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The Nusian Troops are going to outnumbered, sooner or later. All of them knew they're doomed to die here.
It's either fight to death, or fight to victory.
No one is going to come and rescue them.
No one...
__
Trident moves quickly through the battlefield, blending himself into the imperceptible bushes, hiding behind the mountain cliff to avoid bullets coming from the Dominions' bullets. He's a boss unit, which means that he has way more armors than normal infantries, so the chances of him receiving a fatal hit is lower.
Geez, these guys surely are holding up, eh? Just 8 soldiers against dozens of troops, and 4 boss units (tho Gaia and Fusilier is dead as we’re speaking), too, yet they're just healing and healing... thanks to their two medics and the 'magical' guns that can heal them from far distances. If these guys weren't the enemies, he'd probably think this type of technology is impressive as hell.
Well, number of troops in each side doesn't matter now, provided that more than half of the Nusian troops sent here have fallen, and the nearest Nusian barrack decided to stop sending more backup, thinking it's a 'waste of soldiers.' This means they have to be careful. One second without caution, and the next they'd probably receive a bullet in their skull, or a slice of their aerorig. Thank Lords above before being drafted into the military unannounced, he was an officer, which he can sense presences and all that's happening around him easier.
Being the vigilant person he is, if he sees an inch of any Dominion soldiers, he's going to throw his hook to pull them down towards him and slashes them in halves with his ronin. Seems unstoppable, given the fact he's heavily armored and is always alert, but the fact his shoulder and neck doesn't have any covers makes him vulnerable, since when he's paying attention on his hook, others can easily shoot him from behind.
Till now, he has caught like... 3, 4..? of the Stronghold's members in total, yet all of them managed to escape, shucks. Not only did he only does quite the damage (no fatal injuries) to the enemies, but also got some bleeding injuries on his shoulder and lower thigh. The fact he can still walks is magical...
Just as he was moving close to some infantries and a gunner across the map, he spotted an engineer peeking out from a higher hill, trying to shoot. And skillfully using his grappler, the steel wrapped around the Dominion's torso smoothly and so slowly closing their distance.
The Engineer flinched, struggling to escape the grasp but failed miserably. However, due to the fact his attention is on the preferred Dominion, Recon noticed their teammate being super close to getting mangled, which kinda takes a long time to distract the Nusian troops to revive. Then hastily, the sniper moves his armor peeler and aimed it towards Trident’s neck, planning to kill him off. And so, they charged the gun to maximum power, and pulls the trigger.
*”Phew! I finally got him!”* they thought.
..
Or at least that’s what they think.
—
“HEY! WATCH OUT!”
Screeches of someone who he could assumed a male. That’s what the last thing Trident heard before he felt someone’s arms wraping around his torso, and then getting lifted up the ground at extremely high speed.
Once they were on one of the highest cliffs, a blind spot, to be specific, the former officer got dropped down the soft grass, letting out some small grunts.
Looking up at his savior, his demanor slowly softens after recognizing the folk - Sparta. Well, they have interacted several times during practice before, though it leaves Trident an impression that the zealot is hella ‘energetic’, a bit too loud for a night person like him.
“Geez, dude, you gotta be more careful. They almost got you there.” Said Sparta, while putting his swords away and starts checking if the other boss has any injuries.
“… well, not almost. They *did* got you.” He clicked his tongue after seeing the crimson spot on Trident’s shirt. Now that Sparta mentions it… he could feel the sting of the wound now.
“Agh.. don’t.. touch it.” Trident grunts upon feeling Sparta’s fingers brushing against the wound. The zealot’s eyebrow furrow for a moment, before he roughly lifted the older man’s shirt up just to meet an angry, pulsing red wound that’s still bleeding. Ooh, Trident’s NOT going to be fighting in such conditions… Yet almost all their medics are dead..
This leaves to only one option.
The monk roughly yanks the sleeves of his shirt, then quietly applies pressure and ties the fabric to make sure it stays in place.
Staring at his handiwork proudly, Sparta can only wondered how they’re going to win in such conditons (you won’t bro). Slowly standing up and grabbing his swords, he glances at the bleeding Trident on the ground.
“Hey so… you just gotta rest here, alright? I can’t.. well, just leave the troops to fight alone, I’ll be back, later.”
However, the moment he started his jetpack and is about flew away, he felt Trident grabbing his wrist at the last second, preventing him from leaving.
“No.” said Trident firmly.
“You’re not going to leave alone, if you’re going to fight, I’ll come with you. This is our only chance to kill those Dominions, and I can’t let our team lose another boss unit.”
"Our troops are dying- YOU are bleeding!" The zealot points out, trying to pry the older man's grip on his shirt.
"If no one's gonna assist the infantries, we're all doomed here! We can't just be selfish JUST because you're afraid that I'm going to die." Ah, such selfless statements, aren't they? Though, if anyone squint, they can easily spotted the slight shake behind his voice, the fear of being abandoned, the apprehension of death. Of course, they're still human beings no matter what happened to them, even if they're egoists, even if they're officers, even if they're nobles, or even kings and queens.
It doesn't matter who's right in the war.
The thing that's matter is who's LEFT.
Seeing Trident's quiet and still expressions, Sparta huffs. Is he doubting *him*?? *THE* one that's known for having an imperishable valour??
"..And for your information, I, *our* perpetual force here, ain't going to back down to some... concrete walls that can walk, and fight. I mean, c'mon, they're literally called 'Dummies', for a reason, right?" Added a chuckle. Oh my lords, this dude...
Still, he's worried. Sure, Sparta's fast as hell, and it's not like any bullets would hit him that easily unless those Dominions aren't humans. But still, they shouldn't take any risks. The Nusian troops have already taken enough damage and lost enough troops, and it's not the best option to rush out of the battlefield alone now.
