Archive of Our Own

Impacts and grunts rang out over the strut. Venom paced between the lines of soldiers as the pairs ran their drills. He adjusted Bat's grip on Barracuda's wrist and nudged Cat's footing, then paused by where Sly Tiger was grappling Iron Badger. That hold from the back was one Badger had been struggling with for days. He was good with a gun, but he had a small build and not a lot of talent when it came to hand to hand combat. Tiger, who had a few inches and plenty of pounds on him, wasn't playing easy. As Venom watched, Badger went still for a moment. He tensed his body, dropped, and slung Tiger over his shoulder so he hit the ground hard enough to make it shake underfoot.

Badger hopped to his feet. "I did it, Boss!"

"Good work," Venom said.

The praise made him break into a disbelieving, boyish grin. Venom gave him a nod of approval.

He was moving on when he heard a snarl. He turned back in time to catch Tiger lashing out with his feet from the ground. The vicious kick took Badger's legs right out from under him. The instant he was down Tiger was on him.

It was a world apart from the controlled choreography of drills. That crack of his fist meeting his face was one man trying to break another. Venom grabbed his upraised arm and yanked him off Badger hard enough to send him sliding across the deck.

It was ugly, but he couldn't say it was a surprise.

"Jesus, Tiger," somebody said.

There was a bright flag of blood smeared across Badger's face. He raised up on his elbow and touched his fingers gingerly to his nose. Venom knelt beside him and moved his hand away.

"It looks worse than it is," he said. He clasped Badger by the wrist to pull him up, and the recruit's fingertips left their red mark on the cuff of Venom's sleeve. A few feet away, Lion was offering the same assistance to Tiger, who sat up and spat at him to mind his own damn business.

The rest of the trainees had stopped in midmotion, eyes fixed on their boss. A talk wasn't going to do it this time.

He strode over and stood above Tiger, who was rubbing his knuckles and scowling. When he felt he shadow over him and looked up, it was clear on his face he'd just remembered to get worried.

What Venom said was, "Be at the Battle Gear hangar in ten minutes."

He turned and his eye swept out over the silently watching soldiers.

"Badger. Dark Bear. Roaring Goat. Razor Mammoth. Frantic Lion. Greedy Barracuda. You too. There's something I need you to demonstrate. The rest of you are dismissed."

Venom was flanked by salutes as he walked away.

It wasn't the first time the soldier had lashed out at one of his comrades. One way or another, it would be the last.

One option was diving into the ocean and swimming for it.

Tiger knew what was going to happen. To demonstrate the value of teamwork, they were going to beat the shit out of him. He'd known he was going to get into trouble sooner or later, and it was a goddamn stupid thing to do right then and there, but the way the bastard had embarrassed him in front of the boss was too much to take lying down. He didn't regret it, either. It was worth the satisfaction of wiping the smug look off his face, even if the thing that lingered and crawled in the back of his mind was that the look in the boss's eye had been disappointment.

Fine. He'd fought plenty back home in Russia, he'd done his tour in Afghanistan. It wouldn't be the first time he'd taken some bruises. Wouldn't even be the first time the boss had hit him. They'd all had that bonding experience where they all talked about the last thing they remembered before they woke up in a helicopter with a bunch of other groaning men and a friendly pilot giving a backwards wave and saying, Welcome on board. His was hearing a strange hissing sound and turning around to get a flying metal fist in the face. He wasn't running away, even if the choppy water looked cool and inviting in comparison. He could take that, he could take this.

It'd prove he was worth keeping.

Tiger reported to the Battle Gear lab right on time.

The place smelled like oil, and was lighted but empty. These days, with that scumbag Emmerich floating out in the ocean somewhere getting eaten alive by seagulls if there was any justice in the world, the hangar was only used for holding the Gear, and that was out on deployment now. His boots rang on the steel floor.

The third time his eyes swept the room, when he was certain he was alone, he saw the boss.

"Boss!" He straightened and saluted.

He stood in the shadows under the catwalk, so still Tiger suspected a decoy and felt like an idiot until his red hand beckoned.

"Boss?" Fighting down the bad feeling in his gut, Tiger approached.

The boss gestured to him to stand with his back to one of the steel supports. Asking questions didn't get you anywhere with this guy, so Tiger didn't. The boss held his hand up to tell him to wait, then disappeared behind him.

Two things clicked in the same instant.

One, the realization that Tiger had made some very bad decisions in his life.

Two, the handcuffs around his wrists.

"Wait!" Panic fought metal and lost, getting him a clang and a hard yank on his wrists for a consolation prize. "Come on, I barely touched him!"

"Calm down." The boss appeared in front of him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and shoved him down so he was sitting on the floor. "Nobody's going to lay a hand on you. That's my word."

"What-"

A block of light was tossed over the floor by the door opening. Everyone the boss had named filed in, Badger was first, with the blood cleaned off of his face but still clinging in a couple flecks to his nose, and a satisfying purple shiner over his eye. Tiger shut up. The boss's word was one thing you could rely on, and, more importantly, like hell was he going to let this little bastard see him scared or hear him say please.

The six of them each gave him a look as they lined up in front of the boss. Tiger set his jaw and refused to avoid eye contact. They were all in the middle of the room, with him off to the side, like this was just a normal training session and there wasn't anybody chained to anything. They all waited for an explanation.

The boss looked at each of them and said, "You're all here because I'm happy with you."

They all puffed up, exactly like you did when the boss said you did something right or gave you a nod and you felt like the most important son of a bitch on the planet. Most of them managed to keep some dignity but Goat flat out grinned like an idiot.

When the boss's eye fixed on Tiger, all their gazes followed. He continued, "I'm not happy with him."

And all Tiger could think was that it wasn't goddamn right. He was tough, he was loyal, he was as good a soldier as anybody could ask for. So what if he got in fights now and then? Nobody else he'd worked for had ever cared.

"You," the boss said, "are all here on a volunteer basis. You don't want to stick around, the door's open. Understood?"

He got a chorus of Yes, Boss! Sure. It wasn't ominous and gut-churning to them. What really made Tiger's teeth clench was the injustice. What was so special about these assholes? They weren't exactly elites. Mammoth for one had somehow learned all about different kinds of bushes and flowers without ever learning shit from shinola when it came to anything useful, and Barracuda for another would have to take a six-week correspondence course to qualify as mediocre.

"We're all in this together. We have to be able to trust each other and take care of each other, because nobody else is going to. We're comrades. You've all shown me you understand that. Now I want to show you."

If it was just going to be a lecture, Tiger didn't need to get tied up for that. He couldn't be getting off that easy. Could he?

"Bear," the boss said, and the coward who hung back at the rear of every action stepped forward. (His story went, "I looked over at a little clinking noise I heard, then the next thing I know, somebody's slamming me into the ground. So now I'm here, and I always keep an empty magazine around for good luck.")

The boss came close enough to grapple, rested his hand on his shoulder, and came closer. There was just enough time to think What the hell is he going to do, kiss him? before he was kissing him.

Bear's spine jolted straight like he'd been hit with lightning. From where he was, all Tiger could see was the black hair on the back of Bear's head. A second later, even at a distance, he could hear him trying to catch his breath. He fell back an unsteady step.

Every one of them stood absolutely still. They didn't make a sound.

The boss gave them a little smile and said, "Who's next?"

It shouldn't have been possible for so many people to shout "Boss!" in unison that fast.

The fastest must have been Lion. ("I was walking patrol between Nova Braga and Ditadi when I saw the grass bend, and there was this blur in the air. It must have been going as fast as a Jeep. I can tell you, it felt like one when it hit me.") Everybody liked him, and you couldn't help hating a guy like that. He was an idiot on the intel team whose ass the boss had had to save when he got himself captured, and now the boss was letting him tower over him. He was resting his red hand on the small of his back. It was probably as cold as the concrete under Tiger's ass. A few long seconds after the boss let go Lion's eyes opened again, and he let out a soft little mm sound.

Mammoth grabbed back. (”Something rolled and tapped on my boot. You know what I saw when I looked down? A grenade. I didn't even have time to be scared. I just thought, 'Huh, is that it? That's how I'm gonna die? Is that gas?'”) He was a broad, stocky guy, and his big blunt hand clutched onto the scarf draped over the boss's shoulder. When he was let go, it didn't look much like he was going to stay on his feet.

He still handled it better than Goat, who took his kiss and was left with an idiotic grin that looked like it wasn't going to fade until the sun went out. (“Somebody grabbed me from behind and said in my ear, 'Where're the others?' I knew this was the demon, so I told him fuck you, friend, you're gonna have to kill me.” “Really?” “Hell no. I nearly pissed myself.”) Tiger had seen him at the range. He would put fifty-fifty odds on him being able to make a hit as long as the enemy was painted bright yellow, standing real still, and also a building.

