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The man steps into the building, straightening his suit. He looks at his reflection in a glass, concluding that he appears decent enough, then he glances around in the bright white hall. Sleek and modern, way ahead of its time, everything looking more expensive than the other Foundation site he'd worked at previously. As expected. He's never been to this site before, never had access, per se.. but now, as O5-8, he's going to see so much more. He allows himself a fleeting, faint smile.
"O5-8, sir?"
O5-8, who's already forgotten his real previous name, turns around at the voice. A receptionist is standing at the desk now, smiling politely but perhaps slightly unnervingly at Eight. Eight nods and steps to the desk. The Receptionist presents him with a small device, and Eight presses his thumb against its screen. It lights up green, at which the Receptionist's smile widens.
"Welcome to Site ███. Your guide will arrive shortly. Please take a seat and a complementary snack from the machine if you wish."
The Receptionist, which Eight is now sure is some kind of anomaly itself instead of a regular human being, nods as they finish their probably generic lines, and leaves again. Eight shrugs it off, unphased. He's certain he'll experience stranger things around this site.
He follows the instructions of the anomaly and walks up to the snacks and drinks dispensing machine. He's browsing the selection when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. Whoever it is must be really damn silent, since Eight didn't hear nor sense anyone's presence. He turns around.
"Greetings." The tall man in front of Eight nods with a wide grin. He's big, but not unnaturally, maybe just.. unusually. He offers a hand, and Eight shakes it. A strong grip. "I'm O5-3. Your onboarding buddy." Three laughs at his own joke. "I'll be your first line of contact for the first few days. I'll lead you through the site, answer your questions about where the bathrooms are, blah blah.."
A glorified babysitter? Eight purses his lips. He doesn't think he needs that. He's a goddamn overseer now, just like this guy.. how is it any different?
Regardless, he nods gratefully. Wouldn't be good to get on anyone's bad side just yet.. besides, it might be useful to have someone available to help out with pointless shit like this.
"Thanks, Three. Show me around, then." Eight gives him a half smile, trying his best to sound pleasant.
Three gives him a short, generic tour around the site before leading him to his new office. They step in, Three staying at the door and leaning against the frame while Eight takes a look at the surroundings. It's just like the rest of the site… boring. Soulless. Eight's been called a lot of things before, heartless, ruthless.. but he's not soulless. He doesn't think he is, at least.
"You do whatever you want with it," Three shrugs with a frown when he sees Eight's displeased demeanor. He clearly doesn't give a fuck, though. "It's yours."
"Yeah, it needs some improvements for sure." Eight snickers before turning back to Three.
The taller man seems to be eyeing Eight.. sizing him up. Eight can't decide what he might be thinking, but it feels a bit like.. a predator looking at its prey before striking, maybe.
Eight raises a brow questioningly, and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
Three laughs. "Just checkin' you out. Say newbie, where have you worked before? What site? Or a GoI, perhaps?"
"Didn't you get the intel when you voted me in?"
"Nah, One was pretty vague about you. And the vote was just a formality.. he's had his eyes on you for a while, so you were pretty much in when the previous Eight, hm.. resigned."
"Then it's none of your business."
"I can still look it up anytime."
"Then look it up."
Three laughs again, a loud, boisterous sound.
"I like you." He steps up to Eight and places a palm on his shoulder. Eight flinches, but doesn't pull away. The hand feels large and heavy. "You got an attitude, huh?"
Eight shrugs.
"Meeting in an hour. Don't be late." Three winks at Eight before waving once and turning around to leave.
Eight takes a deep breath as soon as Three is gone, and turns back to his office. He already has an idea about a new interior.. and he's planning to conceal the very obviously-placed door, too... But he has time for that. He sits at his computer and starts it up.
He doesn't want to care, but his curiosity takes the better of him. He accesses Three's files and reads through them.
Eight sits down in the meeting room. He's a bit early, probably beginner's enthusiasm, but the room starts to fill soon enough.
"So that's why they wanted you so much.. they've been thinking of implementing the on-site nuclear warheads for a while, but didn't have a guy who could do it properly. Didn't think you were an army boy, though.."
Eight looks to his side. It's Three, of course, smoking a cigarette and leaning back in his chair next to Eight.
"I took you for an Insurgency kinda guy. Maybe even Coalition. Though I guess it's harder to get in there when you're anomalous yourself. It wouldn't be the first time, but still."
Eight stares at Three for a few silent seconds. It's not surprising that he'd already know, really. After all it only took Eight ten minutes to check Three's data too.
