficult day.

There is something deeply satisfying to him about the fact that you trust him enough to stop being scary for a little while.

Florida's version of possessiveness is less jealousy and more quiet certainty. He never feels the need to constantly prove your relationship because he already knows where he stands with you.

If somebody flirts with you, he is usually entertained rather than threatened.

If somebody disrespects you, the amusement is saved for later activities.

One of the most attractive things about Florida is how effortless his confidence feels. He does not need to dominate every room he enters. He does not need constant validation. He knows exactly who he is.

That confidence becomes especially obvious whenever the two of you are alone. He has an almost unfair ability to make you feel completely naked, even in full gear.

Despite his reputation for being easygoing, Florida notices every reaction. Every shift in posture. Every glance. Every nervous habit. His observational skills are terrifying when focused entirely on you.

Sometimes it feels like he knows what you are thinking before you do.

The thing that makes him dangerous is not his strength.

People tend to forget how absurdly strong he is because of how relaxed he acts. Then they watch him casually move equipment that normally requires multiple people or physically separate two fully armored soldiers who are trying to kill each other, and suddenly it becomes very obvious why he was a top Freelancer.

Lifting you off your feet barely registers as difficult. The first time it happens is usually accompanied by complete disbelief on your part and quiet amusement on his.

At the same time, he enjoys seeing what happens when you let your guard down around him. Most people only know the version of you that is always alert and prepared. Florida gets to see the version that relaxes. He gets to bite at it.

He is very pleased with the trust involved whenever you allow yourself to be vulnerable around him. Project Freelancer did not exactly encourage vulnerability. The fact that you choose to give him that part of yourself is a very big ego boost.

Physical affection with Florida often involves being trapped in some capacity. Not intentionally. He is simply dexterous, strong, and has absolutely no concept of personal space once he gets comfortable.

Sitting beside him often turns into being partially pinned beneath him when he decides he wants to lean closer. He pretends to never notice exactly how much space he occupies.

Florida enjoys reminding you that there is a difference between winning a fight and winning a wrestling match. Could you beat him in combat? Absolutely. Could you break free once he has wrapped both arms around you and decided he is not letting go? That becomes a much funner question.

It is the fact that he understands exactly how much strength he possesses and never feels the need to prove it.

The cold water was supposed to help. Sarge had turned it to it’s coldest setting and stood under the spray of the shower head for twenty minutes and it had no effect.

Tucker activated the Temple of Procreation approximately two hours ago and most everyone had paired, tripled or some other numbered off in various places. The base in which the Reds and Blues had ultimately come to occupy was mostly empty in the common areas, though moaning could be heard echoing here and there. Sarge, ever the stoic, believed he alone could withstand the so called power the alien device broadcasted planet-wide. And for ten minutes, he did hold his own, versus most others who had perked up almost immediately and ran off to find a willing partner(s).

After maybe an hour or so (he wasn’t really sure), Sarge really needed the respite of a frigid shower. There were people in there, of course there were, already guts deep in each others’ privates and he barked at them all to vacate the area. He was able to hold it together for another seventeen seconds as everyone ran out before quickly stripping himself. Even the grazes of his own hands against his body was breaking his skin out in goosebumps, his length already hard and reddening. This alien temple was powerful stuff, but not nearly as powerful as him, or so he liked to think.

Now the cold water was pounding down on his head and shoulders and he was staring down at his still hard cock like he could will it away, one hand propped in a fist against the shower wall, the other by his side, fingers itching to wrap around his length. As his resolve was about to break, the loud, echoing clutter of armor, clothes, and boots hitting the tile floor took his attention.

Sarge looked up and saw you stumbling into the showers completely nude, shaking hands turning the dials to cold, evidently with the same idea as him. He knew you, one of the Feds’ medics who performed his physicals, check ups and the occasional wound tending. He was a regular for you and you two were well acquainted, quite close by all means even, and he’d be lying if he didn’t feel some kind of attraction there. He watched as you first stood under the water, eyes shut and lips moving in a repeated plea of “please please please”, perhaps hoping the same as him that you could just will the silent effect of the Temple away. And he watched as your body couldn’t resist, skin peppered with goosebumps both form the cold and from need, nipples pert and… His eyes darted up immediately as soon as he looked down between your legs. His stomach coiled heatedly as his cock twitched.

