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Entry tags:
[20-Dec-2022][Gears of War] Gentle Handling
Title: Gentle Handling
Day/Prompt: if we could meet for just a night/12-15-22
Fandom: Gears of War
Character/Pairing: Baird/Marcus
Rating/Warning(s): Explicit content.
Word Count: 425
Summary: Marcus isn't a bitch. Baird ain't gonna treat him like one.
Marcus is on his back in some bunk, someplace, somewhere. It's cold and dirty, his tags stick to his neck from the sweat, and Baird kneels between his legs, balls deep in his ass. Baird might be small compared to Cole, but everyone is. Where it counts, he's pretty goddamn big. Baird's rough fingers burn into his hip bone, like table-top wood, and his hair's dry and ratty.
"Marcus, you," Baird says into his shoulder, breathy, "good? Can I move?"
The worst of the burn -- which ain't much -- ember-ed away in split seconds. Baird's got a look like he's shitting himself painted across his face, or like he can't believe it's true; Marcus fucking agrees because while Baird's pushing his hips in stuttering, small motions, Marcus is trying to get that shit deeper. They're fucking for a reason.
Marcus isn't a bitch, and Baird won't treat him like one--or that's what he's thinking, until Baird's pubes are brushing against his ass, just barely, scratchy as all hell, and it isn't deep enough. Baird jerks forward with a low cry, reaching in. The fingers against his hipbones sear.
"No shit," Marcus mumbles, not trying to moan.
If he looks down, between their chests bumping and the shit between, he can see Baird's cock halfway there. Shallow movements, like he's getting Marcus ready for it.
There's a fire deep in the Sergeant's stomach. Marcus shifts his hips down, arches his back off the bed, and his ankles dig into Baird's back, and finally, finally, Baird's cock is deep inside. It's pushing against his guts. Baird pulls back an inch and tries again.
"You sure this isn't--?" Baird starts. Marcus yanks his head up.
Baird's hips buck in retaliation. Marcus' fingers tighten in Baird's root, and a brief, high expression flashes across his face.
"I'm sure," The nice part of him wants to say, but it comes out as, "You got it, so shut the fuck up,"
Baird doesn't say anything. He finally fucks in. Hard, all the way in, all the way out. Marcus' head drops back, breathe punched out. Baird's dick drags over, and Marcus' legs fall apart to get it right there, and -- "There," Marcus all but demands. A subtle pain fights under the pleasure, lube dripping between his legs, brief visions of blue in his peripheral, dick so deep in Marcus might get dizzy. Baird brushes his prostate, thrusting with long, smooth strokes, and Marcus pants hard against the pillow. Their skin burns together.
"Jeez," Baird mumbles, hips pistoning. He sounds weak. "Bossy,"
Day/Prompt: if we could meet for just a night/12-15-22
Fandom: Gears of War
Character/Pairing: Baird/Marcus
Rating/Warning(s): Explicit content.
Word Count: 425
Summary: Marcus isn't a bitch. Baird ain't gonna treat him like one.
Marcus is on his back in some bunk, someplace, somewhere. It's cold and dirty, his tags stick to his neck from the sweat, and Baird kneels between his legs, balls deep in his ass. Baird might be small compared to Cole, but everyone is. Where it counts, he's pretty goddamn big. Baird's rough fingers burn into his hip bone, like table-top wood, and his hair's dry and ratty.
"Marcus, you," Baird says into his shoulder, breathy, "good? Can I move?"
The worst of the burn -- which ain't much -- ember-ed away in split seconds. Baird's got a look like he's shitting himself painted across his face, or like he can't believe it's true; Marcus fucking agrees because while Baird's pushing his hips in stuttering, small motions, Marcus is trying to get that shit deeper. They're fucking for a reason.
Marcus isn't a bitch, and Baird won't treat him like one--or that's what he's thinking, until Baird's pubes are brushing against his ass, just barely, scratchy as all hell, and it isn't deep enough. Baird jerks forward with a low cry, reaching in. The fingers against his hipbones sear.
"No shit," Marcus mumbles, not trying to moan.
If he looks down, between their chests bumping and the shit between, he can see Baird's cock halfway there. Shallow movements, like he's getting Marcus ready for it.
There's a fire deep in the Sergeant's stomach. Marcus shifts his hips down, arches his back off the bed, and his ankles dig into Baird's back, and finally, finally, Baird's cock is deep inside. It's pushing against his guts. Baird pulls back an inch and tries again.
"You sure this isn't--?" Baird starts. Marcus yanks his head up.
Baird's hips buck in retaliation. Marcus' fingers tighten in Baird's root, and a brief, high expression flashes across his face.
"I'm sure," The nice part of him wants to say, but it comes out as, "You got it, so shut the fuck up,"
Baird doesn't say anything. He finally fucks in. Hard, all the way in, all the way out. Marcus' head drops back, breathe punched out. Baird's dick drags over, and Marcus' legs fall apart to get it right there, and -- "There," Marcus all but demands. A subtle pain fights under the pleasure, lube dripping between his legs, brief visions of blue in his peripheral, dick so deep in Marcus might get dizzy. Baird brushes his prostate, thrusting with long, smooth strokes, and Marcus pants hard against the pillow. Their skin burns together.
"Jeez," Baird mumbles, hips pistoning. He sounds weak. "Bossy,"