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Frank DuFresne was never sure he was in control of much in his life; shipping out wherever designated by command was the easiest part of his job in the UNSC medical corps.
Now, not the best at his job, he wouldn't hesitate to try his hardest, or at the very least, put his best foot forward in any situation.
Positive thoughts, and all.
Being deployed to Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha was easy.
Everything that came after, was another story.
He was posessed and practically taken captive by a rogue AI program- O'Malley- body used as a vessel to carry out whatever plans he had. And while he wasn't completely unconscious, he never had any semblance of control over his physical body.
At times, it felt like there were invisible hands grabbing his joints and forcing them into place, muscles burning, but his brain couldnt get them to stop working.
Like watching a television through a dirty mirror.
After O'Malley was gone, though.
It made moving his own body feel like he was fighting against floodwaters.
Like he had to rewire his brain and teach his own body how to move.
Even now, sometimes there's a bit of a delay with his muscles.
He tried hard to not be frustrated, and to keep a level head. Tried not to be angry.
He had enough being angry to last a lifetime.
Even following Agent Washington and The Meta- being shot at, blown up, yanked around and then left behind, thrown to the wind. Like he was nothing.
He wasn't sure he was ever in control of anything.
However, in the moment right now- he doesnt have to be.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in their shared makeshift cottage, sitting bare but in his briefs, thin orange cord crossing his body along the chest and shoulders.
Donut stood between his spread legs, armor long discarded on the floor, donning his black body suit and working tenderly on the simple pattern of ropework against Doc's bare chest.
His eyes were fixated on Doc's chest, deft fingers sliding cord across cord, wedging his fingers beneath to check for tightness and structure.
He would occasionally stop to rub his thumb against his pectorals, lazily playing with the hairs on Doc's chest before continuing his work.
He took utmost care in making sure that no hairs got pinched on his chest or near his armpits, sliding his palm up and over the cord along Doc's waist with practiced ease.
Donut was so focused.
He really wanted this to be perfect.
For him.
That made Doc's chest swell in a way he can't describe.
“You know, you stick your tongue out between your teeth when you’re concentrating. It’s pretty cute,” Doc manages between careful breath.
“Aw, hush, you.” Donut taps him gently against the chest with a loose end of the rope with a smile. "Im just trying to make things even..."
Doc has realized for a while now that shibari requires a lot of patience. He was certainly surprised that Donut was even willing to take the time to try that first time.
Even the basic knot-work takes time.
He's quite good at it, actually.
He once said it's therapeutic for him, too.
"'Scuse me, sir-" Donut allowed the rope to fall to Doc's side, crawling carefully onto the bed and up behind him. "Better angle this way. Easier to see what I'm workin' with!"
The ropes loop over Doc's shoulders, contouring into a v shape as it connects and knots in the center of his chest, mirrored (albeit a little off center) along his back.
The pattern spans out across the soft muscles of his chest, meeting again just under his armpits, where the cords encircle and knot around his upper arms, where donut was now hard at work, making anchor points to bind his arms together with.
Doc has been holding still, hands clasped behind his back for nearly an hour, waiting patiently.
He hummed an exhale of breath, wiggling his fingers against Donut's thighs that were resting against his hips.
He could swear that he could feel the heat radiating from Donut's body despite the bodysuit between them.
In the moment, he wished desperately for contact with skin, but.
He knows it will all be worth it.
The cool, bordering on downright crisp, Valhalla evening air crept deep under his bare skin, body giving a hearty shudder against his will.
"Hey- Y'okay?"
Donut's voice was low and calm, calculated in the moment. Like night and day when compared with his usual cadence. His hands were held firm in their spot on docs shoulder blades.
Warm hands.
"Yeah- I'm doing alright. H- How are you?" lt was lame, cheesy, some sort of self-soothing response.
He could feel eyes on the back of his neck and hear the sharp expulsion of air from nostrils.
"Im just checking on you, silly. You just got quiet was all." A soft tug of a cord, cinching Doc's forearms closer to eachother behind his back before fastening a knot tight between his wrists. "How's that feel?"
Amazingly tight.
Perfectly restrained.
Can't move.
Don't need to move.
Yours to use, he thinks,
"Im good. Thats-Thats good." Is what he can manage.
He dropped his head to hang heavy against the tension, the tight pull of cord digging into his bare skin, a slight itch, a slight discomfort.
It was perfect.
