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"They're on the move," her voice is static and hushed. He's the only one that can hear her but he's grown tired of reminding her. "Go."
He moves, sliding down the bank on his heels and carving rivets into the dirt. Cloak flaring, kicking up dust, it's almost a show of skill and he's a little bit all about that flair. He launches into a roll at the bottom and takes off at a low run, darting between old crumbled buildings and rock. It's simple - get in, get out, divvy up the rewards between what he does and doesn't need, then leave what he doesn't at the nearest established village and listen in until he finds the next one.
When he gets into the fight it doesn't go as smoothly as planned, he takes a bullet to the teeth and the pain knocks him to the ground with a splash of blood and flayed flesh. He's got his hands gripping uselessly at soil looking down into a pool of blood and pieces of his own mangled tongue and teeth. His Ghost knits his jaw back together and he rolls back to his feet. Reload, aim, fire. His goal had been quick and clean but the Fallen aren't so accommodating, that's fine, he will burn them all to the ground.
The gun in his hands scorches hot as he walks languidly through the crowd of Fallen. Golden bullets find the foreheads of each alien taller than him. When the fire rolls out of him he replaces it with knives. He clears the first area easily, he's already lost the advantage of stealth but he still has the advantage of Light. When he bursts into the room with a blast from a rocket, he gives the room a once over. When he spies where his reward is he launches his Bow in the middle of the room, the Fallen crumple under it, growling like feral dogs. He walks slowly through the room, knocking the occasional bullet into their heads as he goes.
The Bow will last long enough to keep them tethered while he gets what he needs, as he's securing it he hears footsteps behind him.
"Well well well," a voice coos, Andal aims his gun before he turns. "Lookie here, getting here first and not even killing 'em all. Where's the fun in that?" And the stranger opens his arms and a pulse of Void melts the still tethered Fallen into ash. It's unlike anything he's ever seen. he's on edge but holds the gun steady.
"Don't worry, partner, I'm not gonna fight you for that garbage. Just stopping in to see my competition." The man is grizzled, a gun stuffed down the front of his pants, neatly trimmed beard that covers a whole lot more of his face than Andal's.
He lowers his gun the slightest bit, "I'd like to see you try." He challenges, slipping his gun back in the holster on his thigh.
"Not gonna do that, Hunter, I'll just get here first next time." And with that, the stranger was turning and leaving. Andal rocking back on his heels with his arms folded over his chest. Once the room is clear and his Ghost pops back out, curiously.
"That was weird" she says, "what are you going to do?"
Andal inspects the handle of the blade tucked into a pocket on his wrist. With barely a move he's slid the knife out and the end gleams in the dusty light. He slips it back and begins to leave, still on edge, expecting to find the strange man skulking in the shadows somewhere. He emerges back into the sun before he finally answers the Ghost hanging over his shoulder.
"Nothing."
It's a few days later when he gets another bounty, he's scoping out the area but makes easy work getting in. Too easy. And when he gets to the end of the pit where they were hoarding recently stolen supplies the stranger is already there.
"Told you I'd get there first," he says, a grin that's all teeth. Andal scoffs. Next time he's getting there first, whatever it takes.
"First, and last, time," he warns, the tip of his knife aligned with the stranger's nose. They're still too far away from each other to do any real harm in close-combat, though, the threat of the blade is empty. Andal's never doubted his skills but after seeing what he saw last time he's beginning to find a few concerns.
Andal returns to the little village, reports some smuggler got away with it. They line his pockets anyway, the Fallen are still dead and won't be as much of a problem until the next band of them rolls in. That was easy, seems this stranger was still helping him out. Best to not let it happen again though, otherwise his game may be up. He can only get away with not doing anything for so long before they start to suspect he's a liar.
The stranger walks in long after Andal has already secured the area. He waltzes in, gun blazing with Light and fires a shot at him, Andal's been waiting and electricity flares around him like a shield. He offers him a toothy grin that's almost a grimace and the stranger returns the look. "Too slow," he remarks.