"On the other hand, you look exactly like someone from MC&D's. Well, not like I knew anyone from there before, thank god, but if I had to imagine, I'd imagine you."
Three looks delighted as if that was a compliment, a wide grin plastered on his face.
"You can’t choose your family.. but at least you can have some fun when you're bored and have way too much money to spend, huh?" He beams at Eight, then pats his shoulder again. He crushes the butt of his cig in an ashtray, and blows the last puff of smoke into Eight's face. "Join me for some good whiskey and a cigar later on. After this is over with and you settled in. Sound good?"
"Only if it's a very good whiskey."
"Got a bottle of 25 year old Macallan. Good enough?"
"That'll do."
Eight doesn't even question why Three might think it's worth offering that stuff for a random colleague he just met.. somehow, even without really knowing Three, it just makes sense. It's in character.
Eight hides a small smile behind his hand, and he doesn't want to admit to himself how he's actually looking forward to this meet-up.
He only checks himself out in the mirror once, to make sure he's looking presentable. He's still wearing the suit, but lost the jacket and loosened the tie. He decides it's good enough.
He's sent an MTF Agent to lead him to Three's office, Three clearly too busy (or too important) to do it himself. Eight doesn't speak a word as the Agent guides him through a hall that seemingly leads nowhere.
Eventually, they arrive in front of a door, and the Agent leaves Eight alone with a nod. Before he could knock, the door opens, and Three is standing in front of him, towering over him, that same grin Eight has now concluded must be his most basic expression.
"Eight, just in time. I like that. It's rude to be late, I'm sure you agree. Come in now, I don't bite. Often." Three laughs (this guy just finds himself hilarious, Eight thinks), and steps aside so Eight can enter.
And enter he does, the heavy door closing behind him and locks automatically. He looks around, instantly noting how this must be Three's actual living quarters instead of his office. It's lavish, clearly expensive, but not too distasteful. Eight tends to like it.
Three says nothing as Eight takes in the sight, just steps next to him with arms crossed.
"I always found a simple but luxurious interior more appealing than the steel fortresses the Foundation likes to put up." Three gives a side eye to Eight, waiting for his approval.
"Gotta agree on that one." Eight shrugs. He thinks it’s anything but 'simple', but he agrees on the tasteful part.
Three pats his back with a smirk.
"How about we sit down and have some of that whiskey? Maybe you can tell me about your past experiences, army boy."
He snorts as he leads the way, signaling Eight to sit down on a plush velvet sofa. Then he steps to a decorative glass cabinet, humming as he searches for the drink he promised.
Eight sits down and picks up a pen from Three's antique coffee table to fiddle with.. it has the MC&D's logo on it and the initials N.C. He wonders whether he's fully cut ties with them or not after joining the Foundation, when Three returns with two glasses and the bottle, skillfully balancing everything in his hands.
He grins when he sees Eight examining his stuff as he sets everything down on the table and takes a seat next to Eight.
"I'm sure you can see how it can be useful sometimes to have a connection with some obscenely rich people who deal in anomalous items. They don’t like me as much anymore, though." Three answers Eight's unspoken question as he lifts up the bottle of whiskey to pour some into the glasses. Then he raises the one closest to him, waiting for Eight to do the same. "Cheers," he smirks and clinks his glass with Eight's.
"Fuck me.. this is good." Eight lets out a satisfied hum after the first sip, lifting up the glass to examine the liquid, as if that's gonna reveal its secrets. "Why the hell would you waste it on a random colleague you just met?"
Three's grin widens, if that's even possible. He puts down his now empty glass, then places his palm on Eight's thigh, gently, almost like asking for permission.. just leaving it there when the man doesn't tell him otherwise.
"Can't I be nice with my dear new colleague?" Three says sweetly. "Tell me about yourself.. How are things at Site 120? I've heard good things about it.. reality benders like yourself, containing reality altering SCPs, huh?" Three chuckles and his fingers move subtly, inching closer to Eight's inner thigh.
Eight shivers a bit.
"I'm sure you can find every info they have on 120 the same way you found out all this stuff about me." He huffs.
"Oh, I sure can. Like I found out about your heavily redacted army time.. not the boring world war stuff, but the military base.." Three hums as if he was actually trying to remember it. "I guess unstable Type Greens and an access to a bunch of stuff that can be used to build weapons really don't mix well.."
"Shut the fuck up." Eight hisses, but Three completely disregards it.
