ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ. . .
@tormentedties with [20.] pulling them into your lap in the midst of a heated kiss. - BW Gabe and Kháos but like HOWEVER MAKES SENSE LMAO
Above everything, Gabriel was fucking tired.
Tired, and craving the gentle dip of his mattress beneath his weight. The way it conformed to each scarred edge of his silhouette; his last mission had been anything but smooth sailing. It took two more days than they’d initially had on a count for it, with a near friendly casualty that could have written the whole thing off as done for. It was a tedious framing, one that required none of their team to move with a mistake– though that was his expectation on any mission.
This one just held itself with a greater frame of urgency and diligence.
The near trip into an accident curled itself the waves of an aching exhaustion and brewed itself with a ramp of adrenaline– a fluctuation of his own bodily registry that occurred nearly every time he’d had to sit down and fill out the papers on someone’s death. It was a flux of panic, shock, and impulse mixing itself concretely as they’d finally boarded the ship– all members intact. Despite this knowledge, knowing that they were safe and he’d gotten his team back alive, the rhythmic flow of his own emotion wouldn’t tide itself until he’d been able to rest, unfortunately.
In that time, however, he found an easier way to soothe the constant tug to his thoughts.
The holding cell of the drop ship wasn’t ideal– they had an eight hour flight ahead of themselves, and he was certain the rest of the team would likely be resting and recouping after their days. One member had been awake, and it’d been the one that the commander had loose ties with already. Disregarding the semantics of it all, they’d landed themselves in the seclusion of the all too small holding area– though it was perfect for his intentions.
There’d been a singular bench squished between the walls that stretched merely a body’s length apart from each other, the seal of the metallic door pressing into Gabriel’s back before he’d adjusted their positions. Hasty lips met within the confines of the cell, the callous grit of his palms less than delicate by way of their commanding wrap upon the other to switch their positions. It was disorganized, everything that accumulated itself in his mind manifesting in the lack of willingness to even pull away from the operative’s lips.
Behind him now had been the metallic brace of the bench, angled just under his knees in a quiet welcome once he’d lowered himself to sit. The movement wasn’t done solo– tanned digits wrapped against Kháos’s wrists, tugging him down onto the firm expanse of Gabriel’s thighs.
“Better than standing in this shit, and more of an interesting ride than the one out there.” He’d parted just enough to murmur his wants against the midnight tone of tiers against his own. He was already hard, desperate for the distraction to his own mind; the roll of his hips upwards only emphasized the grate of hasty desire that’d become a mirror to the heat of his gaze between them.