"There we go. Beautiful." Doc flinched at the low coo against the back of his neck, hot breath sending electricity down his spine.
Despite being his idea in the first place, Doc still felt exposed. Embarassed.
Vulnerable.
He's at Donut's mercy.
And Doc could vibrate out of his skin in excitement.
He trusts Donut.
He didn't need anything else.
Donut's soft hands rested at Doc's waist, digging his blunt thumbnails into the flesh poking out between an intersection of cord.
"Ready for your thighs?" Donut leaned forward, almost touching his chest against Doc's back, maintaining just enough distance to make him shiver.
He can be such a tease in these moments.
Gosh.
"Mmhm" Doc managed out, sighing when donut pushed his nose against the back of his head, inhaling deep in his short dark curls. "Im ready."
"Good..." a soft kiss to the back of his head was his reward. "Good boy."
Gosh.
Donut rolled rather ungracefully onto the floor, with a soft 'oof' and a giggle while he reached for two more cord from their respective container.
Doc tends to get flustered around this point, and Donut knows that.
Of course he knows that, by now.
But he always tries to make Doc as comfortable as possible before moving on to the next step.
He's so incredible.
"Alrighty-- Left leg first!" Donut pat the soft skin on the inside of Doc's thigh, thumb running dangerously close to the fabric of his briefs eliciting a sharp tremor.
He's playing coy today, Doc noted, before bending his knee and tucking his foot square against his butt, leaning back onto the bed and his newly restricted arms.
The cord wasn't perfect by any means, less of a natural fiber and more of a heavy duty cord meant for shipping, but, in a war (was it even a war?) you simply make due.
But the way it looped around his thigh? Biting into the skin while being cinched tight, a bit scratchy against his shin, knot hard against his outer leg being pulled tight together?
It was everything.
A warm hand was splayed across his bound chest, guiding his back and arms carefully until he was laying down completely.
Donut was smiling, his bright eyes scrunched up at the corners, cheek dimpled on his left side. "Hey."
Doc secretly wonders if Donut will get smile lines and crows feet when he gets older. He smiles so much.
"Uhm... Hey," it was a lame reply, a lump in his throat fighting desperately to keep it inside.
He felt like he was going crazy.
His skin was growing hot, and his fingers tingling below him were the brightest sensations that he was focusing on.
Donut guided Doc's right leg into the same position; knee bent, foot tucked against his buttocks, before setting in to work on the last knots.
Tight.
So, so, impossibly tight, Doc thinks, wiggling his fingertips and toes aimlessly, well,
It's the only thing he can do, right now. Chest straining at the cords to breathe fully, nostrils flaring as he stared up at the ceiling before donut leaned into his line of sight, mussed sandy hair falling into his eyes.
Doc doesnt mean to stare.
Staring is rude, he knows that.
But in the dim lights of their shared bedroom, Donut was absolutely radiant.
He couldnt help it.
He focused intensely on Donuts face, slim jawline and soft blue eyes; the curve of a once violent scar from years past, faded over time, ungulfed his left cheek, but disappeared behind his ear caught in the light. His front teeth were crooked, visible in a lopsided grin.
Cute.
"Y'feel good?" A hand came up to caress Doc's face, brushing a stray dark curl from his forehead.
He nodded with a jolt. He can’t help the shivery hitch of his breath, and the shorter soldier responds to it, shifting forward on his spot on the bed.
His legs spread, a purposeful move so Doc can see the way his hardness strains at his bodysuit.
Oh.
“You ready for me?” Donut whispered. The low rasp of his voice draws a shiver over Frank's spine.
“Of course,” Doc murmurs, lifting his eyes to meet Donut's again.
Donut lingers a moment, taking a last pleased look at his hard work, relishing in the way that Doc had been laid out for him.
His warm brown skin was flushed around the edges of his shoulders, dark curls matted down to his forehead and along his ears, deep brown eyes fixated intensely on Donut. The bright orange cords were a delightful contrast on his skin.
"You look so perfect for me." It came out as a purr, stroking the line of his jaw with the back of a soft unshaking hand.
Doc waits, quiet and patient, knowing his reward will come soon.
Its agony waiting, but all worth the wait. The cords keep him still, though he cant help but tremble in his excitement.
Doc stares hard and unblinking to the point his eyes might unfocus. But when Donut stands and begins to un-do his kevlar body suit, he can’t help the small whimper that drops from his lips.