"That was a really big explosion. I wonder what you put in it.. I mean, besides some Type Green fuckery.. I have no clue about weapons, but it's actually quite impressive how big a destruction you managed to cause.."
"It's none of your fuckin' business." Eight fumes. Three ignores his anger.
"Yeah, honestly I don't care." Three shrugs as he leans closer to Eight, staring at his face. He's pleasant looking, dark eyes and dark hair, nice jawline.. Three thinks he rather likes him. And he can hear Eight's heartbeat picking up just a little as a response to his closeness.
"Then what do you want?" Eight puts down his glass with a cold expression. Three's now so close his hot breath tickles Eight's face.
"You spilled some of that.." Three tsk's. "Do you know how expensive it is? What a waste.. let me just.."
Eight's lips part as Three places a soft kiss on his chin where the single drop of whiskey fell. He lets out a soundless gasp, inaudible but Three still picks up on it, judging by the satisfied little sound he makes.
"Do you greet all your new colleagues like this?" Eight asks, his previous annoyance put aside, sounding slightly breathless.
Three chuckles quietly. "Only the ones I want to get to know a bit more… intimately."
"I never got that cigar." Eight frowns, and it actually makes Three laugh.
"A man of culture, huh? Got your priorities right.. lemme' just grab it." Three gives Eight's thigh a little squeeze before getting up and fetching a handcrafted wooden box. He opens the lid carefully in front of Eight, letting him have a look. "Help yourself."
Eight takes a cigar, rolling it between his fingers carefully to have a feel. "I don’t know anything about cigars.. but this looks nice."
"It is nice. Better than cheap cigarettes." Three nods with a grin and grabs one too, then puts the box down on the table along with a cutter and a box of wooden matches.
"This is the most anyone's spent to get in my pants before." Eight snickers, and Three laughs along.
"I must be on the right track then. Not like you'll need it soon when you start getting that O5 paycheck though. Light?"
"Already got." Eight takes a slow drag of the cigar, tasting it. "Yeah, damn. As good as I thought."
"What a rude Type Green. Not even offering to anomalously prep mine." Three shakes his head with a sneer as he cuts off the cap.
"You just had to ask."
Eight flicks off the first bit of ash into the tray then turns to Three. Three grins as Eight focuses on his cigar and it lights up gradually, perfectly even.
"Not bad. Stylish." He hums appreciatively as he takes a few puffs. He reaches out to pour himself some more whiskey too. "Best enjoyed together, right?" He winks at Eight, and Eight takes his own glass in agreement.
"So why does a man like yourself leave Marshall's and come to the Foundation? I'd have thought you have more fun over there.. more.. extravagant parties, giant yachts, using anomalies for your own benefits.." Eight ponders, perhaps a bit mockingly.
"Oh, please." Three laughs at the last part. "The O5 uses anomalies to their benefit just as much.. if not more."
Eight shrugs. "I always thought it was more justified since we actually try to change the world for the better.. not like the Insurgency.. or Marshall. Then again, it's none of my business. I'm just doing my job."
"I know, I know.. gotta stay healthy and live for a very long time, so the Foundation isn't left without our wise guidance." Three hums, tone slightly sarcastic. "I'm not disagreeing with you.. I do wanna live a long and healthy life myself, who am I to judge? I'm just saying, MC&D's.. they barely have any goals, good or bad.. they just wanna enjoy the game."
There's silence after that. Not the awkward kind, the two just enjoying the whiskey and the cigars, considering each other's words.
"You sure stare a lot." Eight grumbles a bit after a while, noticing how Three is eyeing him again.
"Yeah. I just can't help but imagine your lips around something other than that cigar." Three grins shamelessly as he flicks some ash off his own cigar, not taking his eyes off Eight for a second.
Eight is speechless by how straightforward Three is.. but he can't deny that his pants start to feel more and more uncomfortable. Especially when Three puts his palm back on his thigh, stroking him in a much less subtle way than before.
Eight says nothing. He downs the remains of his drink, then puts the glass on the table and takes a drag off the cigar, all followed by Three's curious observation.
"If you're so eager.. why don't you demonstrate what you want?" Eight frowns.
"Gladly."
Three leans over to claim Eight's lips, soft and slow at first but becoming more and more eager when Eight responds. He parts his lips in a soundless gasp, and Eight takes this opportunity to shove his tongue inside his mouth, rough and needy. Three hums appreciatively as their tongues tangle, tasting the smoke and whiskey on each other.
