Kaz really didn’t look forward going in Snake’s office. He never did, but it was extra unpleasant when Ocelot was visiting from Outer Heaven like this week. Snake’s office reeked - bad sex, old people cologne and the smell of cigar-singed hair made his stomach turn.
He also wished to never, ever walk on them fucking like it happened a few months ago. The noises Ocelot was making, halfway between a bad porno and the sounds Ocelot had made that one time he’d gotten shot in the gut with buckshot were forever burned into his memory.
Kaz opened the door, bracing himself for whatever was expecting him, but the office was dark, empty. He sighed with relief. He could just drop the files on his desk and high-tail it out of there.
It wasn’t until he’d stepped into the room that he realized he’d made a big, stupid mistake.
The door closed behind him, and all of a sudden, Snake was there, large hands like bear traps on his arms.
“Hi, Kaz,” he growled into his ear.
Kaz spun around and slammed his metal fist into Snake’s face without an instant of hesitation. He was long done with hesitation. He connected at full force, he felt his mouth crunch under his titanium knuckles, and it was good.
But not enough. Snake laughed, because of course this was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it?
He’d always liked it best when Kaz fought back.
“Fuck off,” he snarled, backstepping his grab, ready to throw another punch.
He didn’t get to. Snake’s heel kicked him right under the knee, exactly where the pylon of his prosthetic leg was implanted into the bone. The pain was like electrocution, absolutely intolerable for a second, and that second was enough for Snake to grip his more dangerous bionic wrist and twist his arm behind his back.
“Now, now. Be nice. This is no way to treat an old war buddy. Nor your commanding officer.”
“You’re not-” yelped Kaz helplessly, and then he was slammed into the heavy mahogany of the side of the desk, the edge hitting him right in the ribs and knocking the air out of his lungs. His aviators went flying, clattering onto the fancy parquet. He kicked back, his left arm trapped under his chest and Snake’s considerable weight, but only drew another dark, self-satisfied laugh from the man above him.
How was somebody almost sixty still this fast? This strong? He wasn’t a Stockholm-syndrome addled kid anymore, he’d been through hell, and he still couldn’t wriggle free.
“Nostalgic,” chuckled Snake in his ear. “Bet you’ve missed this.”
“Like I’ve missed - ugh - a root canal,” he said, his cheek smushed into the leather desktop.
“Shhh. I know you did. You’re always watching me. I can tell. I know what you need.”
Kaz panicked as he felt Snake’s free hand push his tracksuit pants down. He struggled, squirmed, tried to kick back, to bite something, anything.
But of course he was trapped. As he’d been since that fucking day in Colombia.
He should have let that grenade explode.
He was darkly glad it hadn’t been too long since he’d gotten fucked, or this would have been even more unpleasant than it already was. Funny his extramarital activities ended up helping him not get a torn asshole from his fuckhead boss.
Of course riding Ocelot’s lovely slender dick in the backseat of his stupid Maserati was in a completely different ballpark than...this. This wasn’t even sex. It was just a caveman display of dominance.
With a deep breath, he let Snake’s thick, dry dick inside him. Fuck, it hurt. Bastard never fucking bothered with more than a spit for lubrication and this time he clearly wasn’t in the mood even for that. Kaz couldn’t believe he’d spent so many years crazy for this.
He couldn’t believe Ocelot still let himself be fucked this badly.
“Now there’s the Kaz I know,” rumbled Snake happily, thrusting hard. “Always ready for a ride.”
Kaz whimpered, choking on his spit, seeing stars and not in the good way. He tried to wriggle into a position where it’d hurt less but nothing seemed to work, tried to scream and felt Snake’s big heavy hand grip his throat from behind.
“Quiet,” he grunted, burying himself to the hilt just as Kaz’s vision started to gray out.
Kaz gasped for breath, but so little oxygen was going through the inescapable grip.
Fuck, I’m going to die, he thought, rainbow lights dancing at the edges of his eyes. I’m going to die with his dick up my ass and Ocelot will never let me live this down.