Franklin Donut is simply a gorgeous sight.
His body is perfect; doughy pectoral muscles flex at the roll of his shoulders, shaking the suit from his arms, thick arms.
Years of tossing, he's said.
Working on the farm, he's said.
All things that were left unexplained yet said with a smile.
He had no hair on his chest (whether its a grooming technique or a genetic trait, Doc hasn't figured out yet) but below the right pectoral there was a fresh scar, a bullet wound that was opened and cleaned and sutured by his own shaking hands.
When they first really had time to open up to eachother.
Coming down his belly, his impossibly narrow waist, a thin line of soft brown hair descending from his naval and disappeared behind his suit, situated on his hips. Doc feels his breath hitch on a groan. His own cock pulses in anticipation.
“Shh,” Donut chides. His fingers comb through Doc's thick hair, trace the shell of his ears, the line of his jaw. "You're doing so good..."
Doc sighs and leans into the touch as much as he can. Even such innocent contact is stimulating to his body at this point, every brush of a knuckle and finger tip setting his skin on fire.
Donut shifts and pushes his suit down just enough off of his hips that his cock slips free, letting out a low, sighing groan at the loss of pressure. He gives a soft laugh and a dramatic shudder as the cool air hits his skin. Doc marvels as the younger wraps a loose fist around himself, watches the slow twisting tugs that are only a tease of sensation.
Doc wishes it was his own hand gripping the thick erection, or his mouth wrapped around the deep pink head that begs for stimulation.
Something.
Anything.
"Donut," It comes as a breath, like it's natural. "Please..."
There was another laugh, Donut's free hand came up to push fallen locks of hair back up his forehead. "Please? Now, I know the magic words and all, but, Doc, I don't quite know what you're askin' for."
A crooked grin.
That damn cheek dimple.
The rope tugs hard against his chest and arms, knees straining and muscles aching so delightfully and setting his nerves on fire, chewing on the corner of his lips to soothe the pressure building in his chest, in his own waiting dick, pressing uselessly against his briefs. Doc practically whimpered from his place on the bed, head turning uselessly onto the pillow.
"Franklin-"
It isnt that their first names are off limits for either of them, rather, it was amusing to the both of them that they shared a first name. However, it's still a rarity for either of them to use them.
Even more rare during sex.
And that elicitied a reaction he wasnt expecting, a low grunt and huff from above him as Donut stepped closer, cupping his head with a free hand. His hand tangles in Doc's curls, holding him still for a moment. Pupils blown wide, blue eyes piercing his very core. A deep red flush crept up Donut's chest up twoards his ears.
He was starting to lose his own composure.
Doc found it so endearing, took a sense of pride in this. The fact that he can shake the confident soldier, fluster him, effect him so deeply.
The only sound emanating in room were shallow shaking breaths from Doc's nose, mouth shut tight. Donut rubbed the head of his cock against his lips, giving a soft tap and relishing in the warm contact.
Doc waited with bated breath, fingers curled tight, fingernails cutting crescents into his palms.
“Go on,” he grinds out, loosening his hold on his hair. Doc parts his lips, sliding them slowly around his gift, circling his toungue around the head. He feels the swell in body heat from Donut's abdomen against his nose, hears the sharp intake of breath. “Gosh, you’re just so pretty with your mouth on me. Needed it that bad, huh?”
Doc can only answer with a soft moan, flattening his tongue against the bottom of the cock in his mouth. His eyes flutter closed as Donut's scent and heat wraps around him, fogging up his brain and leaving him unable to form words or proper thought. He tastes like sweat and pine, sickeningly sweet in his mouth.
It was intoxicating.
He felt truly locked down in the moment. Unable to think, unable to move. Completely at Donut's whim. His fingers flexed uselessly beneath himself holding the blanket weakly in his sweaty palms.
He wanted more.
Doc simply hums, deep in his throat, closing his eyes to focus. Donut's cock sitting heavy on his tongue, salty pre-come coating his mouth. The hand in his hair guides him, and Doc lets Donut pace the way he bobs up and down on his cock, relaxing his neck and shoulders into his touch. "Thats- ah- that's really good, Doc, you're being so good for me, such a good boy,"
Donut’s soft words of praise and encouragement wash over him, and he responds with hums and moans, increased suction, taking his cock in deeper until he swallows around the aching head. Donut's hands fixed steady on the back of Docs head, pushing him deeper onto his cock with a steady motion, practically using his mouth.