"I'm not going to change my mind, you stay here." Trident commands roughly, eventually earning the zealot's reluctant huff before the soldier drops his swords and sit down next to him. "Fine gee, if you say so... Our troops are dying whilst we're just resting here uselessly by the way." Sparta murmured, leaning closer towards the officer's face in an attempt to guilt-trip him so that he can lets him go.
But unfortunately... seems like it didn't work.
Especially with that.. well, obnoxiously nonchalant attitude of his.
"What a party-pooper." The monk then proceeds to pull away.
…
It’s been a while since Sparta has had such peaceful moments like this.
Yknow… since he’s at a war, and they barely let the soldiers have any peaceful moments. When they’re not on the battlefield, they’ll be training in the barracks in one way or another.
Taking a deep breath of the not-so-fresh, smoke-n-war filled air, the zealot lets out soft sighs. Gosh, compares to the busy life in the military, everyone would assume (and is correct) that he missed his life in the mountains with the monks that raised him.
“Hng fuck..” The muffled, painful groans of the older man next to him snaps Sparta outs of the daydream. Of course, he kept on forgetting Trident’s injured.
“Hey.. you alright man?” Asked Sparta.
Turning around to look at the man sitting behind him, the first thing his eyes landed on is the sympathic image of Trident holding onto the wounds on the sides of his shirt.
Although the fabric is doing a decent job at applying pressure and preventing the wound from bleeding, it’s obvious the pain wouldn’t disappear that easily.
…
He should.. definitely do something, to distract the fella from the pain.
Though, what he had in mind is definitely NOT appropriate..
Slowly scooting closer to Trident, Sparta then puts his hand on the side of the black helmet, before slowly trailing down the collarbone, the man’s muscular chest, then his toned muscles on the abdomen, and finally, the hem of his pants.
“What… What are you doing?” Sighed Trident, his body slightly trembles under the zealot’s teasing touch. Although, he still sits there still, even unintentionally spreading his legs a little, watching what the other is doing.
“Helping you.” replies the other in question, even slightly brushes against the not-so-obvious growing bulge in Trident’s pants, before he hooks onto the zipper and gently unhooks it. “Just sit back, you’re still bleeding, by the way.”
Watching his hard cock springing from the zippers of his pants, Trident’s face slowly heats up in embarassment. This is the first time someone’s even this up close to him, hell, even touching his most intimate parts…
“Ah.. Have you done this before..?” Asks the officer curiously, thank Gods he has a helmet covering his face, otherwise Sparta would know how beet red his facial features are right now.
“Nah, not even once.” An honest answer from the younger boy, whilst his gloved hand is slowly stroking the other’s cock. The way he’s stroking so clumsily.. it’s kind of adorable, in its own way.
“But hey.. honestly they say you should enjoy life and what it gives before you died. So.. here I am, enjoying what ‘life’ is giving me, heh.” He chuckles, his finger flicking across the dark pink tip, feeling the flesh pulses in between his palm.
"Shit.. be careful. That spot's sensitive." Groans Trident behind his helmet, his body flinching from both the foreign touch and the painful stings of the untreated wound.
"I know what I'm doing." The monk replies, and before the other can protest or said anything further, he leans in closer and planted a soft kiss on the tip, even lingering there for a moment.
Before he knows it, Sparta swiftly takes the tip into his mouse, and slowly lowers his head. Fuck, the sensation is overwhealming, for both of them, especially the monk.
If it weren’t for his fast gag reflex, Sparta’d feel like he’s going to throw up. Though strange at first, he continues to takes the whole thing in, until his nose is buried in Trident’s pubic hair.
“Fuck.. you’re taking it so deep.” Trident’s body shivers once more when he felt the warmth of the younger’s mouth engulfing him whole. His voice trembles with a slight of amazement and shame.
Once Sparta felt the tip hitting the back pf his throat, the zealot starts to bop his head up and down, not forgetting to tease Trident with his clumsy tongue too.
Trident’s left hand flew onto the zealot’s hair, messing the yellow locks together in a way that people would found ‘hot’. He said it’s his first time, yet it feels so damn pleasurable..
“S-Sparta.” Moaned the officer, his grasp on his hair tighten. “I’m gonna cum soon..j-just pull out, fuck..”
Encouraged by the other soldier, the monk quickly obey. He bobs his head faster, a hand even going to grab the other’s balls and roll it between his finger, trying to chase his release.
And oh boy that was the last straw for Trident.
His lower body spasms in pleasure, his head instinctively leans back against the tree he’s sitting next to. Trident’s mouth gasps open in an ‘O’ as he tries to hold himself back from making any noises, gods, at least he’s wearing a helmet to cover himself from having witnesses.
Slowly recovering from his high, Trident pants, the lower part of his body limping before he looks at the younger male who’s laying on the cliff’s soft grass, also trying to catch his breathes.
“You alright..?” He asked, a hint of worry behind his tone. Though his eyebrow frowns a bit upon seeing some stains of a certain dirty white fluid on the corner of Sparta’s lips.
“You didn’t pull out, huh..?” A sigh coming from Trident, as if he has dealt with this millions time before, and now he’s getting tired of it.
To which, Sparta responses, giving Trident a playful nudge on the shoulder in the proccess, too.
“Why pull out, it’s not like I’m going to get pregnant or something, ya old geezer.”
The two stayed silent for a moment, just looking at each other. The noises of the battlefield still comes from underneath the cliff, but none of them could careless to bring themselves to talk about it.
Especially after what just happened.
…
“Besides, I kinda want to know what it tastes like.”
“… what does it taste like, then.”
“Kinda salty.. and the taste is kinda strong too, like yknow.. fish.”
“.. well that’s certainly an interesting fact.”