The water was cold but you felt hot to your tightened core. Eyes shut still as you kept murmuring a supplication to keep it together, you swept your shaking hands over your wet hair, down your neck and over your hard nipples. You were half tempted to tease them, give in to the power of the Temple but the heat of frustration was stronger. Colleagues had asked, but even through the haze of the Temple’s persuasion, you just couldn’t bring yourself to that point with them. You opted to stay behind as everyone rushed off, and try to have a go (or several) at yourself instead, but it just wasn't as satisfying and you could barely get yourself off even once, and so you were resolved to ride this out. Except your hands kept going, down your stomach, past your navel and settling between your legs. A languid swipe of your fingers along your ready sex drew out a long moan and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself. “Oh, fuck.”

Sarge watched with bated breath as your hands glided over your body and between your legs, the way your voice pitched as you touched yourself, eyes closed with pleasure as the water continued to patter down your shoulders, making you look sleek and inviting. He felt like he might burst at the seams simply watching you.

As your rhythm became more erratic and unsteady, feeling the coil deep in your stomach, you startled as a pair of strong, roughened hands grabbed you. Sarge was there suddenly, his face flushed as he stared down between your thighs. “Let me help,” he muttered. Luckily, he was close enough to hear, otherwise you might not have heard his low growl over the water, the sound pleasant and hot. If it was perhaps anyone else, you might’ve said no, but you liked Sarge’s gruff attitude and weird sillyness, a bit more than you were willing to admit. With your orgasm still on the precipice, you let him guide your fingers away, and watched as his own thick and calloused digits took your place.

The relief to your waiting body was instant as he stroked you slowly, testing, teasing. His touch was an unfamiliar feeling, but wholly welcome. While he worked you between your legs, making your eyes roll back, you vaguly felt his other hand, which had grasped your shoulder at first, ghost down your back and around your side to your front, where he pinched and began rolling an aching nipple. You arched immediately and the gasp skirting out of your mouth turned into a full groan as he put his hot tongue on your throat, suckling and biting. The change in temperature was a steep contrast to the cold water still washing down your body, and you felt your knees buckle. You thought you might fall but Sarge’s big arms held you up against his strong chest, and you felt his ready cock press against the back of your thigh.

The roughness of his digits took you over the edge too soon and you threw your head back against Sarge’s shoulder as you came hard in his hand, but he wasn’t slowing down. He continued to stroke you through your orgasm, your body twitching against his as he continuously hit your most sensitve spot over and over with precision. Soon you were trying to wrestle him away, but he was much stronger than you, easily. You could feel another orgasm tightening in your core again. But just as it was starting to get good, he stopped. His fingers came to his gruff mouth, slick with your cum and he licked up what hadn’t washed off. As you watched him in dazed amazement, you felt him throbbing slightly while pressed up against you.

Without a word, you pulled away and dropped to your knees in front of Sarge, firmly grasping him at the base of his length. “Let me help,” you repeated his words at him, and opened your mouth, tongue lolling out to tempt him further. For a moment, he stared down at you, expressionless save for the reddening blush on his cheeks that could match his dick. Then in one swift movement, he anchored both hands on the back of your head and shoved you down on his aching cock until he hit the back of your throat.

You would’ve gagged if you weren’t so full of him. He was thick and heavy on your tongue. You could feel his heartbeat in your mouth as he held you still for the moment, savoring the feeling and groaning loudly at the heat of you around him. His fingers curled tight in the roots of your hair near the nape of your neck, and you knew you were in for it now.

Slowly, Sarge pulled back, watching in drunken pleasure as his dick reappeared out of your mouth, then pushed back in just as slow, amazed at how well you made him disappear. Eyes glazed in pleasure, he slowly looked up and into yours, already glassy with tears from the gag you couldn’t form and suddenly he couldn’t control himself anymore. He swiftly pulled out and thrust back in through your puckered lips with equal speed, repeating until the blissful buzz of fucking your throat took away the feeling in his toes. “Open your mouth, soldier,” he grumbled in a slur at you, “and put your tongue out.”