Tiger's fists clenched behind him. They were all doing it wrong. Badger (”Something bit me on the neck. I grabbed for the mosquito and got a tranq dart.”) just rested his hand on the boss's arm. He didn't mold himself against him so he could feel the iron of his muscle up close, he didn't run his hands over every part of him he could reach, he didn't bury his hand in his hair and tug the ponytail loose. He didn't even try. He just let it happen and let it be over, just stood there with his lips gone pink and said a quiet, "Thank you, Boss," and the boss gave him a little personal smile and nothing about life was fucking fair.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Tiger could out-CQC him without breaking a sweat. It was just plain luck that he'd gotten that throw in today, and it was him the boss was treating like he was something special.

Tiger was preparing the dirtiest look his features could pull off for when Badger gave him a smug, self-satisfied smirk, but it was wasted. He didn't even look at him.

Barracuda was waiting patiently, hands behind him at parade rest. ( “I didn't see him. He hit me.”) When the boss came to him, his hand rested almost delicately on his red forearm. If Tiger strained against the cuffs, he could just get the right angle to glimpse the boss's face as he kissed him. Scars marking him, his eye closed, so beautiful it hurt like a hot iron. The cuffs dug into his wrists.

Then, with a little stroke to Barracuda's hip, the boss left him. As he strode toward him, looming, Tiger froze in dread and anticipation. It was his turn, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The boss walked right past him.

He went to the wall and shut off the outer set of lights with a heavy snapping noise. Tiger blinked rapidly to adjust to the dark that fell over him. The center of the hangar and everyone standing there in one degree or another of dazed bliss were left lit up like a stage. The lights poured over the boss as he came closer, gestured to himself and said, "Go ahead. Get this off me."

They were all on him. They were just a few steps away, but they didn't even glance at Tiger. Tiger could only catch glimpses of what was happening between the spaces between their bodies in the wall they made around him, like sneaking glances through the gaps in a picket fence. Lion undid his scarf and pulled it reverently off from around his shoulders. In tandem, mirroring each other, Bear and Badger unclipped the straps at either side of the ammo pouch rig that rested over his torso. Barracuda undid the holster bearing his gun and lifted it away, stepping gracefully over Mammoth where he was kneeling and tugging the knots free on the boss's boots. Tiger leaned hard to the right to see around him to Goat, who was undoing the boss's belt. He could see his fingers hesitate and the way his adam's apple bobbed before he unclipped the straps that went under the boss's legs. So that was what it took to shut him up.

The boss sighed when Goat lifted the belt and its heavy canteen and Walkman away. It was easy to be afraid of the boss when you first got recruited, until you learned things like how he loved music, or how often you could see him standing at the railing of the Conservation Platform watching the sheep, or how ending up here meant you hadn't been kidnapped but chosen. They took off the pad over his right arm, and the brace on his left leg. Then he was in camo like anybody else, right in reach.

Touch him, idiots, Tiger thought ferociously at them. They were all just standing there looking at him, except for Mammoth, who was still on his knees and caressing his boot. The chain between the handcuffs sawed at the steel support behind him. If he'd been free, he wouldn't've just been standing there awed. He would have had the nerve. He would have.

It was Bear - dull, gutless Bear, who never did or said anything somebody else hadn't come up with first - who somehow found the nerve to say, "Can we, Boss?"

The boss spread his arms and said, "I'm all yours."

He really let them. Helped, too. Badger opened the buttons down the front of his shirt, and he shrugged it off into Barracuda's hands as he took care to work the left sleeve over his prosthetic. The diamonds on the shoulder glinted in the light as Barracuda set it down. Badger kissed the red palm that must be smooth and metallic against his lips, and his eyes closed and he leaned into it when the boss's fingers cupped his cheek in a touch that had to feel cool as a breeze out of heaven if your skin was heated and sweaty and you couldn't even get your hands free to wipe your brow. Tiger would have sworn Mammoth's slow, lazy hands weren't physically capable of moving as quick as they did to undo the boss's pants.

Bare, his torso was a map of scars. Bear kissed the pink line that sloped across his pectoral, while Lion's thumb traced the one that marked his forearm, and Goat stroked the straps that held on his left arm. Places where the light fell unevenly had to be buried fragments of shrapnel that Barracuda must be able to feel as texture under his lips when he kissed his shoulder.

"Jesus," Goat said softly. "Look at you."

All the hurt he'd lived through was written on him, appearing and disappearing under the roaming hands of his men. Just seeing it made you ache in your own skin and be proud. Tiger had a couple good ones, like the razor-wire rip across his thigh, and he took every chance he got to show them off and tell the story. The boss had so many he probably couldn't even remember where they all came from, and he survived in silence. He kept quiet now, too, just shifting his hips little when Mammoth eased his pants down, with just the slightly quicker rise and fall of his chest and the way his head tipped back and his eye closed to show his enjoyment. Tiger's hands clenched behind him and itched to feel the roughness of his beard. He would smell like blood and smoke. In the next moment all of the undeserving bastards blocked his view, then a breath rose from all of them at once, like they'd lost the same air, and when Mammoth moved out of the way Tiger saw the boss standing tall and proud, naked to the skin.

"Goddamn," breathed Bear, and if he could be that eloquent at a moment like this, maybe he wasn't so dumb after all.

"Wow," said Badger.

Under his breath Goat muttered to Mammoth, "Now I can die happy."

Lion just made a little, longing noise. Tiger couldn't even blame him, once he saw that their boss, the man they would all walk into hell for, happened to have the firmest, sweetest ass he'd ever seen.

There were scars there too. They were everywhere. Thick and thin, jagged and smooth, notched like stitches on denim and in flat coin-circles where bullets had failed to stop him. A lesser man would have been killed a dozen times over.

There was a hint of smile tugging at the boss's lips that could kill a man all by itself, and he said, "Are you just going to look or what?"

That was a it took before they were all touching him, kissing him, their hands all over him, Bear got a handful of his ass, Barracuda dragged his palms over his abs, Goat kissed up his arm and murmured how goddamn gorgeous he was, Badger nestled his face against his neck, and it was too fucking much. Tiger lunged against his bonds with an impact that jarred his shoulders and rattled the chain loud enough it cut right through the soft sounds of admiration and made them all turn their eyes to him with a faint surprise, like he'd been forgotten.

"Boss!" he cried out, and after it came the question that had been pounding against the sides of his skull ever since he'd called out the list of names. Tiger's voice jangled metallic off the walls. "Damn it, Boss! Why them?"

He knew why he was getting punished, but not what in the hell the boss saw in them that was worth rewarding.

The boss's eye fixed on him, and he knew this time he was going to get hit.

The boss said, "You tell me."

Before Tiger could begin to figure out what in the hell that was supposed to mean, the boss turned his back on him and took Goat in his arms. A sappy grin plastered itself over the blond bastard's face while the boss manhandled him around so his back was against his naked body, like being interrogated from behind, except with the boss's hand pulling his shirt open instead of holding a knife at his throat. He turned him toward Tiger and their eyes met. The boss's hand worked down but left Goat's belt on, trapping his open shirt where it revealed a swath of firm skin.

The boss's eye fixed on Tiger from over Goat's shoulder.

"You," he said, metal fingers stroking between Goat's abdominal muscles in a way that made his breath hitch and his eyes widen, "Tell me."

The chain clanged against the steel support. Tiger wasn't proud of the high edge in his voice. "How the hell should I know?"

"Try," said the boss. His right hand flicked Goat's nipple and he jumped and groaned, pressing himself against the boss's naked body that he was hiding from view like a selfish asshole.

"You have a thing for loudmouth morons?"

Goat's eyes rolled. "This is why you're tied up, Sly."

The boss said, "Try harder."

How was he supposed to do that when the boss's fingers were tracing little circles on Goat's skin? But the boss was the kind of guy whose orders got through, whether you were on fire or out of your mind, whether they were possible or not.

"He's a decent shot," Tiger admitted.

"Better," the boss said. He unclipped Goat's belt and it hit the floor with a clang. His shirt fell open so you could see that his skin had its own collection of raised pink lines and round telltale traces of bullets that brought back a memory stark as a slap in the face.

"He's a tough bastard," Tiger said, seizing on it. "That time those assholes tried to get onto the FOB, he had so much blood on him I thought he was a corpse, but he finished the mission. He should've been given up for dead, but he kicked one of them off what's ours and right into the ocean. Nothing could stop him."

Goat looked more surprised by that than he had been to see the boss drop his pants. Tiger glared at him and and dared him not to take the damn compliment.