When they part, they're panting heavily, their faces flushed.
"Get on your knees, posh brat." Eight breathes out, and it makes Three grin widely.
"So demanding..” he hums as he sinks to his knees, looking into Eight’s eyes as he does so. “Like being in control? Bet you got a hard-on when you got on the council.. did you jerk off?”
“Use that mouth for something other than yapping, will you?” Eight growls as he grabs Three’s chin and runs his thumb along his lower lip. He finds him pretty.. the silver hair, just long enough to tie it up, the piercing blue eyes, even that goddamn grin he always has on.. oh yeah, he'll have so much fun with this whiny rich boy.
"Your wish is my command." He purrs as he reaches over to undo Eight's belt. He smirks a little, seeing how hard he is already. He yanks his pants just down to his knees, so he can run his fingers along the man's thighs. Eight shivers, and Three leans down to press his lips against the warm skin.
"Ah-are you just gonna.. fuckin' tease me?" Eight's trying to sound as collected as he can as Three kisses up his inner thighs, painfully slowly, occasionally dragging his teeth along the skin just to get even more reactions out of him.
Three chuckles as he kisses a spot that makes Eight shudder.
"I just want to take my time.. I am known to enjoy the finer things in life." Three hums and goes right back, eliciting another shiver from the man above him. "You can, of course, try begging me for it.. maybe I take pity on you."
"Fuck off." Eight breathes out, making Three chuckle. Like hell he's gonna beg for this bastard.. doesn't matter how painfully hard he was. "You'll be the one begging, fucking brat."
Three laughs more. "Your body tells otherwise.. in a way, you're already begging for it. I just want to hear you say it."
Eight lets out another deep sigh as he feels Three's tongue on his skin, working together with those lips.. and his cock gives a desperate throb as he imagines them around his aching length.
Three does take pity, eventually. Or maybe he gets impatient, too. He moves up, wrapping his fingers around Eight's length loosely, giving him a few strokes. Eight bucks his hip into it before he could stop himself.
"Could I get you to fuck my fist? It'd be hot to see you so desperate." Three chuckles, the comment earning him a groan. "We'll get there.."
"Or, I'm gonna slap you in the fucking face if you keep teasing me." Eight grits his teeth.
Three winks at him and leans over to lick a hot stripe along Eight's length, from base to tip, spending some extra time circling his tongue around the tip and that finally earns him the first moan from the man. Eight instantly bites down on his lower lip, but it's too late.
"Beautiful sound. Wanna hear it more." Three mutters, kissing up the length and slowly guiding it between his lips.
Eight's hip jerks forward when he feels the soft lips around his most sensitive part, the wet heat enveloping him. His hand sneaks into Three's hair on its own, entwining his fingers in the white locks and yanking on them. Three lets out a satisfied rumble at that, and takes him deeper.
He really does take his sweet time savoring Eight like he's tasting fine wine, tongue wrapping around the length while he's moving his head up and down on it.. and Eight doesn't notice when his nails start digging into the sofa's soft velvet, nearly tearing a hole in it.
"Y-you.. you're.. not bad.." Eight breathes out, despising how his voice falters, but Three is seemingly very pleased with it.
He leans away, flicking his tongue along the tip one last time, and grins. His face is flushed and there's drool on his chin. He grabs a golden laced serviette to wipe it off, like he just finished a fine meal. Eight finds him ridiculous, but also charming, in a way.
"I know," he says slightly raspily. "But I would like to have some fun tonight, too. We can't have you come too quickly."
He leans on his palms on the sofa and lifts himself up, legs slightly wobbly from kneeling. As he gets on his feet, his crotch is now at eye level for Eight, and he can see the tent in his pants. He looks big.
Eight instinctively reaches out and hooks his fingers into the hem of Three's suit pants, pulling him closer. Three follows eagerly.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he groans and strokes Eight's dark locks, holding the back of his head.
"You're one to talk.. fuckin' tease." Eight snorts, but he leans forward to nuzzle his face against the bulge in Three's pants, earning him a satisfied sigh from the other.
Three quickly unbuttons his pants and shoves it down, his cock nearly hitting Eight's face. He's slightly bigger than Eight but not by much, and he's nice and thick. Eight grips into Three's thighs as he leans over and guides his cock in his mouth without the help of his hands, deepthroating him with ease.
"Holy shit–" Three's hips stutter and his legs tremble as he feels Eight's throat contract around his dick. "Where the fuck did you learn that–"
Eight pulls back, releasing Three's cock with a wet pop, and he whines.