Time is meaningless in this position. All that mattered to him was making Donut feel good.
Pushing him, inch by inch, to the edge.
To make him cum.
His shoulders burn at every flex of muscle, cord cutting hard into his skin around his forearms.
There was a sharp tug at his hair before the fingers loosened just a touch. Doc blinked his bleary eyes- fuzzy with stinging tears, lifting them to look at the man above him.
Donut is flushed, broad chest heaving with panting breaths. His eyes are wild and hungry. “Okay,” his voice a little more than a desperate growl. “Make me cum, Frank.”
A moan rips itself from Doc's throat, startling even himself, the sound muffled around the cock in his mouth- vibrations pulling a growl of a response from above him.
He pulls back to the head, sucking at the sensitive flesh. His tongue rubs against his frenulum before relaxing his throat, already strained and tired, and sinks back onto his cock to the base, nose brushing ever so slightly at the soft tuft of pubes that curl around it. He can't help the moan when he swallows around the cock, feeling it give a hard throb.
He's almost there.
The vibration of the sound only drives Donut crazier, a string of swears and uncouth dirty talk falling steadily from his mouth.
He begins to thrust his hips, small sharp little jolts, and Doc just opens his mouth wider, letting the cock fuck into him, jaw sore, drool dribbling down his chin.
His mind is going blank being used like this.
Like he belongs only to Donut, mind and body.
And honestly, that doesn't sound like that bad an idea.
“F-Frank, God, shit,” Donut hisses, thrusting in deeper, deeper, getting a low pattern of whines in response. Lifting his eyes again, meeting the piercing gaze, he relaxes again and swallows Donut deep, fighting back a gag that threatens at his throat.
Donut swears again (always swearing when he gets close), breathless now. His hand cradles the back of the older man's head, strong and insistent. His hips move in short, desperate thrusts erratic, uncalculated, messy, his cock sliding thick and heavy over his tongue.
Doc can feel how close he is, the knowledge making his own cock twitch forgotten against his briefs, pre-come now soaking the dark fabric. He whimpers again, swallowing a gasp around the head, scraping his teeth light over the hard flesh, looking up through his eyelashes to take a peek, staring at the flushed face, the eyes held shut, the open mouth of Donut above him.
He looked absolutely incredible.
Then, he feels the pleasure break, hears Donut's voice crack through a shout, drawing back just enough (as much as the rope would let him) so the cum spills into his mouth and against his waiting tongue. He moans around him, sucking at the head, milking him of every last drop he could.
Donut grunts weakly as his erection twitches hard one last time. Doc swallows, pulling slowly off the wet flesh.
He hums at the sight of the gorgeous cock, barely softened, shiny with his spit and traces of cum. He laps him clean, gentle, careful. A shaking hand pets his hair with a tenderness that makes his chest feel warm.
“Perfect, darlin’,” Donut murmurs. He swallowed, throat impossibly dry. “So good to me. You deserve a reward for that, don't you, Frank?”
His already trembling breath hitches in his sore throat, looking up to Donut again. He can see his pupils dilate as Franklin takes him in – tangled hair, flushed cheeks, lips swollen and slick; his own pupils so dilated his eyes were nearly black.
“You're so beautiful,” Donut marvels. His hand cups his cheek, thumbing softly over the hot skin. He lowers himself to the bed in front of him, hands resting soft and sure against Doc's tired and shaking thighs. “My beautiful Frank. And so hard. That must feel so awful, honey.”
He wedges three fingers under the knot at the center of Doc's chest, pulling him to sit upright, dazed, confused, pliable.
“Please, Donut,” he whispers. His body starts to tremble, just an inch. “I-I want you to touch me. Need to cum, F-Franklin please, need it so bad-”
“Shhh,” The low hush soothes his tremor “You took such good care of me, okay? I’m gonna take care of you, now, just relax." His voice was so low and gentle, sliding his fingers down the front of Doc's briefs, pushing them down far enough to expose his aching cock to the cold night air.
The first touch just about makes him cry.
Donut murmurs soothing words, gentle coos, his other arm wrapping around Doc's waist to hold him steady. Doc leans into his shoulder, sobbing in relief as Donut strokes his aching cock.
It feels so good that it hurts. He tries relentlessly to thrust into Donut’s palm, but tied tight as he is, he couldn't move enough to accomplish hardly anything at all, leaving himself frustrated, shaking, and grunting uselessly against a hot shoulder.