"There you go," the boss said with warm satisfaction. He stopped holding back and his hands caressed hungrily all over Goat's upper body before plunging into his pants and making him toss his head back and gasp. He shifted him to his right arm and kept his right hand working while he gestured to Mammoth with a snap of his fingers that cast off sparks.

Mammoth wasn't what you'd call pretty, with a short, solid build, blunt features, red hair and an all-around squareness that came together to give you the idea that his father was a peasant and his mother was a pile of bricks. The boss wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close, where he fit right under his chin.

"What about him?" the boss prompted. His arm around Mammoth's waist must have been as unbreakable a hold as the steel around Tiger's wrists.

Tiger was getting the idea. The more he talked, the more he saw, and the incentive made him think quicker even over the sound of the little rhythmic breaths Goat was making. Mammoth wasn't anything to write home about when it came to guns or hand-to-hand combat. He'd been on the R&D unit for a while but he was only middling at that, and he was no doctor, but they'd moved him to medical because-

"Plants," Tiger said, eyes fixed on the boss's hand caressing Mammoth's hip. "He knows about plants. That time that molotov burned the shit out of Hawk, he says they put something on it that took the pain out, and they said it was something of his. Says it saved his hands."

"You're getting the idea," he said, and approval in the boss's voice was like every liquor Tiger couldn't afford. He gave Mammoth's lips a deep kiss and his ass a full caress that made Mammoth's body tighten. The metal must be warm by now. It must feel strange to have a machine touch you like that, to the boss's direction. He would know exactly how much force to put into it to get your attention.

The boss pulled his hand out of Goat's pants, and who knew a big guy like Goat could whimper like that? Tiger could laugh at him if it weren't for how the noises slipping out under his breath weren't that different. The boss stepped back and slapped Goat and Mammoth both on the ass.

"Get his clothes off," he said. It wasn't real clear which one he meant and from the looks of them it didn't matter.

When they moved away the boss was exposed in all his glory, all his scars, and his hard, thick cock that Tiger couldn't tear his eyes away from. He didn't get long to admire before the boss was moving in front of Lion, who straightened up to attention with the instinct that grabbed you by the bones the second the boss first laid his eye on you as one of his men. Being naked was supposed to make people look vulnerable. The boss it just made look like a wild man, like someone discovered after ten years in the desert who it turned out didn't have any use for civilization.

The boss sank to his knees.

"Boss!" Lion said with a note of alarm, stepping back by reflex, but the boss's hands caught him. "Are you sure you..."

"I'm sure." He pulled up Lion's shirt and darted kisses to his stomach, but didn't dip any lower. "Keep talking," he tossed toward Tiger with a glitter of his eye.

"Lion's..." Tiger's neurons flared uselessly and faded. They were focused on the boss holding Lion's shirt up and on trying to picture how it would feel to have his face nuzzling your skin and the piece of shrapnel at his forehead scraping real light and teasing you. "...dead average. Got sloppy and got himself captured."

He couldn't tell whether the strangled sound Lion made was because of that or because the boss's hands had paused with his fly half-open and were inching toward doing it up again.

Desperately, Tiger cast his mind around. Lion, Lion, what was he good for? His hand was resting on the boss's shoulder and his dark eyes were fixed on Tiger. Tiger's gaze darted around for help, and got nothing but intense stares, even from the half-dressed Mammoth and Goat.

"Asshole," Mammoth said, managing a good spark of heat for a guy stepping out of his pants and standing there in his underwear, "you know he's better-"

The boss's upheld hand stopped him.

Better than you, he was going to say. Tiger was more confused than pissed off. Better at what? Tiger's scores at the range left him in the dust, and he could sneak and scout circles around him.

The boss made a motion to stand.

"He's not bad-looking?"

He settled back to his knees but gave him a look.

"Not bad?" Mammoth repeated incredulously.

All right, so he had a point there. Lion was irritatingly handsome, with an easy smile and biceps you could crack walnuts on. He was the kind of guy who when you got paired to practice grappling with him, you kept it in the back of your head for the next time you had privacy and needed inspiration, but his skills were nothing to write home about and his opinions about Bulgakov were just fucking wrong. While he was captured you'd hardy notice he was gone, except that guys in the intel unit were on edge and easier to pick fights with, because nobody was there to-

Lion was daring to thread his fingers through the boss's hair when inspiration jolted Tiger. "He plays peacemaker. He has some kind of trick about talking people down, making them like each other. Makes them happy."

A warm, affirming noise came from the boss's throat, which would've been plenty to keep his attention even if he hadn't then pulled out Lion's cock and wrapped his lips around it.

"Holy shit," said Badger.

One thing about the boss was you always got the feeling he was doing everything with his full attention. His hair swayed as his head moved back and forth, and his face moved in and out of the light.

"Fuck, Boss," Lion said. His voice strangely tamped down, like he was afraid if he moved or breathed too much it'd break the spell. "Christ, that's good."

The boss's red hand rested on Lion's thigh. He didn't slow down on sucking Lion's cock as he lifted the other hand and beckoned.

"Me?" Bear said, looking caught flat-footed.

The boss nodded and went mm-hm around his mouthful in a way that made Lion's hand clutch hard in his hair.

You don't second guess that, dumbass, Tiger thought. Resentment made his bound hands tremble. You say yes sir.

He really was something else, the boss. He couldn't even see to the side Bear was coming from, but he managed to undo his belt and his fly and caress his stomach without ever putting a hitch in what else he was doing.

His hand didn't go into lower. It stroked back and forth in a holding pattern, giving a glimpse now and then of Bear's abdomen. It was a pretty firm one - Tiger had punched it once, one of the times when the bastard was trying to show him up or cut him down. If Tiger's hate for Badger was sudden spikes like icicles, his hate for Bear was low and constant, the freezing slush you had to wade through ankle-deep while it sloshed over the tops of your boots. Tiger was a connoisseur of these things.

Bear's eyes rested heavy on him.

It was too much to take, and Tiger's lips pulled back in a snarl. "What do you want from me?" His breath was harsh, and pain crept into his voice. It was the cuffs digging into his wrists, right up against the bone. "I've killed more of the enemy in one sortie than he has in a dozen. He doesn't deserve your time."

The boss's mouth lifted from Lion's cock. He fixed Tiger with a look that had something stranger than anger, and said, "I say he does."

Emboldened by praise he couldn't have earned, Bear said with some regret, "You're not going to get anywhere, Boss." He looked straight at Tiger. "I've heard plenty from you. You called me slow. Called me a coward, since I stick near the back of the pack."

Just stating the dead-end like that, being so sure that Tiger couldn't do it, pissed him off and perversely made him burn to find some way to compliment the bastard just to throw it in his face. His voice didn't have any of the heat it did the times they shoved and yelled in each other's faces. It was even, nothing but plain facts. The trick was, he realized in a rush as he watched the boss go back to work and make Lion's back arch, he was thinking from his own point of view. But that was never the question. He had to think like the boss himself.

That was when something in the tone and cadence of Bear's voice slipped into place.

"Holy fuck," Tiger said, staring at him and forgetting for a second to fight against the cuffs. "You're giving me a hint."

Bear grinned as broad as if they'd just taken down a tank together, then his eyes narrowed and his breath hissed as the boss's hand delved into his pants. Tiger thought as hard as he could without blinking. The last time he'd been in the field with Bear, he'd kept doubling back, being a pain in the ass, taking too damn long to check all the buildings.

"You're still not gonna be able to, are you?" Bear said, in controlled, short bursts of focused air. "You're so into this idea of yours that we're enemies, you're gonna - nnh, god, Boss - gonna shoot yourself in the foot."

A triumphant smirk darted over Tiger's face. He had it. "If I was, you're the one I'd want around. You don't bring guys down. You bring them back. You're the one who goes and makes sure everybody's extracted, and you take your time and do it right, so even the half-dead ones make it on board."

"Well hell, Tiger," Bear said with more enjoyment than was really called for, "I never thought you noticed-"

What cut him off was the boss standing. With Lion left dazed beside him, his cock hard, slick, and shiny in the light, the boss stood in front of Bear, undid the buttons on his shirt quick as a stone skipping across flat water, and had him naked after a few brisk tugs.

It really was impressive.

The boss's hands roamed all over him, traveling down from his chest to his hips in what must have been a sweet, fascinating contrast between warm flesh and cool metal. Then the boss got a firm grasp on his waist and pulled him forward so his lips could cover one coffee-colored nipple, and Bear's eyes rolled right up in his head in a way that, right now, Tiger would punch somebody out for calling funny. You could see his knees go weak. The boss's mouth would be hot and devoted. His beard would scrape and tease your skin. Bear panted as the boss switched to the other nipple. He wasn't a man who did half a job. By the time he got down on his knees, Lion had taken the initiative in getting his own clothes off and was awaiting orders.