"Look at you, hotshot, better luck next time, eh?"
They take turns, sometimes Andal gets in first and sometimes it's the stranger. They're about evenly matched, Andal's longest streak is three and his longest loss is four. He likes the competition. It keeps him sharp, keeps him from getting complacent. They dance this game for weeks, Andal gets there so long before the stranger shows up he finds himself wondering if it's over and the other has moved on. So when the man does show up he bites the end of a cigarette and thumbs another one out of the container and extends his arm to him.
They've been sizing each other up for months, this is the first time either of them has been close to friendly. When the stranger reaches for it, Andal snaps his wrist back. "Name."
It's a demand, the man smirks at him. "I'm just a drifter."
He scoffs, offers him his hand again and he grabs the cigarette from him. "That's fair." In times like these he can't blame a man for keeping his name to himself. Andal hasn't given his own name out to many people either. He did in the beginning, when he was first found. Not anymore.
"Course it is." His voice has a purr to it that sends something he doesn't approve of rippling down his back. “I've got an idea for you, brother, what say you to meeting me on the other side of the Atlantic and once you get there I'll find you. Not a lotta air traffic out there. Got a proposition for you I think you're gonna dig. I'll give you a couple days, if I don't see you I'll assume you chickened out.” He lights the cigarette and holds Light in his hand to light Andal's, too. He stiffens when his hand comes close and doesn't relax as the drifter walks away. “I'll see you there,” he calls as he leaves.
“You can't actually be thinking of meeting him, can you?” Ghost asks later, he's tucked himself into a little nook, socked feet on the wall with his cloak in his lap, needle and thread repairing the most recent tear. “He seems dangerous.”
“Might be,” he admits, the thread is thick and he's working on making sure the stitches look at least somewhat presentable. She sighs at him, he swings his legs back to the floor, his back facing the window. The stitches are done, he ties it off and bites the thread off and stands, setting the needle on one of the dusty shelves. An old city, thousands of tall tall buildings, he found one and made himself at home. It's one of the taller ones, rather large area. Fairly run down and coated in a layer of dust and rust but he likes it. He stores a few things here and booby traps what he can when he's gone.
He swings the cloak onto his back and clips it in place, then gets his boots back on. “Oh great, you're going aren't you?” When he doesn't respond she continues. “Andal.” He's too busy preparing, knife against his wrist with another at his hip, gun at his thigh. He's got to be ready.
They head out to the rooftop, his ship can't leave the planet, he doesn't have the parts for that yet and hasn't much cared for going off to other planets anyway. He likes the rewards around here, he likes the praise while knowing just how much of it he's taking home himself. It's blatant daylight robbery. The ship can fly and that's all he needs it to do. His Ghost stopped asking, it was obvious he was going. He didn't know what he was getting himself into, not yet, but he was going for it. See what this 'drifter' wants from him.
He crosses over the ocean, and once he starts seeing land in the distance his comms crackle into life. It's the drifter's voice that comes through, old speakers made for a shoddy connection. “Hey there, hotshot.” He says, Andal bristles. “Glad you could make it. Forwarding coordinates to your Ghost, assuming she's on board with this,” and the laugh he breaths through the ship tastes sour in Andal's mouth.
“Yes, fine,” she interrupts before Andal can react, he grins at her. She gives him that 'I am not happy with you' look. She takes over the controls, Andal sits back and eyes the windows. He nears the location and the drifter crackles the speakers again.
“Let's keep what happens here between you and me, alright?” His voice, despite the static, sounds low and deep and it does send a shiver down his spine. Fucking hell, this isn't happening. “Don't worry now, this won't take long. I'll even make you a deal. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”
“Not promising anything,” Andal retorts, but he has a feeling it isn't going to matter what he says, whatever this offer is, he's going to do it. He doesn't trust the man but there's some kind of honour in him, if there wasn't any to be found he would have killed him and taken his trophies the first time they met.