Doc manages to angle his head down, before biting down against the shoulder. Donut’s hand is perfect around him, an envelope of heat and pressure. "You're okay, Doc, I got you," a whisper, a promise.
One that Doc believes with his whole chest.
He’s spilled so much pre-come that Donut ’s hand slides easily along his throbbing cock. He was painfully stiff, the head of his dick almost purple in desperate need. The coils of heat in his stomach wound tight, and the heavy heartbeat flooded his ear, muffling Donut's soft encouragements.
Catching a glimpse of himself being pumped gently by Donut's firm fist makes him whimper loud, pressing his face against the youngers neck. “Pl....Please” he sobs out, desperate, “Donut I don't know how long I can hang on-I might-”
“It’s all right,” Donut whispered against the shell of his ear. “You don’t have to hold out. You’ve done so good tonight, you can cum. Let me feel you let go, okay? I'll catch you.”
That was all he needed to fall apart.
"O-Oh Gosh--" Doc cried out, body jerking hard as his orgasm shattered through him. His cock pulsed hard in Donut ’s firm grip, spitting cum onto them both- hot and sticky. "Fu.... Fuckfuckfuckshit--"
He really shouldn't use language like that
He was so embarrassed .
The initial Shockwave reduces him to nothing but bliss, and he collapses fully into Donut who whispers, "Good boy, Frank, you did so good for me, I'm so proud of you--"
The aftershocks of his pleasure leave him twitching and shivering in his bonds. Eyes fluttered shut, mouth ticking up into a relaxed smile against Donut's heaving chest, still sticky with sweat.
He’s dimly aware of Donut ’s arms wrapping around him, his low voice murmuring praise in his ear. Doc can’t reply beyond pressing his nose weakly at his shoulder.
Warm, gentle hands stroke over his skin. Donut ’s fingers work at the intricate knots. Time is meaningless, but Doc feels the pressure holding his arms in place loosen, the rasp of the ropes being unwound from his skin as Donut rubbed gingerly at the indents and scratches left behind.
His muscles twitch weakly at the freedom from their bindings, aching, a dull burning.
His own control melting back into his tired bones.
Donut moves to his legs next, releasing them from their sharp bend. His hands are slow and gentle as he stretches the man's long legs out.
Pins and needles envelop Doc’s legs, but before he can form words, Donut ’s hands are working over him, easing the sensation in his defined muscles.
"Beautiful, Doc, doing so good," his voice was always so gentle and careful. Airy and full of life. Donut was a bright beacon, guiding him back into the real world. "Almost done, okay? "
Last comes the harness; Donut unties just a few knots before it loosens, and he's wiggling it off so easily.
He takes the time to put all the rope away in their containers, wiping them both clean with a soft towel before tugging at the blankets to throw them on top of Doc's limp form on the bed.
Doc wants something warmer, something more, and he catches Donut ’s wrist, thumb rubbing downright desperately against the skin there. "You should lay down, too."
“Well, geez, Doc, I wasn't planning on leaving you high and dry,” Donut hums in reply. "Or I guess, low and wet, huh." He kicks off his bodysuit into the pile of armor before climbing into the bed behind Doc. Sighing dramatically against the hot and sticky skin.
Doc rolls over, slow and careful, needing to press deeper into him. Wrapped up in the warmth, he can’t keep from drooping his eyes. The intensity of his orgasm has left him loose and pleasantly drowsy.
Donut ’s hands work over him, petting him. The touch is soothing and lulls Doc further into his drowsiness. “Rest now,” Donut murmurs. “I’m right here.”
"We forgot Lopez outside,” Doc manages. A sudden realization shocking his fuzzed brain into a moment of clarity, subdued only by Donut's hand carding through tangled curls. He presses in close, relaxing into the familiarity of Donut ’s body. A small laugh rolled through his cheek from deep within the warm chest.
"Probably for the best, yknow," a kiss to the top of his head, a breath from the nostrils, "I'll bring him inside in a bit, just, get some sleep. Doctor's orders."
He couldn't help the snort of a laugh, tongue clicking at the roof of his mouth in response. Feeling safe and content, he dozes in his spot surrounded by warmth,
Frank DuFresne was never sure he ever had control over his life in the military.
But with Donut.
He doesn't have to be.
And that's pretty fucking great.