The boss gave a little tilt of his head and said, "Hold him for me."

"Yes sir," Lion said. He went behind Bear and knotted his thick arms around his waist - bear hug, thought that part of Tiger that they all had, that no one could kill completely and they all had a pact to never give voice to, the part that made shitty animal puns - to give him the support he needed to stay on his feet when the boss took his cock in his mouth.

There were eight men in that room, and not a single sound but the little pants and whimpers coming from Bear's throat. Who knew how pretty the bastard could look? Everybody else must have thought so, too- they were all drawing closer, except for Barracuda hanging back, and Tiger had to lean to the side to see around Goat's ass. He had some scars there, too. Lion was holding onto Bear tight, so close his cock could only have been nestled between his asscheeks, and Tiger realized he would never be able to grapple him again without thinking about what it must be like to be caught with his body on the one side and the boss on his knees on the other.

Those whimpers might not have all been coming from Bear.

Bear's cock fell free from the boss's mouth. Bear let out a desperate little noise and squirmed in Lion's arms.

"Boss, please-"

"Be patient." The boss patted his thigh and stood up. "I'll take care of you."

Lion let go, but Bear kept leaning on him. Must have needed the support. Couldn't have a lot of blood going to his muscles.

Look at me, sir.

The boss looked to the other odd man out. The one standing back, rapt and silent. Him and Badger were the only ones with more than lingering scraps of clothes still on, if you didn't count Tiger, and nobody was counting Tiger.

"Barracuda."

He stiffened to attention. "Yes sir."

Though his hands were flat against his sides, his fingers were trembling.

The boss walked over to him, the light shining on the scars all over his back. His bare feet made dull sounds on the metal floor. When he stopped in front of Barracuda, he stayed there for a minute, with his soldier looking up at him. The top of Barracuda's short black hair just barely reach the boss's nose. After a long moment his eyes dropped.

The boss's arm wrapped around him. Barracuda leaned on him like he'd been caught falling out of the sky before he could strike jagged rocks on the ground.

Tiger didn't have to be told. The chain of the cuffs slithered against the ground as he leaned back, the steel support cool against his spine. His voice was softer. They could hear him.

"Barracuda, he's quiet. Keeps to himself, so I don't know much about him. All I know is he works for the med team, and it'd be a bitch to deal with the guys who only speak Kikongo without him. He was there, all through the first outbreak." He must have been one of the figures Tiger had caught sight of through the binoculars when the couldn't help looking over at the quarantine platform, gas-mask clad and moving through the cots of the fallen. “Lost...must've lost a lot of friends. But he kept it together."

Tiger couldn't say if he could have done the same.

You didn't notice the taut lines on Barracuda's face until his eyes closed and they smoothed away, and the stiffness in his body melted into the boss's embrace like it was a shot of anesthetic. The boss kissed his neck near the glimpse of yellow in the inner collar. Barracuda's shirt bunched as the boss's hand rubbed circles on the small of his back.

"You've done good," the boss said softly. "Tell me what you want."

Barracuda's hands were latched onto him."You, sir."

The boss glanced at their watchers and murmured something with a questioning rise at the end.

With a slow look of heat growing in his eyes, and an expression that made Tiger's pulse jump, Barracuda looked at them and said, "Yeah."

The boss gave an incline of his head and a pat to Barracuda's back, and told them, like he was entrusting them with a job, "Warm him up for me."

"Yes sir," Goat said. When Barracuda came close, he put his hand under his chin and pulled him into a kiss, and then the other three's bare bodies surrounded him.

That left Badger, standing there with that bruise darkening his cheek. Looking at it made Tiger's face burn. He'd have his own bruise on his back from being slammed to the deck by one of the easiest sparring partners in the combat unit. Tiger didn't want to get looked at and gloated over by him, not when he was tied up and so hard he couldn't think straight.

The boss's arm went around his shoulders. The boss's metal fingers stroked his collarbone as the single eye watched Tiger and waited.

Tiger's jaw clenched. He looked away. Over from the left, there was the sound of shifting cloth and soft noises in Barracuda's voice.

"Tiger," the boss's voice prompted.

He kept his eyes on an oil stain on the concrete floor. "He's fine," he said tightly.

"Tiger."

The quiet patience in the boss's voice broke something in him. With a clang and a feeling that he was going to either tear the handcuff chain or his shoulder out of their sockets, he lunged against the cuffs and struggled in noisy, useless rage.

"He humiliated me in front of you!" Tiger's voice ripped his throat. "He won, all right? Is that what you want to hear?"

"Sparring's about giving each other the skills to survive," the boss said, "not winning.” The gentle obviousness of the rebuke was worse than a fist in the gut. High above the center of the room, the lights buzzed. The only grudging gratitude Tiger could find was for the shadows of the catwalk that hid his face.

All his yelling accomplished was to get all the rest of them to pause in the middle of undressing Barracuda, with his shoulder bared, and all turn to look at him.

“Bastard always had it out for me,” he spat at the ground. His hands were fists, short nails digging into his palms. “Why do you think he somehow always manages to get paired up with me, every fucking time? He's been gunning to show me up for weeks.”

“Jesus, Tiger, is that what you think?” Badger's eyes were wide, and the unbelievable ingrate had the balls to look like he'd forgotten the boss's hand unbuttoning his shirt and slipping underneath. “I spar with you because you're good. And cause I was scared of you. You don't go easy on me. I knew if I could beat you just once, that'd really mean something. You weren't my enemy, you were my- I don't know, not Everest. Everybody says Everest.”

“Kilimanjaro,” Barracuda suggested, lifting his foot so Bear could pull his boot off.

Badger nodded. “Yeah, that one.”

The chain between Tiger's wrists went slack. “You're fucking with me.”

“Mm. That's nice, Boss,” Badger murmured as the red hand pulled his open shirt out of his pants and ran over his stomach, across all the little dips. He'd been working on situps all right. He looked back to Tiger. “Nope. It's true.”

“Why didn't you tell me that, goddammit?”

Badger's sandy brows arched. It took some talent to look wry while the boss was sucking on your nipple. “Yeah I don't know if you heard this, but you're not so easy to talk to. I heard you once punched out Devil Raptor for asking if he could have some of your Doritos.”

“Bitch didn't even have anything good to trade,” Tiger muttered. You had to be tough and let people know they couldn't push you around.

“Point is...mm...we're all on the same side here. Always were.”

Tiger fell silent, trying to run it all through his head. Not easy when Badger kept making soft noises, and there was the cloth sound of Barracuda's clothes falling to the floor. The oilstain was shaped kind of like an umbrella.

“Got anything to say?” the boss's voice prompted.

Tiger's wrists and pride ached. He gritted his teeth and tried to find an angle he could approach this from.

He raised his eyes and said, “He feeds the sheep.”

The boss's lips were wet when he lifted them from Badger's chest. “He does.”

Astonishment flicked over Badger's face. “You noticed that, Boss?”

“Mm-hm,” he said, and slipped his hands beneath his pants to grab his ass.

“Shit, Boss,” he gasped. He grabbed onto his arm with a force that looked hard enough to bruise if it hadn't been steel.

Roughly, before they could get lost,Tiger spat out, “He has guts, all right? He volunteers for the ugly, dangerous jobs.”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep focus in the face of the two men looking straight at him. Saying it was harder than running out of cover into mortar fire. “And he's one of the best gunmen I've ever seen. He took out a whole set of targets before I even knew they were up. He can't do hand to hand for shit but nobody'll ever get that close anyway.”

The look of surprise on Badger's face and approval on the boss's made it worth it.

There weren't a lot of things in the world Tiger would call beautiful. The scars crossing the boss's face were one. The way Badger could catch a gun up and snap off a seamless shot was another.

With a whiplash of a sound, the boss yanked Badger's belt off. The buckle jangled when it hit the floor. The boss pushed down Badger's pants, and he must have really liked the man's ass, by the rough way his hands were caressing and squeezing it through his underwear. Couldn't really blame him, with that tight little thing. Badger was making little gasping noises until they got buried in the boss's kiss, and the idea of one powerful gun-callused hand and one metal one grasping your ass, with the strength of a man in one and a weapon in the other, with the scar on the boss's lips pressing against yours and his beard brushing your face – it was enough to make you stop breathing vicariously.

A deep stubborn streak made Tiger say, just to be an asshole, “And he's cute.”

It was Badger's ear that the boss chuckled in, but Tiger who made him do it.