He lands in a field and takes stock of the area. There's a whole lot of nothing and no one out here. There's a building off in the distance, and when the other gets in touch it's through his Ghost. His voice comes in much clearer, “there you are!” That purr is back, Andal draws his gun and begins to walk. “Alright, keep going now.”
“You're leading me into a trap, aren't you?” He growls, putting an edge to his voice. The Drifter responds in kind, his response dripping with something akin to seduction.
“It's not a trap if you know it's coming.”
Andal continues on, the grass gets longer and yellower, long dead and rustling as he moves. It's waist height when he hears it, sees it. Movement, a glimmer up above him, rustling in the weeds. “Tell me that's you up there,” he hisses, fingering the trigger.
“Nope.”
“You're trying to get me killed, yeah? I'm about to disappoint you.” He eyes up the rustling half a yard away, something's in there and he has a feeling he knows what it is.
“Not at all, darlin', I wouldn't have sent you down there if I didn't think you could handle it. You think I care about Fallen scavenge? Ha! No, no, I needed a partner and you're the only one who made the cut.”
When the Fallen begin to swarm him, he handles them easily. Waves upon waves of them, exhausting the Void in him again and again. Draw the Bow, flatten the field, shoot them all down. Eventually, the bigger guys come out, all he can taste is ether and the Void darkens the edges of his vision. Above him, that glimmer breaks and the ship flickers into view. He feels it before he sees it, the ketch gets hit, whatever hit it rips through it and explodes out the other end. The shockwave temporarily flattens the grass all around him. The battlefield pauses as the ship loses air and begins to fall, and Andal just happens to be in the landing zone.
That is, until he isn't, whipping his head around just in time to catch the sight of a ship barrelling straight for him and landing somewhat ungracefully in the cockpit. The explosion of the ketch hitting the ground sends the ship swaying dangerously, and going this fast could only mean bad news. But the driver handles it well, rides out the wave and slows. Then looping back around so he can see the wreckage. He stands on wobbly legs and places his hand on the back of the chair Drifter sits in. “What the fuck.” He mutters.
“Oh, come on, you can't tell me you don't love a good explosion. C'mon, we have some cleanup to do.”
He's still a bit unsteady when they land, side by side, the pull of the Void is receding and he finds his head clearing bit by bit. Good, he needs that clarity. If they've taken down a ketch there's going to be more. Drifter Lights his gun and Andal does the same, together they pick off anything that's still moving and Drifter pops a few more bullets into the rest just for good measure. Andal suspects he enjoys this a little too much.
They enter the ketch. Or rather, Drifter enters it and Andal follows, covering his back as the man explores. He doesn't say a word, just pulls out a sidearm and jolts a quick round into anything that moves. They scope the ship together, “consider my back effectively scratched.” He says approvingly, there's that growl in his voice.
“You said you'd get mine, too,” Andal points out, mimicking that tone. Drifter offers him a smirk.
“Don't you worry about that, sugar, leave me your ship. I've got some modifications you might like.”
His ears heat at the name, he slips the sidearm into his belt and the pair of them walk back out into the sunlight. It's the most time they've ever spent in each other's company, he isn't sure if his jittery nerves are from the excessive use of Void to flatten the area or something else. He's going to call it the Void, though, probably best that way.
Ghost parks his ship in the grass near the still-burning ketch and Drifter wanders over to it. It takes a little bit of time, Andal busies himself by poking around the ketch a bit more. Once it's finished Drifter announces that the repairs are done. Now Andal can leave the planet if he wants. A full-on jump ship, something that's pretty rare in these parts. If he's honest, he's impressed.
“What do you want from that ship?” He presses. Drifter just waves his hand.
“Got a couple projects I'm working on, nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” Andal glares, Drifter laughs.
They roast rabbit over a fire, Drifter's done something weird to it and Andal doesn't question it. The meat is good and strange, they don't say much but their Ghost's have paired off and are fluttering around Andal's ship, they built the fire close to it. She always likes meeting other Ghosts, he thinks that his solitude gets to her sometimes. He tells himself it's for her sake that he hasn't left yet. No other reason, just his Ghost.