Snake let go of his throat and Kaz gulped down as much cigar-laden musty air he could before realizing why he’d let him go.
The door was open.
And in the doorway, Ocelot.
“Ah, Adam. Just in time,” laughed Snake behind him, the brutal thrusting not losing a beat. “Close the door, will you?”
For an instant that seemed to stretch for two eternities, Kaz and Ocelot’s eyes met, and he saw the same terror in them as he was feeling.
Had he found out about them?
No, he couldn’t have....they were careful. All the information went directly through Ocelot, and he never slipped. Sloppy fucks in empty parking lots aside, they never looked intimate with each other outside of Kaz’s heavily protected office. They never slipped, never kissed on the grounds, never laughed at each other’s jokes where others could see them. To literally everybody, they hated each other. He couldn’t possibly have gotten the secret triggers for V’s more hidden memories. He wasn’t this smart. He wasn’t, was he?
Ocelot finally stepped in, locking the door behind his back. His eyes had gone slightly unfocused, his movements calculated. “You’re always one for nostalgia, John,” he said, and his voice wasn’t Ocelot’s anymore; it was cold and completely devoid of accent or emotion.
Kaz had only met this particular Ocelot only a couple of times. He didn’t like him.
“You know how it is,” grunted Snake, grinding against Kaz’s ass. “Love it when he’s hissing and spitting like a cat.”
Whatever this was, they had to play along. Kaz bit his cheek as hard as he could to avoid speaking. He knew if he made a sound, he was going to beg for help.
And he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted them both to die in this stuffy office today.
Ocelot stepped closer to the desk with a chime of spurs that made Kaz feel a little better about the numbing pain in his lower body. “Push him a little forward,” he said.
Snake barked a laugh. “That’s my Adam.” He shoved Kaz sideways so he was hanging across the desk’s corner, head over the edge while he still had full access to his ass. Kaz’s still completely soft cock dragged across the wood and hurt even more than what was causing the definite feeling of blood trailing down his thigh.
Ocelot’s buckle jangled and Kaz found himself with a faceful of cock he knew very well. And that in any other occasion would have been delighted to swallow to the root. He twisted his face around, biting his mouth closed.
Snake gripped his throat again. “Suck him off. Now.”
Ocelot dropped a hand on the back of Kaz’s head, leading him until his clamped down mouth was pressed against the underside of his hardening cock. “C’mon Miller. It’s not like you to turn down some dick. You should be grateful. You’re well past your prime, after all...”
Ocelot’s hand was heavy on the nape of his neck, but his thumb was tucked behind Kaz’s ear, hidden in his hair, drawing slow, soothing circles behind his jaw.
Kaz hated Snake more than ever. For doing this to him. To them.
He opened his mouth and let Ocelot push his cock between his lips. He looked up as he slid smoothly down his tongue, trying to find Ocelot’s eyes through his eyebrows. They were cold and grey. The man Kaz knew was well hidden behind them and wouldn’t come out to help.
Sometimes he really envied his skills for immediately dissociating himself out of unpleasant situations. He could have used it right about now as Snake pounded into him without a care in the world other than his own pleasure.
Ocelot pushed past his gag reflex and Kaz let him. Breathed out of his nose, eyes closed, concentrating only on the slide of clean skin into his throat. If he focused he could almost let himself believe that he was enjoying this. That he didn’t hate himself for his weakness. That it was only Ocelot, the crisp creak of his leather gloves around his ears, his white hair tickling his lips, that curve in his long cock heavy on the back of his tongue.
“Once a slut, always a slut,” said Snake, brutally ripping Kaz back to the very unpleasant reality at hand. “Look how much he’s loving it.”
Ocelot hummed in agreement, and made a big show of thrusting down Kaz’s throat. Kaz helped by making a big show of choking on it, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth.
They were good at this. He was completely and utterly fooled, and it felt good. A cruel, sick pleasure in knowing they were in control of something much bigger than him and his petty, possessive tantrums. His cock throbbed against the polished wood, finally thickening.