“Hey, Boss,” Badger said, leaning into his touch, daring and a little tremulous in a way that did make him cute, damn it, “You think I can suck your dick a little?”

You don't just ask that, idiot, Tiger thought, angry at his presumption and that he hadn't thought of it first.

The boss kissed the corner of his mouth and laid his hand on the middle of his chest. “There's one thing I need to do first.”

That one eye of his hit Tiger like a spotlight. His attention was all he wanted, but it was still somehow an effort not to push his back against the pillar he was chained to. The parts of your brain that never quite made it out of the jungle knew they were looking at a predator, and the high human parts knew you were looking at something stronger and bigger than yourself, and maybe the fear, awe, and desire that mixed into was what they called greatness.

Tiger tried to struggle to his feet. It was harder than it seemed, with his hands behind him and his balance off. Before he could get far, the boss put his hand on his shoulder and knelt down. The cool of the steel soaked through to his hot skin. The boss smelled like metal and sweat, and, stranger, something dusty and herbal, maybe some plant he'd been walking through or put in one of his pouches.

What the boss said to Tiger was, “You're doing good.”

Tiger was doing good.

His hands were pulled to touch him and worship his body. The chain stopped them short.

The boss's naked body was right there within arm's reach, right on the cusp of imagination - he was so close to feeling what it would be like to have the weight of all that heavy muscle on top of him, his thigh sliding between his legs. Tiger sawed the handcuff chain against the post. Sweat was holding his hair down to his forehead and his lips had gone dry.

He didn't give a damn who heard him say, “Boss, please. I'm loyal to you. I can be a good soldier. Just tell me what to do.”

The boss said, “There's one more thing I need you to learn.”

With his metal hand keeping him pinned in place, the boss leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow. After so long desperate for a touch, it was like grabbing a live wire. He'd been right. You could feel the scar on his lips, and the tingle of his beard, and the truth that you weren't alone and you mattered because you were his.

The boss's lips pulled away. Tiger followed until the cuffs brought him up short. He realized he'd missed his chance to see what the boss looked like with his face right against his.

Fucking idiot! What did you close your eyes for?

The boss's metal hand squeezed his shoulder, and he said, “Patience.”

He got up and turned around.

“Boss? Boss!” Tiger didn't even care about the desperation in his voice. Twisting and fighting made his pants strain over his aching cock. “Wait! Please, Boss!”

The boss walked toward where Badger waited. Not far away, sometime when Tiger wasn't paying attention, the others had spread their clothes out into a pile where they had Barracuda naked and gasping, with Bear rubbing his face against the inside of his elbow, Lion raining kisses on his chest, Mammoth kissing his inner knee and Goat toying with his balls. The quiet guy was making hushed, insistent noises and arching his back off the ground with each breath.

Badger didn't have to be told to get on his knees.

Tiger watched with envy pounding in every heartbeat as the boss ran his fingertips through Badger's sandy hair. It was a perfect side-on view; he could see every detail when Badger took his cock between his lips and slid down, and the way the eyepatch covered part of the boss's face only made it clearer how the rest was going slack with pleasure. His toes were clenching against the floor.

“Hey boss,” Goat said, looking over from where he was running a fingertip up and down Barracuda's cock and making him bite his lip. He looked like he was in a damn good mood. “Don't we get a taste?”

Agreement rose around him, in keys of Mm, just a taste and It's only fair, sir.

There was no questioning the boss's willpower. Even while Badger was doing his noisy, enthusiastic thing, his voice stayed level.

“Bear.”

“Sir!” You couldn't snap much to attention with somebody's nipple in your fingers, but Bear gave it a good try.

The boss's hips swayed lazily. “Get the things out of my back pouch and get Barracuda ready for me. The rest of you, get on your knees and wait your turn.”

“Yes sir!”

Tiger licked the taste of the boss from his lips.

Barracuda was left to try to catch his breath while Bear went over to the pile of the boss's things and rifled through the pouches. Tiger caught a glint of foil and recognized the supplies you could pick up at the Med Platform, after the lecture about fraternization turned out to be focused not on the usual don't do it but on do it right.

The others were in a rough circle around the boss, doing exactly as he said. They were murmuring soft words Tiger couldn't make out as they watched Badger work over the boss's cock, with their dicks in hand, and Tiger would have crawled five miles on his belly to be able to do the same. Patience, the boss said. This was his chance to prove he was a man with some self-control.

If the way the boss's cock popped free of Badger's mouth didn't kill him first.

The boss walked behind Mammoth and cradled his face with his right hand. Tiger had a hell of a view as Mammoth broke into a wide smile and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the touch. More than the actual sex, that was the moment that Tiger would always remember as catching a glimpse of something strange and private, and he could never see Mammoth quite the same way again.

The boss was as good as his word; they all got their turn.

Mammoth took a good, long look first and did a lot of licking up and down the sides. Goat nuzzled his face against the boss's abs, winning a chuckle and the boss's hand in his hair, then goddamn, did he go to town. He dove right in with the kind of gusto that left you awestruck.

Lion, now, did something strange. He looked up at the boss and murmured, “Sir.” His long fingers traced the palm of the boss's left hand. He took two metal fingers between his lips and lavished them with attention. It would taste like metal, and the salt of his comrades' skin.

The boss didn't tell him to hurry up. He just watched, and curled his fingers. It was only after worshiping his hand that Lion moved on to worshiping his cock.

Tiger bit his lip hard to keep himself quiet and turned his face away. That was smart for about a half a second, before he registered he was getting an eyeful of Bear steadying Barracuda's naked body with one hand and slicking up his ass with the other. The soft-spoken guy was making a low, constant murmur like the hum of a machine, one that faded into the background until you paid enough attention to hear that it was in the shape of oh god and yes and yes.

Low and rough, as Lion's head moved back and forth between his legs, the boss's voice rumbled, “You ready, soldier?”

Barracuda's eyes snapped open, glassy and rapt. “Yessir. Need you, sir.”

With one last pat to Barracuda's ass, Bear backed away. The man was sheened with sweat, and his shoulders rose and fell with his breath. There were seven sets of eyes watching the boss walk toward the man on his hands and knees on the scatter of uniforms, and not one blink.

Bear handed the boss a tube and a foil packet. A crinkle snapped through the silent hangar as he ripped the condom free. He rolled it slowly over his cock and slicked himself up, taking his time. Barracuda watched over his shoulder with big, dark eyes. The anticipation must have been enough to drive you mad but the boss wasn't a man you hurried. The boss knelt behind him, on a shirt that was scuffed and stained and so must've been Mammoth's. His red hand rested on the small of Barracuda's back and made him gasp and twitch his hips.

They were all on their knees, scattered around the room, watching in total stillness like they might have missed something if they took the time to breathe. They were fixed on them from all points of the compass as the boss's ass flexed and Barracuda's hands clutched the olive drab fabric beneath them.

“Look at that,” Lion breathed, like anybody had to be told.

Tiger had a nice, clear view of his boss fucking his comrade. Under the boss's scarred bulk, Barracuda looked slim and smooth. The boss's red hand settled on his narrow hip and drew him back into his long, slow thrust, and the muscles in Barracuda's stomach bunched as he pushed back and made a soft, inarticulate noise of praise.

It occurred to Tiger, suddenly, than he could quit the game. All he had to do was go around to the other side of the support, turn his back, close his eyes, and play Patience in his head until it was over. The boss was too busy to stop him. The sounds couldn't be blocked out, but they could be ignored. He could make it obvious he refused to play along with this. At the same time as he realized he could, he discovered he had no desire to do it.

The promise in the boss's kiss had changed everything. He wasn't being forgotten, hated, or ignored. He would get what the boss decided he deserved, when and if he decided to give it to him, and that was as it should be. Tiger, well, he could tell you he didn't make a lot of good decisions. That was how he'd ended up out holding a gun in the ass-end of nowhere in the first place, after he'd laughed at everybody else for their naive fairy tale dreams of heroism and protecting the motherland while believing in his own naive fairy tale dreams of decent food and steady pay. Getting punched in the head with a robot hand and strapped to a balloon was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He trusted the boss, and this was one way he could show it. The ferocious burn of jealousy and the want that clutched his stomach were a pain to an end, and that gave them an edge of pleasure.

And it would have been a crime to let a sight like that go to waste.

If Tiger leaned hard to the left, with his weight resting on the cuffs and digging them into the side of his wrists, he could catch a glimpse of Barracuda's face, and it was worth it.

The boss's cock pistoned steadily into him, and Tiger knew that he and everybody else had something in common right now – every single one of them was thinking about how it would feel to be the one with the boss's arm around your waist, pulling you into his motion, and how it would feel to have his thighs fit against yours each time he slid in deep. Little, quiet Barracuda was making breathy gasping noises that got quicker and quicker in time with Tiger's pulse.