He's sure that no one is fooled though. The way his companion keeps staring him down tells another story. They toss the bones in the fire and Drifter grabs him by the scarf and hauls him in, kissing him with so much aggression his head spins. Andal's been at a disadvantage this whole time, it's his turn, he's the one who forces him to the ground only to grab hold of his wrists to pin him down. He doesn't struggle, not at first, licking the residue of dinner from each other's mouths. Growling low in his throat, Drifter wrestles his wrists free and turns the tables, flipping Andal to his back hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
There's nothing soft or gentle about this, Drifter is all force and Andal is all teeth. Drifter is broader than he is but Andal is taller. He's rough, their gloves come off first as they pause long enough to remove them. He squirms one knee up to his side and rolls his hips to flip the tables again. Andal settles on top of him and works his fingers over the clasps in his gear. He can feel hands roaming across him, working belts and buckles loose too. Andal grinds against Drifter, whose groan turns into a growl.
Andal's hands leave bruises on Drifter's wrists, he digs his nails in and prevents him from undressing him anymore. No matter how much he struggles under him, Andal doesn't let up. He settles between the other's thighs and grinds his hips down. That extracts a low moan from the man under him.
“Fuck, you're stronger than you look,” he compliments, “why don't you let me go so I can fuck you properly?” His voice is low and husky, Andal almost shivers at the sound. He squirms deliciously under him, Andal climbs over his thighs so he can sit on his hips.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he purrs, loosening his grip. They're both mostly dressed but still wearing pants, so it takes a little bit more work to get undressed properly. Then both of them partially clothed, Andal only has one boot off and his pants are bunched up at one knee. That's the point where they have a moment of softness, Drifter carefully preparing him. Andal's thighs tremble. The moment ends.
Andal's flat on his back again and his legs are spread, he's helpless under the crushing weight on his chest. Groaning as one hand presses his wrist into the ground below them, then Drifter is pushing into him. He takes it easy, and once he's fully impaled he starts to move. Andal straight-up whimpers into another bruising kiss. When his free hand tries to grab at the man on top of him it's caught and he allows Drifter a moment the arrange both his wrists so they can be pinned uncomfortably under one of his large hands. He's unable to move, unwilling to either.
“Tell me, cowboy,” Drifter growls under his breath, his lips nipping at his jaw. His free hand is crawling up Andal's chest and his hand closes around his throat. He rests it there for a moment, then applies just a little bit of pressure. Just the shock of non-combat lack of air has his blood racing faster, choking out a curse word at the sensation. He doesn't trust the man as far as he can throw him but he has no protests. “How do you like this?” And presses more, fingers pressing under his ear and pressure of his palm on his windpipe. He can see stars.
Drifter loosens his grip, Andal takes a breath and chases his mouth to bite his lip again. “F-fuck, yes.”
The pressure returns and it doesn't take long for him to feel light-headed, he alternates between pushing so hard and nice and gentle. He orgasms at the height of breathlessness, right before he's about to lose consciousness. When he removes his hand completely from his neck Andal arches and sucks in deep ragged breaths, Drifter moans long and low in his ear as he empties into him.
They take a long moment like that, drawing heaving breaths (in Andal's case anyway) and laying where they are. He's pulled a muscle in his shoulder from the position he's being held in, and he lets out a pained noise when he's finally released and can bring his hands back down. Then sighs a soft 'fuck' to himself.
Andal grunts when Drifter pulls out, his spend leaks out of him as he does. He sits up, this is definitely not the most ideal place for any of this. But Drifter tosses him a little towel and Andal lets out a weak bark of laughter.
“You really planned for everything, didn't you? Bet this is the only reason you invited me.”
“Part of it, not gonna lie to you.” The grin is still the same one but looks different now that they've had sex. “But I did need a couple parts from that ketch, just needed a distraction to draw them out. All that damn stealth tech they've got.”
