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Down the Rabbit Hole We Go.

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All he wants is to fool himself for a little while, to chase the Rabbit down the hole; but this is the closest he'll ever get outside of the Drift.

(And it's not enough. It's never enough.)

Chuck's back thuds hard against the steel wall behind him. He's lighter, shorter and that should mean something but Raleigh just surges forward, thigh pushing between the younger pilot's legs. His teeth clasp onto the sweat-drenched flesh of his throat and he bites down hard. Not enough to bruise, that would be against the ground rules. No markings, no matter how much Chuck might have wanted them.

Bruises means he couldn't pretend, couldn't for just one second believe that it isn't a slighter man pressed up against him but someone broader, more built. More everything. Bruises mean in the future, he'll need to come to terms with what he just done, with whom he just done it with.

The taste might not be the same but it's close enough. It has to be. It needs to be. If he believes hard enough, it will be enough but it never is. It's all wrong but he doesn't have to think about that right now. Not when a heave groan is all he hears, breath brushing against the edge of his ear. The warm heartbeat underneath his hand throbs hard and strong. The muscles under his fingertips are smooth and unmarred, toned and almost perfect.

Raleigh pushes forward, the hard press of his cock branding against his belly as he rocks forward. Chuck's own erection heats up his thigh despite the layers of clothes between them. The jerk of the younger male's hips bring a cocky uplift to one corner of Raleigh's lips.

His hand brushes down against line of toned abdomens until he reaches the hem of Chuck's pants. Instead of slipping inside, he pulls hard on the back of the cocky upstart's head. Each tug almost guaranteeing he'd tear each strand of hair by the root but the way Chuck's pupils are blown, Raleigh knows he likes it like this. Rough, hard, almost feral.

Sometimes, in the back of his mind, Raleigh wonders if Chuck thinks of someone when they're together just like how he forces himself to pretend that it's Yancy he's biting the neck of. Yancy he's rutting against. The stiffness of his sex and the tell-tale moisture only heightens his need, making him pull harder, to think more forcibly. To believe with all his might.

Raleigh's eyes clench tight and he breathes in deep.

His teeth rake over Chuck's throat, his tongue lapping heavy until he sucks hard on the other pilot's collar bone. His right hand spasms over Chuck's belly. His left almost goes numb with the tight grip he has.

He shifts his leg, forcing Chuck to spread his own wider and let him in.

There isn't enough room in the supply closet to properly bend him over, to fuck him. To ride him. To think that it's Yancy's ass he's about to thrust into. Or Yancy's heavy, hard cock fucking his brains out. It's too cramp for all of that but he can do at least this much before Mako comes looking for him for another discussion about Drifting and ways they can improve their bond.

He can push his hand further down Chuck's pants, grasp a hold of the pulsating arousal. He might be even able to go onto his knees, replace his fingers with his mouth but the throbbing of Chuck's dick tells him how much control he doesn't have. His own cock feels the same way, especially with how Chuck's hand drags nails against the bare flesh of his shoulder, having crawled its way underneath his sweater without him knowing. The pricks of pain have him stiffening, growling low. The drags of nails somehow following the red vivid lines that covered his person, the scars of that fateful night in the Bering Sea.

Raleigh hisses, nostrils flaring and his grip tightens to the point he might as well be constricting blood but Chuck laughs, hot and arrogant. His nails dig deeper and Raleigh does the same, taking pride at the sudden gasp, hard swallow. His mouth covers Chuck's Adam's apple and he strokes, first up and then down.




Chuck growls and jerks forward, his hip slamming against Raleigh's own. A sudden shift and they're aligned, Raleigh's hand trapped between them but he doesn't care. Not one bit. His own hips buckle and he pulls out his hand, fingers nibble against the fasteners of Chuck's pants and then his own.

It's Chuck that pulls their trousers far enough for their cocks to bob forward, to brush against one another. It's Chuck who inhales sharp with his mouth falling open. It's Chuck whose back bows from the spark of lust that boils in them.

But it's Raleigh that takes the initiative, sliding his shaft alongside the younger pilots. His hand drops from the back of Chuck's head, releasing the death grip he has on the Striker pilot's hair. His fingers dig hard into the flesh of Chuck's hips, almost enough to bruise but he refrains and just rocks forward, forehead pressed against Chuck's bomber jacket.

He inhales the mix of leather and male musk, the permeating scent that is Chuck and only Chuck and it's hard to fall back into his memories, more so when he's not in the Drift but damn if he'd let his mind linger when Mako's there with him. He can't relive all the memories he had with Yancy, especially the precious ones but he can pretend for just a little while at this very moment.

Raleigh exhales and bumps his hips against Chuck, grinding hard as Chuck echoes the move with more force than Raleigh's own. His lips curl and he bucks forward, one hand slipping to Chuck's ass and he squeezes hard. Chuck's nails grip his shoulders, leaving marks but they'd fade. He knows they will and Raleigh just surrenders to the sensation, the animalistic need and lust that builds higher and higher. A growl rumbles in his throat and the muscles in his neck strain, veins throbbing as he breathes in deeper, exhaling louder.

Chuck's breathy moans are almost a symphony in his ear and Raleigh grunts in response.

One of Chuck's hands follows the line of his neck upward, fingers twinning in Raleigh's own short blond locks until they tighten and pull. Raleigh's head is forced back and he snarls but this time it's Chuck who pounces. Teeth attack his lips, tongue thrusting between them hard enough to invade and gain entrance. Raleigh's growl reverberates in his throat but Chuck doesn't pause, doesn't submit, he pushes and pushes.

Raleigh's hand clench even tighter, their hips pressed hard, cocks aligned and wet with each other's evident need.

Chuck swallows Raleigh's air and Raleigh can't do anything to stop him. His own tongue slides against Chuck's and the thrust of his hips against the other male's grows even more erratic. His face flushes, cheeks growing dark.

Eyes fall shut and he explodes, Chuck following a heartbeat later.

Raleigh's head slumps forward, resting against Chuck's shoulder. He shudders, breathing deep, trying to chase the rabbit in the brief euphoria that envelopes him, the lightheadedness that can only come from something like this.

But the rabbit isn't there.

This isn't the Drift and Chuck isn't his partner. Isn't his soul mate. He can't be, he lost that part of him five years ago and fuck it, the rabbit is only a distant memory and not one he wants to share with Mako. Let her see how his brother died, reaching for him in those last moments but not the intimacy that still ran taboo in this day and age.

It's with a groan that he collapses more into Chuck, clutching him tight like a life raft. Their breaths are both heavy, intermingling in the air around them but Chuck straightens and takes that step forward. He doesn't even have to push hard, Raleigh falls away on his own until his own back meets the other wall of the closet.

Raleigh doesn't lift his head, or even move to watch as Chuck storms out after tucking his flaccid cock back into his pants. He knows the other pilot won't look back. He never does and if he did, Raleigh never did.

He's too busy trying to find that place he always found with his brother.

A place that no longer exists.