Tiger's eye darted from one comrade to another. Badger's eyes were as big and round as they could be with one half-swollen shut, and he was murmuring, “Jesus.” Goat was saying, “Yeah, give it to him good, Boss.” One big hand was wrapped around the base of his cock. All of them were stroking themselves, enjoying the show, and all Tiger could do was feel his cock strain against his pants.

The boss's eye was closed in a strangely private concentration. He could show you everything, but you'd never really know what was in his head. His metal hand drew his soldier against him with a strength you could feel secure and irresistible on your own hip. He leaned in, rhythm steady, and his other hand took possession of Barracuda's cock. Barracuda's cries were wordless.

Barracuda came with his head thrown back, with a yell that shot around the space and reflected metallic off the walls. He sank forward, and the boss's arm held him up. The boss kissed the back of his neck before lowering him to the pile of clothes on the floor. Barracuda slumped onto them, not bothering to try to hold himself up. His head lolled, and his fingers opened and closed. He looked satisfied and delirious, and only a little bit conscious. It wasn't all that different from how people looked after a good, hard training session with the boss, except that he was a lot more naked.

The boss's cock withdrew hard, wet, and gleaming.

For once, Tiger was grateful the boss's attention wasn't on him. The heat in his eye was almost too much to take even from an angle, like the oblique blast from a flamethrower pointed at someone else.

His voice was guttural when he said to the rest of them, “Come here.”

Their hands blanketed him, and Tiger could only catch glimpses in between the moving bodies – Bear kissing the scar on the boss's face, Goat sucking on his nipple, Lion stroking the straps that held his left arm secure. Tiger fought to catch sight of the boss's face as he drank in the attention, arching and gorgeous, muscles flexing, and when Mammoth gave his ass a bite Tiger couldn't even blame him. It made him dizzy, the lights glistening on their skin and the low voices he couldn't make out. The boss said something that made Bear look spooked and disbelieving for a second before he fired a sharp, “Yes sir!” It wasn't easy for Tiger to follow even that much, with all of them moving and talking, with him trying to focus over the sound of desire battering his thought like a sack of hammers. Barracuda was up on one elbow and watching now, while Bear – Jesus, where did he get the guts? - worked his fingers into the boss's ass.

“Never seen anybody like you, boss,” Bear said softly.

The boss let him. The boss got onto his hands and knees.

Tiger forgot how breathing worked.

He forgot the cuffs around his wrists and the cold, hard floor under his ass. He forgot the ache in his knuckles or that the purple bruising layered over the expression of bliss on Badger's face was something he was responsible for. The sight of the boss with his lips around Badger's dick while Bear fucked him and his right hand jerked off Goat was all his mind could handle at once. Lion was a step back, as frozen in fascination as Tiger was. Mammoth was on his knees with his cock in hand, with the other stroking the boss's back like he was using him as a guide to keep grounded. The boss's balance was on his red left hand against the ground, and the joints flexed every time he took Bear's thrust.

Behind his back, Tiger's hands clutched at thin air. He imagined standing in Badger's place and feeling the boss's hair run through his fingers. His chest ached like he'd run miles, with the boss's beauty beating against him like the full force of the sun.

“You're a work of fuckin' art,” Goat said, with awe in his eyes.

“Ain't he good to us,” Badger breathed.

Bear was just murmuring something that probably wasn't coherent even if you spoke Pashto. He leaned forward and Tiger leaned hard to the side so he could see the way pleasure creased the lines around the boss's eye when Bear took his cock in hand. The angle made the cuffs bite deep, but the second's look he got before falling back would be his companion on cold nights for the rest of his life.

The back of the boss's head swayed back and forth, and Badger's breath was gaining speed and going frantic, with little desperate noises at the edges and working in as the light jangled on his bare chest, then his hips jerked and his head fell back with what turned out not to be a scream but a long, hushed sigh.

Goat, now, he made noise. His eyes closed tight and his hands grabbed at the air by his sides while he came right on the boss's back, and what the boss did was let Badger's cock fall from his lips with a wet noise, say, “That's right,” and jerk him through.

That let the boss's hand fall so he could brace himself and shove back against Bear. Really concentrating now. You could see it on his face, just as clear as you could imagine the feeling of his firm ass moving hard against your body to meet you. Tiger could almost feel the heat of his skin on his own palms, like his body could feel an echo, and even while he was bound up watching them from outside the pool of light he was there with his hands gripping the boss's cock and making him breathe in ragged, rapid gasps until his head lashed from side to side like a beast breaking the neck of its prey as the whole sculpture of the shape of him snapped taut.

Maybe you could overdose on lust like opium.

Tiger was caught up watching his well-fucked boss and almost missed the significance of Bear's hips losing their rhythm and his back arching as a shiver struck through him. His attention was all caught up with the boss's scarred, sated face, and it didn't quite sink in until Bear was tilting to the side, like all his strength was used up and there wasn't enough left to stay steady on his knees. That was when the boss let himself slump forward, and that was the signal the rest of them needed to do the same.

There was no way to tell how loud the cries, moans, and frantic gulps for breath had been until they faded into a hush. The pile of men had layers, with shades of brown like stripes of kinds of rock in a cliff. The boss rolled the condom off his cock, and his red hand twitched in a gesture for the watching Barracuda to join them. Barracuda fit into the embrace of his left arm, while his right draped over Mammoth and his fingers lazily stroked Lion's hip on the other side of him, like trailing his hand in water. Badger was returning the favor by sitting up beside him and tracing a scar that marked the muscles of his stomach. Goat stretched out and used his calf for a pillow, and Bear's head rested on his thighs.

Bear was the first one to try to put it into words. The closest he could get was, “Christ, Boss,” and for once Tiger couldn't blame him. There weren't words on the planet for what it must feel like to be given something like that.

From the look on his face, the boss understood without them.

It was a jolt to wonder if they'd forgotten Tiger, because for once in his life, Tiger had forgotten himself.

They hadn't. The nearest to him was Lion, on his back with the full length of his long body stretched out on the floor. He had a long cock, too, and as he stroked it slow from base to tip, he let his head fall to the side and looked Tiger straight in the eye.

An hour ago these were men Tiger wouldn't give time of day. Now he'd give the left half of his soul to have them fucking him by turns. The whimper that wrung itself out of his throat didn't do it with permission.

The boss's voice rumbled. “Lion. Mammoth.”

From between the boss and him, Mammoth raised himself up a little and said, “Sir?”

Lion's eyes were so dark it was hard to see the difference between the iris and the pupil. Maybe if you were real close. “Sir.”

It was hard to see much of the boss past Mammoth. Just his fingers brushing along Lion's skin. Tiger held himself quiet to make sure he could hear him.

"You two are close, right?"

Mammoth's lips twitched. With his face composed, Lion said, "You could say that, sir."

“Mhm.” His hand left Lion as his arm curled around Mammoth, and it wandered down past the soft hair on his lower stomach and wrapped around his cock, making Mammoth make a little gasping noise. What do you know, the hair there was reddish, too. Just darker. “Looks like you two still need some attention.”

“Wouldn't mind it,” Mammoth said, as his hips lifted into the boss's touch.

The boss looked over the two of them and straight at Tiger. The eyes of the rest of them followed, and Tiger went absolutely still, as though breathing would invite or prevent whatever he hoped or feared would happen next.

The boss said, “How about you show him how comrades take care of each other?”

That got all of their attention all right.

Mammoth's eyes went wide. He looked over at Lion, and a slow smile spread over his lips, intimate as the one he'd gotten when the boss had stood above him and caressed his face.

“Gladly, sir.”

Lion answered by kissing him.

Tiger stared. Sure, he'd seen them together, but he'd never suspected it was more than that. He'd always thought they just had the same shifts a lot.

With a couple more strokes, the boss let go of Mammoth's cock. Mammoth's hand groped for his and threaded through his fingers for a moment. Then Mammoth got to his feet and reached down to Lion. Lion's bigger hand fit in his with a weird grace. He brought himself to his feet and continued the motion into pulling Mammoth into his arms.

As his thumb stroked the curve of his partner's hipbone, Lion looked right at Tiger and said, “Do you want to see me have him, comrade?”

Tiger didn't trust his voice. All he could do was nod, and know that they heard the please.

They went into the middle of the room like they were taking center stage. The boss was sitting like a king, with all his men arrayed around him. He wore Goat's come as easily as his scars. Badger had taken up the vacant spot under his right arm, and was watching intently with the one eye he could see through. Looking at the purpling bruise undercut the want conquering Tiger's brain processes with something uneasy. Goat moved himself to a more comfortable place on the boss's legs like he was a damn couch, and his lips were tugged into the little smile somebody gets when they sit down in the theater for a movie they've been looking forward to for a long time.

