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“Out of my way, Trench Coat.” Mick grumbled, trying to shove John away from the food replicator.
“I don’t see your name on it, mate.” John sneered, standing his ground.
Mick pointed to where someone, presumably Mick himself, had scratched his name into the metal.
“Did you do that precisely for situations like this?”
“Yes. Now move.”
John stepped aside reluctantly, watching as Mick tossed the plate he’d been about to retrieve onto the counter and ordered something sugary and artery-clogging from Gideon. He continued to observe as Mick sat down to eat, pointedly ignoring John’s continued presence. Eventually, licking the chocolate off his fingers, he looked up with a glare.
“Why are you watching me?”
“Just wondering how someone who eats nothing but garbage manages to retain such a trim figure.”
“From beating the shit out of people who bug me. Which is you right now.”
John raised his eyebrows. “You planning on kicking my arse, mate?”
Mick got to his feet. “I’m not your mate.”
“Too right, I should call you something else. How about bastard instead?”
Mick scoffed and started walking away. “I’m outta here.”
“Bugger me backwards, I’m heartbroken.”
“Cut the shit.” Mick snarled, whirling around. “What’s your problem with me?”
“ My problem ? You’re the one who decided to hate me right off the bat.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a lying son of a bitch who acts all high and mighty even though you got no idea what you’re doin’.” Mick replied, advancing on John with his hands balled into fists.
“At least I’m not a neanderthal who’s idea of a balanced diet is a beer in each hand.”
“Hypocrite.”
“Berk.”
“Assface.”
“Wanker.”
“Fuckstick!”
“Bellend!”
“Cocksucker!”
“Twat!”
They stopped about five inches from each other’s face, both still fuming from the insults. Mick’s face was bright red and he was breathing as though he’d just run a mile. John was sure he didn’t look any better, rage boiling inside his stomach.
Rage and… another thing. Lower down.
“Shot in the dark but do you want to fuck or something?”
Mick stared at him for a second, the delivered a smack across John’s face. Open palm slap, hard enough to make him stumble backwards and clutch at his stinging cheek.
“Like it rough do you? Or is this your twisted idea of a rejection?”
“The first one.” Mick growled, grabbing John’s arms and yanking him forward so their bodies were pressed together. “No kissing on the mouth.”
“Fine with me, mate. Sorry, bastard.”
Mick’s grip on John’s wrists tightened. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be walking funny for a week.”
“You’d better.” John smirked, leaning in as close as he dared. “Or are you all mouth and no trousers?”
With a growl, Mick moved so fast that John lost track of him for a moment. He suddenly found himself tossed over one of Mick’s broad shoulders, a hand clasped firmly on his ass. John snorted, letting his body go limp. Mick didn’t seem to care, toting him through the hallways as if he weighed nothing. John had to admit, it was a pretty huge turn on.
They entered Mick’s room, and Mick dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. “Clothes off.” He barked. “Get on the bed.”
John complied, scrutinizing the bare mattress with no frame shoved into a corner. “You call that a bed?”
“Only ‘cause I have to.” Mick was throwing off his own clothes haphazardly. John noted his lack of underpants with interest, wondering if that was a usual thing. If he sat around, legs splayed with care only for his own comfort, among everyone with only a layer of well-worn denim between his big cock and the rest of the world. John’s mouth watered slightly at the thought as he turned to the “bed” and started towards it. Two rough hands pushing his back and caused John to sprawl across the mattress with a yelp.
He found himself face down among the pillows, Mick’s heavy body pinning him down. A rock hard cock rubbed against John’s lower thighs and he gulped. “I know this is supposed to be for us to work out our frustrations or whatever excuse we’ll come up with, but you’re not going to make me take that monster without a little preparation, are you?”
John could practically feel Mick smirking behind him.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Going in dry doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
“It’ll hurt you too.” John groaned. “If I’m too tight.”
Mick scoffed. “Got experience with that?”
“Yeah.”