If he played his cards right, maybe Ocelot would take care of it later. He sure as hell didn’t expect a reacharound from Snake. Even in the seventies, those were few and far between. You can’t teach an old dog a new trick, after all.
Although - thank Christ - he seemed to have a tiny bit less stamina than in the seventies, his thrusts erratic and slow now, his rasping breath wet between Kaz’s shoulders.
He put his whole being into the cock in his mouth, determined to give Ocelot the best orgasm he’d ever get with Snake in the room. He felt him buck against him, fingers tightening in his hair, a breathy whisper escaping his lips.
Now that was the Ocelot Kaz knew and - despite his better judgment - loved. He was so lost into making this good for him, feeling only the thumb pressed at the corner of his lips and Ocelot’s salty precome coating his throat, that he barely felt Snake grinding against him with a grunt, the leak of come down his leg. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. The pain and shame didn’t matter, the bruises he’d have to hide from Nadine didn’t matter, the nightmares of laughing Russians with machetes that he was going to have for the next month didn’t matter.
Tears were trailing down his cheeks by the time Ocelot came with a choked whimper down his throat. Kaz didn’t care about anything but the hand buried in his hair, holding him just a hairsbreadth above the abyss threatening to swallow him.
Snake dropped heavily into his big ostentatious leather chair, limp dick still hanging out of his slacks in a way he probably thought looked very dominant. He pulled out a cigar, and lazily cut the tip as Ocelot slid out of Kaz’s mouth, his fingertips lingering a moment along Kaz’s jaw. Then he tucked himself in and swung around the desk. He sidestepped Kaz’s broken, leaking form still draped over the corner and sat on the armrest of Snake’s chair, zippo already out to light his cigar. Snake took a long, pleased drag, releasing it slowly. Kaz hated the stench of it, so much.
“Dismissed,” he finally said, and the smug smile on his face was almost worse than getting raped over his fucking desk like a scared intern.
Kaz swallowed, and awkwardly pulled himself up, dragging his pants and underwear up and cringing at the tenderness of his ass, the wet squelch he made as he stood. He picked up his aviators and slipped them back on. One of the temples felt crooked, digging into his ear. He nodded sharply, not looking at Snake but at Ocelot and his lowered eyes as he sat almost in Snake’s lap like a badly aged floozy.
He walked out slowly, fighting his instinct to run. He made it down the stairs, back to his office, behind the safety of his soundproof walls. He locked the door before grabbing the first thing off a shelf - a week old coffee mug - and smashing it into a wall. A ragged scream, the kind that hadn’t come out of him for almost a decade, scraped his throat raw as a book went flying, then all files and pens and paperweights off his desk. He screamed and threw everything he could get his hands on, bruising his knuckles against bookshelves and walls. Finally, he collapsed onto the carpet, panting, and allowed himself exactly ten minutes of crying and feeling sorry for himself.
Then he took a deep breath, and wobbled to his feet. He glanced at his watch. He still had at least an hour before he was needed down on the grounds. He had time to hit the showers and scorch Snake’s sweat and come off himself, scrub himself until the nausea was gone. He needed to call Nadine, tell her something had come up and he had to sleep at the base. There was no way he was letting her see him like this. He needed to pick up his spare track suit, because this one was going into the incinerator right away. He needed to go back to work because he’d be watching, and Kaz was not going to give him one more thing to gloat about. He needed to see Ocelot after most of the officers had gone home, and they needed to get incredibly drunk and fuck on the floor like it was 1978.
He was not letting Big fucking Boss break him, not ever again. He’d long ran out of pieces he could break, scattered them in the Caribbean sea and in the Afghan sand and in the hidden floors of the abandoned Mother Base; buried them deep in his son and his precious Adam that only ever slept peacefully next to him, in his phantom that was more of a man that he’d ever dream to be.
He could choke on that nostalgia he liked so much.
Kaz would make sure of it.