Mammoth got down on all fours. There were freckles on his shoulders, Tiger saw, and to his lust-drunk brain that realization felt like discovering a continent. Lion knelt beside him and drew his hand down his spine with a showman's flourish. His hand rested on the small of Mammoth's back, lingering and making the contrast between them vivid.

"Pretty, isn't he?" Lion said.

"Mhm," the boss agreed. Soft sounds of assent – and not so soft, god damn it Goat – rose from around him.

Mammoth rocked back on his knees and leaned into Lion's hand. His cock was thick between his thighs.

Keeping his eyes on their audience, Lion leaned down and kissed the nape of his neck.

"He likes it when you do this," he said, and gave a little bite to the place where Mammoth's neck met his shoulder.

“Mm. There we go.” Mammoth's shiver made the light dance on his slick skin.

Lion's teeth flashed. “He likes this, too,” he said, and gave him a sharp smack on the ass.

Mammoth jumped and yelped, and shot him a look over his shoulder.

"If you're gonna do it," he said, his voice lower and roughened, "do it like you mean it."

When he did, the slap echoed into Mammoth's moan and the intake of Tiger's breath. A couple more and he swore he could already see Mammoth's firm ass turning pink.

“You should see him, Boss,” Lion said, rubbing Mammoth's ass. “He takes it real nice.”

“Show me,” the boss rumbled. The men tucked under his arms and reclining against him were watching just as avidly, but there was no mistaking it: this show was for him. Every move they made was for his pleasure.

Barracuda tossed the little tube of lubricant to Lion, who caught it one-handed. Is that the teamwork you were talking about, Boss? Tiger thought deliriously, as Lion sank his fingers into his comrade's ass.

Mammoth pawed at the metal floor and panted. Something about the way his shoulders moved up and down enthralled Tiger. Lion kissed the freckles there.

“Hurry up and get your dick in me,” Mammoth said, like a goddamn poet.

He got another smack to his ass for that, but Lion got a condom on quick.

Lion started out with long, slow strokes. He rested his hand on Mammoth's hip and guided him with a strange grace. The lean muscles of his back shifted back and forth hypnotically.

The two of them were pretty, but it was the boss who was fascinating. He watched, his one eye absorbed, his fingers running through Bear's hair, with the same proprietary pride he wore when he watched them spar. He knew this was for him, and he took the offering with the same weight as it was given with. He didn't esteem the gift any less for it being his due.

More than anything – more than being touched, more than being free and forgiven – Tiger wished that look on the boss's face was for him.

Mammoth, now, he was drinking in the attention, you could see it in the way he rolled his shoulders and swayed against Lion like they were two parts of a machine. Look at him playing it up. Putting on a show made him shine.

Barracuda toyed with the boss's metal hand and watched with lidded eyes. Lately he'd hardly said three words that weren't a translation of somebody else's, but somewhere he found the guts to say, “His chest needs attention.”

Lion smiled as he slid in and out of his partner, drawing out moans in time with the push and pull of his hips. “Smart man. It does, doesn't it.”

When Lion's hands caressed his chest and played with his nipples, his breath hitched and those moans got a whole lot louder.

Lion folded over him, quiet now with concentration. From the side, Tiger had a priceless view of was his thighs and ass at work, and the way the full length of his cock sank into Mammoth with every stroke.

Without lifting his head from the boss's lap, Bear said, “I bet he can take it harder.”

“Mm-hm,” said Goat. “Quit holding out on us.”

The muscles in Mammoth's arms bunched as he pushed himself into Lion's thrusts. Lion's long-fingered hands covered his chest with a warmth Tiger could nearly feel. “Yeah,” he said, his breath ragged. “Fuck me like you mean business. Tell him, Boss.”

A stubborn part of Tiger thought Don't you tell the boss what to do, asshole, then a recently-born but now larger, stronger, fiercer part of him told that part For Christ's sake shut up, are you seeing this?

The boss inclined his head and said, “You heard the man, Lion. Give him all you've got.”

Tiger learned one thing about Lion right then: he followed orders like a fucking champion. Mammoth's shout reverberated all through the hangar.

Lion's hips snapped, and he fastened one arm tight around Mammoth's waist and the other hand around his cock, and Mammoth moaned and panted with every breath while his eyes shut tight and he had this way of dropping his head and scrabbling helplessly at the floor with his hand that seared itself into Tiger's mind. He was loud enough it was like he was crying out in Tiger's ear, and it might've been Badger's voice that breathed “There we go” or Goat's that said “Fucking beautiful” but any chance of untangling one man from another was lost when Lion's thrusts went wild and he cried out to the ceiling with the veins on his neck standing out like whipcords, the violence of it in a strange contrast with the the delicate flutter of his eyelids and the soft slack ecstasy rolling over his face. The instant felt like it hung eternal but it could only have been a moment before he was moving, and he flipped Mammoth over onto his back on the floor and dove between his legs to put his mouth to work and bring his comrade home.

They lay there after, catching their breath with Lion's head resting on Mammoth's stomach. Nothing else moved. The only sound was the faint chime of the handcuff chain against the support. Tiger was aware dimly that the cuffs were biting into his wrists, and the sound behind him must have been from trembling.

Gently, slowly, the boss moved the men on him aside and stood. He padded across the open floor to the exhausted pair. He was hard again, cock proud and begging for attention just like his scars.

He knelt beside the two of them. He placed a long kiss first on Mammoth's lips, then on Lion's. Smooth, from one to the other, like it was a single kiss with a pause in the middle like a rest in a line of music.

The boss stood. He went over to where his pouches were tossed on the floor and took something out. He straightened and, finally, his eye turned to Tiger.

The sound, Tiger realized, facts sinking slow through the desire flooding his mind like pieces of a wrecked ship sinking into the ocean, wasn't just the clink of the chain. Those soft whimpers were coming from him.

The boss stood above him. Waves of heat and the scent of sex radiated from him, sweet and maddening. Tiger knew fighting the cuffs couldn't do any good. It didn't make a difference. The part of his mind that understood things like cause and effect had no power over his body and what it needed.

“Boss.” His cracked voice was barely more than a whisper. “Mercy. Please.”

The boss looked down at him, and he knew, with terrible finality, the answer was going to be no.

The boss said, “Not my call.”

He turned and looked at the naked men sprawled across the floor where they watched. Mammoth catching his breath in Lion's lap, Barracuda with his long lean arms resting over his legs and the solemnity that never left his face, Bear with his head pillowed on Goat's scarred stomach. And Badger, quiet and leaning against Barracuda, wearing the stain of the bruise that made Tiger's face heat and shame clench his gut.

With a tilt of his head toward Tiger, he said to them, “Tell me about him.”

Tiger bit down on his lip. There was nothing he could do to change it now.

“He picks fights,” said Bear.

“Worst temper I've ever seen,” Mammoth agreed.

“He's always angry,” said Barracuda.

“And he takes it out on everybody else,” said Lion.

“Even if you're friendly,” said Goat. “He doesn't hide how he thinks you're an idiot for trying, either.”

All the times he'd snapped at Goat flashed into Tiger's mind. He never took the bait and got mad, so Tiger'd always figured it didn't register.

“He's short-sighted and cruel,” Badger said quietly. “And he never trusts anybody.”

Tiger stared at the floor. All his arguments evaporated, leaving his hands full of empty air.

“But he's brave.”

The sound of Badger's voice made Tiger's head whip up.

“And him being a paranoid bastard saved our asses once. Remember the coltan mine? You swore there was an ambush coming, and you were right.”

He did remember that, though he never thought he'd see Badger smiling and talking about it.

“He's always the first one on the ground,” said Bear.

“He's loyal,” said Lion. He contemplated for a second and added, “And he thinks quick.”

Barracuda, the last person he expected to even know anything about him, said, “During the outbreak, he refused to be afraid.”

Mammoth said, “He's a damn genius at CQC.”

It was Goat of all people who said, “He's one of the best soldiers we've got.”

The boss took it all in silently. Then he knelt beside Tiger, red hand closed at his side. The whole weight of Tiger leaned against the cuffs, straining for one more inch, that tiny piece of distance between him and that body. God, one touch.

The boss's fingers rested on the hollow of his throat, and the callused warmth of them through Tiger's shirt was enough to make his brain batter itself against the sides of his skull. They flicked open his top button and worked their way down. His hand pulled Tiger's shirt free of his belt and let it fall open, then pulled his undershirt up so the air hit his feverish skin and the boss's hand caressed his stomach, and the noise Tiger made was something human men weren't meant to be able to.