“Slut.” Mick sat back and spanked him, the sound reverberating throughout the room. John bit his lip, the sharp pain making his dick jump. Mick smacked his backside a few more times for good measure, before pushing his fingers up against John’s lips.
“Suck.”
John obeyed, taking Mick’s fingers into his mouth and licking them. Knowing this was the only sort of lube he was going to get, he figured doing a good job was important. What he ended up doing was less sucking and more coating the thick digits petting his tongue in saliva. He couldn’t resist a light nip at the tips as they pulled away with a pop.
Mick coaxed John’s legs apart, spit-soaked fingers circling his hole. He barely gave John time to adjust before he was forcing both inside the tight pucker. John shouted into the pillow. Surprisingly, Mick took his time. He pumped his fingers slowly, free hand drifting across the expanse of John’s bare flesh. He dug his nails into sensitive places, leaned in to place bites on John’s shoulder blades, running lips and stubble across the particularly soft skin of his neck.
As much as John found himself enjoying the equal mix of pleasure and pain, he’d been promised more of both and was beginning to grow impatient. “Would you get on with it?”
Mick’s fingers stilled inside him. “You were the one who wanted a head start.”
“Head start is this? You think I’m enjoying your fat fingers ripping me open?”
“Wouldn’t put it past you.”
John snorted. “Just fuck me already.”
“Sure.” Mick’s fingers withdrew and John braced himself for a further intrusion, but it didn’t come. Instead, Mick flipped him over onto his back so John found himself staring up into a smug face and ample pectorals. He held something up, waving a scrap of red fabric in front of John’s face, something he recognized as his own tie.
“What are you going to do with that?”
In lieu of answering, Mick tied John’s wrists together with the tie. “Don’t want you gettin’ too handsy now, Trench Coat.”
John threw his arms around Mick’s neck and tugged him down so they were face to face. “I’ve got other parts that can do some damage and if you don’t get your prick in my arse right now you’re going to find out which ones.” He punctured his statement with a bite to Mick’s scarred shoulder.
“Damn you’re impatient. I make you that hot under the collar?”
“Save the fucking puns until the fucking is done.”
Mick bent John’s legs at the knee and lined himself up. “Don’t say I didn’t try to save your pretty little hole.” He pushed in as fast as he could, disregarding John’s poorly muffled yell of pain.
The burn was extraordinarily horrific, the stretch nearly unbearable, and yet, John couldn’t have hoped for anything more. His cock had started to go soft as he was breached, but the deeper Mick slid into him the slower he went and the better it felt to John. By the time he bottomed out, John was panting, the pain ebbing away into pleasure. Mick was holding him by the thighs, vice-like grip doubtlessly leaving bruises.
“Sweet Jesus, Trench Coat, you’re tight.”
“That’s your fault.” John managed to grit out.
“I ain’t complainin’ baby. Feels good.”
John sneered. “Oh, I’m your baby now? Getting in me once is enough to change your tune?”
Mick’s face darkened. “Shut your mouth.”
“Make me.”
One of Mick’s hands shot from John’s thigh to his neck. “One more word and I swear to God…”
John huffed out a laugh. “Do it. Choke me…daddy.”
With a vicious growl, Mick seized John by the throat and squeezed. John coughed, breath coming in short gasps as the pressure increased. Lights danced in front of his eyes, his fingers starting to tingle. Just before his world went completely black, the crushing weight disappeared and John gasped, air flooding his lungs once again. His cock twitched against his stomach, dripping precum.
“You like that huh?” Mick was watching him, hand now resting on his chest.
“Yeah, nearly dying makes me really horny.” John sputtered.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mick replied dryly.
“I was joke- aah!” John couldn’t stifle a scream as Mick suddenly began to move. He pulled all the way out and slammed back in, setting up a brutally hard pace. John dug his nails into the skin of Mick’s back in retaliation. Mick grunted in pain and upped the speed of his thrusts.