Andal gets to his knees to towel himself off, it's certainly not dignified to look at but he doesn't care much. Drifter's still got his cock out and he's sitting back at the embers of their fire near where he started. At least he's pulled his pants up enough to be somewhat decent. He likes the view, though, but rights his clothes but leaves his boot off. He just sits down next to him and offers him a cigarette.
By then their Ghosts have returned. Despite his Ghost being mostly expressionless, he knows the look she's giving him. He simply shrugs at her.
He gets invited to another run a week later. He takes it, Drifter gets his strange collection pieces and Andal gets his cut too. This time Andal pushes him against the wall of the room they're in while bodies of dead alien clutter their feet. He doesn't care, Drifter pins so damn good against the wall and starts making these weak noises just for him. The ground is solid concrete or stone but neither of them care as the pair arrange themselves on the floor, he still has shadows of bruises on his throat and his wrists and he can still catch the sight of the ones he left on the other too. The ground is in no way comfortable under his knees, and he isn't sure what he's expecting for doing this here.
But Drifter puts that bottle in his hand and smirks up at him and tells him “just get on with it Babydoll.” The name almost makes him lose his focus, how does he come up with this stuff?
He isn't disappointed. Drifter's gone and got himself prepared for this already. His ass is slick and once Andal strokes himself a few times penetration is easy. “All ready for me, I see,” he taunts, head of his cock sinking into the other nice and easy.
“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me, sunshine, figured you've got a danger kink and would want me the second everything else died.” And oh how frustrating this man is, to shut him up he shoves two leather-bound fingers into the man's mouth and presses his thumb hard under his jaw. He feels teeth but they don't bite, his tongue swirls between his fingers obscenely. They stink of ether and gunpowder and he can't imagine his fingers taste any better than they smell. He fucks him hard enough to grind pebbles into his knees and press his armour uncomfortably against his shins. This man has had Andal playing into his hands from the beginning, but he'll be damned before he says no.
He sinks his fingers deeper into his mouth and can feel him gag around them, somehow that's what sets him off, folding him over the other man and groaning through his release. He retracts his fingers, stroking his tongue in long strokes and feels Drifter writhe under him as he reaches his end too.
There are a few moments before they move again, the tang of blood twinged ether that's been lingering in all around them comes back. All he can smell for the moment is their sweat and extracting himself from the position strains his thighs. Now it's Andal's turn to watch him clean himself up as he zips up and tightens his belt.
It becomes a habit after that, Andal preparing himself before he goes to meet him with Drifter doing the same. His Ghost is simply done warning him about what he's doing, having figured that Andal was going to do what he wanted to do regardless of what she thought about it. He's okay with that, it's a fling and little more. They meet anywhere between a few days and a fortnight, sometimes Andal calls him up for a run he needs help with, sometimes the call is just for sex where they grapple for power.
They meet another day but before they get very far Andal hauls him into another room, tucked just out of sight from the Fallen they're hunting. He forces Drifter to his knees and pulls his cock out, fisting his hand in his hair and pushing his thumb past his lips. He really enjoys how it looks when his gloved fingers disappear into his mouth. Drifter always accepts them even if he does sometimes bite. It's never hard. This time Drifter doesn't dare bite, not while Andal's dick is about to be in his mouth and his gun rests loaded against his thigh. He watches his cock replace his thumb, eagerly tugging on his hair just enough to help encourage him to take more of it without forcing it.
This time Andal's the one who has caught him off-guard, he's finally got the upper hand. He hears a noise just outside their little room and draws the sidearm from his loose belt. If anything comes too close he isn't about to let him stop. He holds it steady in his hand with the other still directing the man on his knees. Then Drifter's hand grabs the gun and presses the tip of it to the side of his head. He lifts his finger off the trigger but keeps it close, just in case, digs the tip against his scalp that draws a hushed almost-whimper despite the dick working its way down his throat.