Up close, the boss's face was quiet and intent. The blankness of the patch made the depth of expression in his other eye resonant by the force of the contrast. Some of his hair had come loose and stuck with sweat to his forehead. There was a dark curl clinging to the side of his neck.

He turned his face away.

“Badger.”

“Sir?”

The boss's fingers kept teasing over Tiger's stomach. Every ounce of leverage Tiger could get went into leaning it, greedy for more.

“It's up to you,” the boss said, just like Tiger was afraid of. “What do you think he deserves?”

Eyes glued to Badger's face, Tiger could see the exact instant what the boss meant dawned on him. The chain rattled and a whimper slipped through his lips.

“Quiet,” the boss said, and he was.

It was a mercy, really. This way at least all his begging was silent.

Badger looked at him and thought. Then he smiled so broad it must have made his injured face ache.

He said, “Have at him, Boss.”

Tiger was going to give Badger all his Doritos for the rest of his life.

The boss's left hand opened. A little silver key glinted there, resting on his palm. Tiger stopped breathing and went still.

He didn't make any decision about what happened next. It was a purely physical thing, like freefall. The instant the key clicked into one cuff and his right wrist was free, Tiger's body threw itself at the boss all on its own.

Somebody in the distance laughed and said “Easy now,” and somebody else said, “Shit, can't blame him, he's gotta be starving,” but Tiger couldn't get any specifics over the welcoming rumble in the boss's throat. He rubbed his face against his beard and his hands roamed over his body in pure greed. Tiger kissed his mouth to start with, his neck for good luck, and right below his ear for good measure. The texture of his beard on his lips was never the same twice. Once he started kissing the scars on the boss's face he couldn't stop. The long straight one that ran over his good eye needed attention. So did the slice across his nose, and he couldn't ignore the stitch-marked one that ran above his eyepatch to the shrapnel shards embedded in his brow.

The boss's hands rested on Tiger's hips, toying with his belt. His was a body that had walked through hell and come out the other side, and what deserved worship more than that? Tiger's hands caressed all over him, and he was drunk on the firm curves of his muscles of his shoulders and the texture of his skin. The handcuff dangled from his left wrist and the chain chimed as his hands worked under the boss so he could see exactly how it felt to have two hands full of objectively perfect ass.

Real nice, as it turned out.

It was tight and magnificently round, and it fit in his hands like that was what they had been designed and stamped for by the angels. Poetry should have been written about this. All poetry should have been written about this. If Pushkin had caught one glimpse of it, he would have ripped the Onegin manuscript in half and dedicated his pen to capturing the richness of its curves and the feeling of the slight, sweet give when you squeezed it.

The boss's eye closed, and his breath brushed Tiger's ear. That was when Tiger first had the chance to realize he wasn't just taking pleasure but giving it as well. Angry nobody fuckup Tiger was making the boss feel good.

The only warning he got was the boss's hands tightening on his waist. Then the boss rolled him over with a quick, expert toss, and he was on top of him and doing his own exploring. His hands opened up Tiger's pants, and Tiger moaned from the bottom of his heart as the boss yanked his clothes down and his cock was finally free. The boss didn't bother taking Tiger's pants off; he just shoved them down so they caught at mid-thigh. A clang that rang through the room when he smacked his left hand on the floor to brace himself. His eye locked with Tiger's, and he dropped his full weight onto him. His hard cock fit right up against Tiger's, and Tiger's hips jerked up as all the breath he had gasped out.

Tomorrow he wouldn't know which bruises on his back were from Badger's throw and which were from this.

His boss rutted him into the floor, with his face against his and the shrapnel in his head scraping his skin with a touch of pain that sharpened the pleasure to a razor. All he could do was hold on. The slide of his cock against his and the press of his sweat-slick chest and his undershirt rucking up and the hard floor jerking under his shoulder blades at each thrust and the scent of wild man and sex and metal all mixed together and drowned him.

Tiger bit down on the boss's shoulder, but it didn't make his cry when he came any quieter.

For a long, long time, it felt like, he floated and watched the way pleasure focused the boss's face, but he wouldn't have minded if it were longer. The relief so long in coming took all his strength away, and it was easy to stop thinking at all. But he had to remember this. He couldn't ever forget the way the boss bit his lip as the splash of warmth hit his stomach.

The boss's weight lifted from him, but he didn't go far. He stayed on his hands and knees above him. Vaguely, Tiger recollected that there were other people somewhere. His eyes were on the boss's face as he looked down at him with a strange softness and pride.

It had been a while ago. No one could say exactly what had happened. It was just a knowledge that drifted through the ranks the way a drop of color spread through water. On one day it was unthinkable, and on another, everyone knew. There was an unspoken awareness that their boss was their boss. No one else's.

The handcuff swung from his wrist as he lifted an unsteady hand and touched the boss's face. His beard prickled his palm.

“Boss,” he said softly.

The boss leaned his face into his hand and said, “You did good.”

Another thing no one ever had to say aloud was that they loved him.

This kiss, for once, took its time.

The boss sat up and the spell broke. Reality rushed back into place. Tiger's back was sore, he had come on him, and the others were getting to their feet to dig their clothes out of the pile. The boss gave him a slap on the chest.

“You're cleaning this up,” he told him. “If you ever strike a comrade in anger again, you're out.”

“Yes sir,” Tiger said.

The boss nodded, got up, and went to get dressed.

Tiger watched from the floor for a while as the tall shapes of the others moved back and forth and their voices murmured. He watched Barracuda pull his pants on, and Mammoth try to find both boots. Pulling himself together and moving was a concept he could glimpse but not quite grasp at the moment. Maybe once the boss's breath stopped ringing in his ears.

There was a splash of sunlight when the boss opened the door and left. Tiger managed to sit up a little and look around on the floor until he caught sight of where the little key had fallen. He was just reaching for it when he noticed somebody standing above him.

“Hey,” Badger's voice said.

Tiger stopped moving and made a wary noise.

“So, look.” Badger dropped down into a crouch. Weirdly, the look on his face was friendly, ugly bruise and all. “You can be a real bastard. I'm not real thrilled about you hitting me, either.”

So that was what he was looking for. “If you want to take a shot and even it out, now's your chance.”

“No, dumbass,” Badger said. “I mean-”

He gave a little shake of his head that must have meant he was giving up on talking. Instead he moved in close.

Nothing that happened in that room that day came more out of the blue than Badger pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Tiger's mouth.

“If it wasn't for you, none of this would have happened,” Badger said, like that explained it. He got to his feet. “Whenever you want to spar, I'm up for it.”

He left Tiger trying to make sense out of that.

By the time Tiger had the cuffs off, his pants up, and himself back together, everybody else was gone. That was all right. In fact, he didn't mind the order to clean up, either. It gave him some time to think, and to convince himself that what had just happened was real. He touched the sore place on the left side of his brow where the boss's horn had marked him. That was evidence.

It was one of those things nobody ever thought happened outside of imagination. And they'd all imagined it. Everybody'd seen the sheafs of crumpled papers that got passed around with old forms on the front and blocks of close cribbed handwriting on the back that started with The boss joins you in the shower or The commander calls you into his office. There were ones for Ocelot, too, but those were never in English or Russian, since there was an unspoken rule about them never getting written in any language the star could read. Not that anybody really thought that would save their necks if they got found out.

They weren't high art or spelled right, but they did what they were made for, and one of the ones about Commander Miller was decent, even when Smoking Moth waved it around and complained, "This is bullshit. That's not the punishment. Everybody knows you show up late for your shift, he is pissed. You get a week scrubbing rust off the bottom of the strut if you're lucky."

"The hell does that matter? It's not the point."

"It's unrealistic. It fucking bothers me!"

"Well, what if it was, I don't know, littering or something?"

"Nah, that's not bad enough. He wouldn't care about that."

They'd ended up having a twenty-minute debate on exactly what severity of infraction it'd take for the Commander to spank you.

Tiger was musing over how he now knew for a fact what the ones about the boss got right and got wrong when he caught sight of something lying on the ground. Something soft and sand-colored. He picked it up, the cloth draping over his hands. The boss had forgotten his scarf.

It smelled like sand and sweat, and something dusty and herbal.

Tiger folded it into a little square and tucked it in his pocket. The kind of man the boss was wouldn't begrudge anyone remembrance.

He'd hold onto those handcuffs, too.

The radio crackled on.

“Boss. Did you handle our morale problem?”

“Yeah, Kaz. It's taken care of.”

“Good work.” There was a pause on the line. “You know, I've been having some trouble in that area lately too...”

“I'm on my way.”