John lost himself in sensation, barely anything more than along for the ride but still determined to participate. Mick sucked hickies along John’s neck and shoulders, John sunk his teeth into Mick’s bulging biceps when large arms framed his head. Mick yanked on John’s hair and John clawed at his broad back, legs coming up to wrap around Mick’s waist.
When Mick shifted slightly and changed his angle, John actually screamed as Mick’s cock slammed into his prostate. “Fuck!”
Mick smirked despite the effort it was clearly taking to keep up the tempo. “That’s it, bitch. I’m gonna milk you dry.”
As his orgasm began to bear down upon him, John flung their one rule to the wind and used his tied hands to yank Mick into a violent kiss. He was met with no resistance, Mick forcing his tongue past John’s lips to tangle with his own. John moaned into Mick’s mouth as he came, body falling lax and boneless. Mick went silent and rigid as he climaxed, then collapsed on top of John, sweat dripping off his forehead.
John allowed this to continue until he could see Mick falling asleep, then shoved him off with a tremendous effort. He felt cum dribble out of his hole as Mick’s cock slipped out and shuddered. They lay side by side, catching their breath for a few long moments before John noticed that his legs had gone numb. He managed to wiggle out of the tie still tight around his wrists and patted his own thighs.
“You’ve knocked the feeling clean out of my legs.”
“Suck it up, buttercup.” Mick grunted.
“Offering another round already? Cheeky.”
Mick tried to shove John off the mattress. “Piss off, shitheel.”
John managed to get a hold of Mick’s arm and clung to him instead. “You can’t kick me out of bed after all that.”
“I don’t cuddle.” Mick informed him, not doing anything to fight him off.
“I’m not much for it either but now that you may well have broken my back I’m inclined to think you owe me something.”
“Fine.” Mick leaned over John and retrieved his discarded trench coat from the floor, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket. He lit one up and they passed it between them in a comfortable silence. On the last drag, John held the smoke in his mouth and tugged Mick closer, pressing their mouths together and breathing out. What began as an act of charity turned into languid kisses and wandering hands (once John had put out the cigarette out).
Mick pulled away, one hand resting on John’s ass. “Thought we said no kissin’.”
“Call me soft if you want but I like a little affection. Even in the middle of the wildest shag I’ve had in years.”
“You are soft. But I get that I guess.”
“Glad I put it simple enough for you to understand.”
“I hate you.”
John snuggled up to Mick, tucking his head under that wide chin.
“Just another joke. I think you’re absolutely barking and a complete prat on some occasions, but you’re not stupid.”
“Thanks. Maybe.”
“You’re welcome. Maybe.”
Mick pinched him on the thigh. “You got some real brass balls mouthin’ off all the time like that.”
“It’s how I survived this long. Probably how I’ll get on for the rest of my miserable life too.”
“Don’t get into all the death and misery bullshit right now. Don’t wanna ruin the moment.”
“Now who’s being soft?”
Mick pulled John closer. “Fuck you.”
John wrapped his arms around Mick’s torso, smiling in spite of himself. “All you have to do is ask.”
***
“Are you feeling okay, John?” Ray asked, eyeing him with concern. “You’re walking kinda funny.”
John shot a glare at Mick who smirked in return. The rest of the team rolled their eyes, except for Ray who looked confused.
“I don’t get it.”
Mick mimed a very vulgar act using his fingers. Comprehension dawned on Ray’s face which then turned a vibrant shade of scarlet.
“Oh! Um, congrats?”
“I still can’t feel my arse so I don’t quite think congratulations are in order.” John replied in a scathing tone, limping in an exaggerated fashion over to a wall which he leaned on.
“I think I deserve a pat on the back for it.” Mick sneered.
“You got more than that, mate. Excuse me, bastard.”
“Asshole.”
“All that and you still can’t go five minutes without insulting each other?” Sara asked, exasperation tinting her words.
“Well you know what they say. Hate sex is great sex.” John answered, rubbing his lower back and wincing.