His knees go weak when he finishes, Drifter takes it all then spits it on the ground next to them. Andal's laugh is a little breathless. But when the other gets to his feet again Andal can see the bulge under his belt and roughly pins him to the wall. He directs his sidearm to just under his jaw, using his body to pin him there and palming him somewhat aggressively. “O-oh fuck.” The man gasps and grips hard at Andal's shoulders as he finishes in his pants with a whimper. He actually does sink down to his knees, then, coming face to face with his still open clothes. Andal tucks himself back in and squats in front of him, using the sights of the gun to tip his face up.
“Looks like I found your kink,” he growls.
He gives Drifter a few minutes to recover, adjusting his clothes but not seeming to care much about the wet spot. Andal's a little proud of it. When the man does recover, finally, he puts his hand over Andal's windpipe and gives a threatening squeeze that makes his dick twitch eagerly despite being already spent.
“Oh boy,” he purrs. “I'm going to get you real good for this one.”
He sucks in a breath when he loosens his grip, then leans in to kiss him. Andal's surprised by the tenderness but doesn't complain.
Drifter gets him back a couple weeks later, taking rough twine that rubs his wrists and ankles raw and strapping him to the narrow bed in some remote ruined city. Andal tugs on the restraints and likes the way it burns as the Drifter presses fans of Void light over his skin. Rolling up his belly, circling nipples, down along his thighs and just a breath of it between his legs. He's aching but Drifter never gives him enough to finish. He's fully clothed while Andal's completely bare.
“Aren't you a treat?” He hums, trailing Void-laced fingers up his ribcage. “Dressed up just for me,” he coos.
“Oh fuck off,” Andal gasps in return, squirming, pulling hard at the restraints on his wrists. The other takes pause, Light-free fingers brushing the raw skin gently.
“Need me to loosen this?” He asks, Andal almost laughs.
“I'll tell you if I do,” he replies, and Drifter casts a hand almost tenderly through Andal's hair. The moment ends and it's back to teasing. Drifter kneels between Andal's legs and slips a few fingers into him. He dares to pulse a bit of Void into him and Andal squirms uncomfortably. Not the reaction he wanted, he then goes with a little flicker of Arc and Andal gives him a sigh and tries to rock into the touch. Something larger than a finger presses against him and slides in almost embarrassingly easily, “wha—ah.”
Andal gets to watch Drifter undress now. He's in no hurry to do so, dropping each item on the floor as he goes. At least it's a nice show to watch, Andal had turned down the offered blindfold when he was tied down. Drifter's naked when he comes back into view, Void leaks from his fingers like smoke as he crawls on top of Andal. He settles on his hips for a moment, then bending down to nip Andal's lower lip. He lifts himself off his hips and arches his back to grab at Andal's cock enough to angle it up against his ass. He sits on it and Andal groans, the weight of him causes the thing in him to move.
The feeling is indescribable, being both ridden and penetrated at the same time. A drop of blood slips down his wrist and he decides he's had quite enough of that. A quick flash of Solar breaks the bonds keeping him there, they're still tied around his wrists but he drags his sore arms back down to grab at the man on top of him. Drifter just chuckles deep in his throat.
Andal has never got off that hard in his life.
Later, they're sprawled in bed together and Drifter is holding Andal's hand in the air, the twine had been removed now and the marks are angry red and blistering. His Ghost just knows not to heal them at this point. Andal turns his head to steal a kiss and thinks that he's probably doomed. He wasn't supposed to actually like this strange man.
They travel together after that. And they spend a couple years finding new and exciting ways to fuck, but as the Dark Ages come to the end and rumours of the safe refuge under the Traveler are confirmed to be true, Drifter tells him it's time for him to go. He has a lot of work to do and he can't do that here. Andal's not ready to go yet.
“Don't be sad, beautiful, I'll see you again one day, yeah?” Andal scoffs.
“Me? Sad?” He taunts, Drifter steals away any more words by kissing him.
“I know, I know, you'll be fine.”
And when he goes he is a little sad, but it was an experience. He's essentially immortal, he's bound to be in and out of flings and love for as long as he's alive. He can't get worked up over one person.
Besides, he meets an Exo named Cayde-6 within the year.