It was an order you would’ve gladly “yessir”’d to if you could have. You obeyed immediately and his thrusts slowed as he purposefully stroked the entire underside of his length against your willing tongue. His breathing became quick and shallow as he pressed down harder with each stroke. A couple more and you felt a thick heat coating your tongue, sliding down to your open throat, a few thick ropes spilling onto your lips and a little up your cheek too. The feeling of his seed in and on you made you heat in an almost embarrassingly quick fashion.

Even as he was breathing shallowly, Sarge did not slow down. He forced your mouth closed back around his throbbing length as he thrusted a few more times, moaning each time until he suddenly pulled you off with a resounded pop as you released him. With a shaking hand, he grabbed you around the arm, forced you to your feet and without saying a word he pushed you back against he shower wall, turning off the water as he now went to his knees in front of you.

You let Sarge control the moment, too dazed to even care. He grabbed your knee and threw it over his shoulder and then went to work. First, briefly, he teased your sex with his hand, the calluses causing you to jolt with every passing brush, and then he quickly put his mouth on you, that familiar heat from your neck now working you back up. As he positively electrified you with the wide flat of his tongue, the hand that was previously working you found your hole, clenching tight at the steady stream of pleasure. He rubbed it gently at first before pulling away to spit on his fingers and continuing on with his dutiful work against you.

As if the lewd imagine of him spitting on his thick digits was all your body needed to open up to him, Sarge slipped a finger inside, just up to one knuckle at first, testing with a few short prods, then it was two knuckles, and then a whole finger, and before you knew it, there were two fingers curling inside against your silken knot of muscles as his tongue and mouth continued to bathe you, his stubble scratching pleasantly at your heated skin. You cried out as you felt both the pressure in and against your body, both bundles of nerves sizzling with Sarge’s consistant, steady swipes. You looked down at him and he was staring straight up at you, brow deeply furrowed as if his only mission in life was to make sure you were fucked out of your mind. This was the most focused you’d seen him on something that wasn’t a machine, though maybe it was that kind of work that allowed him to strongarm you in such a way. You briefly registered past his intense gaze that he was also languidly stroking himself as well. The man was an excellent multitasker it seemed.

When Sarge added a third finger, you felt yourself clench around him. It felt like too much as he beckoned at your insides at a brutal pace. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he worked you up with an expert’s touch, and when he asked if you could take it, you fumbled out something about “more”. He slowed his hand to an agonizing pace, standing to his full height and putting his face in your neck, gently suckling the skin there.

“You sure you can handle ‘more’, soldier?”

You nodded in response.

“Answer me.” The low demand in his gruff voice sent little tingles down your spine.

“Y-Yes!”

Gently, Sarge removed his thick digits from your body, leaving you feeling empty for a moment before you felt the heated head of his dick prodding at your wanting hole. It was easy for him to push in, you were practically inviting him in, and as his head made it through your initial ring of muscles, you unintentionally clamped down on him, making him grunt in your ear, his slick-with-you fingers gripping your thigh slung over his arm. He pushed further up into you slowly, and the fullness of him inside you drew a long, wanton moan from deep in your chest, finishing with a whimper when he bottomed out.

Sarge relished in the feeling of your silken heat gripping him tightly and he almost wanted to stay like that but his hips moved subconsciously and he pulled out just enough to feel how tightly you held him inside of you before thrusting back in. He chuckled as he could feel your nails digging into his bicep and back, scrabbling as he continued his minute ministrations. He’d half hoped you’d leave him bleeding.

With you mewling in his ear, he couldn’t hold back any longer and his gentle thrusts turned into full snaps of his strong hips. He felt the moment he hit the right spot as your body ensnared him, almost making it hard to continue his long strokes, the dull sting of your scratches turning into burning streaks along his arm and back. It encouraged him, he thrust even harder up into you, feeling his abs tighten as his orgasm reared up.