"Beg for it." Eight says darkly, still so close to Three's cock that his breath tickles his tip.
"Oh, come on–"
"I said beg for it. Or I'll leave you here and you can have a sad solo session alone." Eight growls, and the authority in his voice does some wonderful things to Three.
"Pleease, Eight. Please, suck me off." Three begs sweetly. "Your mouth is so nice and warm. I want you."
Eight smiles faintly as he goes back, bobbing his head up and down Three's cock, making him whine like a bitch. He stops abruptly, when he feels that Three's getting closer, and he actually cries out in frustration.
"Get out of your pants and sit in my lap. Be a good little brat for me, Three." Eight hums, and spreads his thigh, cock still standing proud, tip glistening from pre.
Three bites the inside of his cheek as his cock throbs in anticipation. He gets out of his pants swiftly, only leaving his oxfords on. He climbs up to the sofa, straddling Eight's lap.
Eight runs his hands along Three's sides, reaching under the white shirt and making him shiver.
"Fuck me. Please." Three breathes out and leans down to kiss Eight, this time more gently. He feels Eight's palm on his face, stroking his flushed skin.
Eight produces a condom from somewhere and hastily puts it on. Then his other hand reaches down to line up his cock with Three's entrance, and push in. He goes slowly and gradually, but it's not really necessary from the way Three's body takes him, so perfectly, like he was made for him.
"So nice around my cock." He groans. "You're my bitch now.. I just know you'll come back.. begging for more." he laughs faintly as Three rolls his hips, squeezing down on Eight's cock just right. "God damn."
"Yes.. fuck.. you.. you'd love that, wouldn't you? If.. if I came back and begged for your cock." Three breathes out, then suddenly moans louder as Eight's cock brushes against his prostate. "Fuck, if you.. if you keep doing that, you'll have me.. begging.."
Eight smirks, and directs his thrusts into that one spot, hammering against it, making Three cry out and squirm around in his lap.
"Touch me.. please.. Eight, fuck, I need your hand on my cock right now." Three's eyes are hazy as he rides Eight, his cock constantly ramming against that one spot.
Eight's feeling closer and closer as well, with Three's walls clenching around him like that he knows he doesn't have much patience left. He reaches out with a shaky hand and wraps his fingers around Three's length, circling his thumb around his tip and moving his fist from base to top, and Three can't hold back anymore.
He throws his head back as his cock twitches and he cums all over Eight's hand and his own stomach, trembling in his whole body as he rides out the aftershocks. Eight finishes too after a few more erratic thrusts, pulling Three into a kiss as he reaches climax.
They pant into each other's mouth for a while after, between slow kisses and nipping at the other's lips.
Eight raises his hand, examining Three's spend on his fingers.
"Better lick this clean for me." He mutters, pressing them against Three's lips.
He obediently cleans up Eight's fingers, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.
"If you didn't wrung me dry, I'd take you for round two.. good boy." He snickers, patting Three's cheek.
Three snorts as he gets off of Eight's lap, wiping himself more or less clean before dressing up again. He cleans up Eight as well, earning himself a little praise, which he likes more than he'd care to admit.
They sit for a while on the sofa just like that in comfortable silence, sipping more whiskey and finishing their cigars.
"I don't think it was your fault."
Eight's head snaps to the side. Three's staring at him again.
"What?" he groans, and Three shrugs.
"The explosion."
Eight frowns at the mention of that, but he's not hostile about it anymore.
"You already got in my pants. You don't need to play nice." He snorts, shaking his head before turning back to his drink.
"No, I mean it." Three scoots a bit closer to Eight. "I mean.. I have no fucking clue about being a Type Green, obviously. But from what I've heard, it sounds like a nightmare once you enter the later phases. You lose control of yourself, do things you wouldn't normally do. I think you did what you thought was right at that time, and you had an accident. A big fuckin' accident, but still something you didn't mean. So, all I'm saying is... I wouldn't beat myself up over it. Nothing you can do about it now. And you're an okay guy."
Eight listens quietly. He's never thought that someone would ever say something like this to him, not genuinely, at least.. and definitely not some pompous MC&D's asshole. He gives him a faint smile, then pats his shoulder.
"Yeah. I think you're an okay guy too, Marshall's boy."
Three snickers. "Carter's, actually."
Eight rolls his eyes.
"Shut up and pour me some more of that whiskey."