You felt like you were being punished in the best way. His brutal pace was rocking you down to your quickly coiling core, and the grip he had on your hips and thigh would surely leave bruises; you certianly hoped so anyway. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more grueling, Sarge paused in his thrusts to slightly kneel down and sling your other leg over his shoulder, lifting your entire body into his arms like you weighed nothing.

Now he had you completely pinned against the shower wall, fully at his mercy, and this new angle allowed him to reach a spot in you that you never knew existed. You moaned long and loud, the whole base might have heard, grasping desperately at the the tile behind you until you found purchase on his flexed biceps, around his neck, nails digging and scratching deep.

“Pleasepleaseplease!!” You begged. He hissed as you carved new tracks into his flushing skin and before you knew it, he surged forward and latched his mouth on the sensitive skin of your neck. You could feel his hot tongue swirling against your pulse, and as he pulled you further down onto his pistoning hips, angled perfectly to abuse your spot, your orgasm rocked you in drowning waves. You clenched down hard around Sarge’s cock, squirting in rhythm to his thrusts, making a mess on both yourself and him.

He pushed through the resistance of your tightening ring of muscles until he too snapped. You could feel the vibrations of his groaning against your throat as he continued to thrust up into you, painting your walls with his cum, and even as you milked him completely, he was still going, albeit a bit slower.

Eventually, finally, he came to a stop and pulled out with a grunt as if your body wouldn’t relinquish, letting you down slow, first on one foot, then the other and held you close as you regained feeling and function in your legs, both his and your juices flowing down the inside of your quaking thighs. He remained silent, save for few heavy huffs as he evened his breathing and you caught up with your own. Finally, you dared to look up at the Colonel and as your eyes raked up his body, you noticed his cock was almost as red as his armor, and still quite erect.

Another reason was to simply see you. 

You, a doctor who helps patch up clumsy people like him after a rough mission. So soft spoken and understanding compared to the constant teasing he receives from his team. And your gentle touch, as if afraid to break him more than he already feels he is. 

“Hey, Doc.” 

A classic nickname he chose for you, using it only so he can see your eyes glint with a playful glare, lips trying to resist a smirk.

He was your most frequent patient, but you never had an issue with that. 

Throwing away an orange peel (you just came from dinner, he realized), you make your way to the bed. 

Standing at the side, you take in his appearance. 

He’s still sporting the bruise from his latest mission, small enough on his jaw to look like a measly bug bite. 

His eyes are cloudy, bags deeper than last time he was here. 

Nothing too out of the ordinary, you conclude. 

“You don’t have a check up until next week. Is something the matter?” 

Finally he sits up, legs sliding to rest over the edge of the bed as he stares up at you.

The small pout on your lips makes him want to kiss it away. 

“No, I just…”

wanted to see you.

He bites his tongue before the words get out, heart skipping a beat at the idea of speaking his mind. How would you react? Reject him with such a soft tone he can't even be heartbroken? Or maybe, he'll watch your eyes widen as you share the same sentiments, leaning down and brushing your soft lips against his--

He doesn’t realize he gave no response, earning a small sigh from you.

With gentle hands you cup his jaw, tilting his head to examine if there are any sort of external wounds bothering him. Eyes meeting pale blue ones, you quickly advert your gaze. 

You had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. If it wasn't for your self control, you would have told him how they reminded you of the blue skies back at home.

Seeing no issue with his body, you release his head and turn, heading to the locked cabinet on the other wall. A poor excuse to hide your heated face.

You don’t notice him leaning forward after your hands leave his face, seeking more of your warmth, before catching himself. 

“Did you have another nightmare?” Softly asking as you rummage through the medicine capsules, waiting for his response before picking. 

The simple answer should have been yes. He has nightmares every night, ones that wrack his body in tremors and make him wake in a cold sweat. But lately, they’ve been different. 

Instead of moments of war or unbearable pain, it has changed to soft moments with you, a life in the impossible future at each other’s side. Dancing with you under the soft golden haze of the sunset, sharing a cup of coffee in a small house far away from this life, waking up in your arms with no more fears lingering in the back of his mind.

Moments that haven’t happened plague his head, wounding his heart and cursing his brain for giving him hopes for the unattainable. He almost prefers the other nightmares compared to these.