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The mission was simple. Get in, take pictures of the metal gear, and get out. Well, it would be if it wasn’t for the growing distraction in his pants.
Snake had just disregarded it as him putting on the sneaking suit incorrectly. But despite all the fidgeting and fixing the feeling in clit didn’t go away. It was distracting, which, obviously, was dangerous given the gravity of the situation. So the first moment he had to fix himself he jumped at. When he slipped into the locker he was already panting. Quietly, he watched the rusted, metal door across the room for what felt like a long, long time. He knew he couldn’t be loud or he would be caught. Plus he didn’t know how to get rid of Otacon, it’s not like he had anywhere to go, he was in their van. He couldn’t ask him to leave, Otacon would never leave Snake basically blind during a mission. And asking for privacy was out of the question for the sheer fact that it was embarrassing. A couple seconds later, his intense plotting was interrupted by the sound of his codec ringing. “Snake, are you all alright?” Otacon. God that voice was angelic. This really did not help the throbbing in between his legs. In fact, it made it worse, almost painful. He brushed his thighs together to try and calm things down.
Snake knew it wasn’t right to feel the way he felt about Otacon. It had nothing to do with it being gay, but more with the fact that their relationship was strictly business and nothing more. Plus Snake had no clue about how Hal- Otacon felt about being with someone who was trans. Despite all of this Snake couldn’t help but feel that some of his partner’s teasing was much more than friendly “locker room” banter.
“Snake?” the voice chimed again.
“Yeah,” he answered, “just heard a lot more guys coming than I expected”
“Oh boy. You wait here, I’ll check the cameras.”
Now was his chance. He slid his hand from his chest down to his pubic mound. All while making eye contact with the woman on the poster’s breasts. For as long as he could remember he labeled himself as bisexual, but recently the term hadn’t really resonated with him. So, candidly, he was unsure of how much help she was going to bring to the table. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and began massaging his clit in an up and down motion. He thought of her thin, bony fingers caressing his hip- thin and bony? He opened his eyes, her hands weren’t thin and bony they were small, soft, and dainty... why? Why did it matter what her hands looked or felt like? He closed his eyes and imagined her rubbing where he was rubbing himself on his chest. He could taste blood from biting his lips too hard to keep quiet. Truthfully, he wasn’t experiencing the same shocks of pleasure as before. So, in an attempt to get things moving, reached out and traced the curve of the woman’s breast with the pointer finger of his left hand. He sighed, honestly it didn’t matter what the hands looked or felt like, it mattered who they were attached to. His mind wandered, and not very far before his breath quickened and eyes fluttered shut. His name filled his mind, not that stupid nickname, his real name. Hal. His hips bucked forward, aching for someone to reach out and touch him.
He was weak.
He thought of those thin, bony fingers caressing his insides and their owner leaned over him, whispering in his ear at how good he was at keeping quiet. Among other raunchy things. Then, he thought about the 1 in a million chance that Hal was watching and touching himself along. Laying back with his shirt in his mouth, all red and flustered, tears in the corner of his eyes as he mercilessly pumped himself to completion. Snake’s fingers sped up to match the rhythm of the Hal in his head. He thought about the noises he would be making. Small, soft moans that slowly got louder as he got closer and closer to climax. He thought about Hal begging, begging for Snake to let him finish. When Snake finally let the Hal in his mind finish, the thought of him releasing onto his own stomach was enough for him. His hips bucked forwards again, this time aching to release all the pent up pressure of a mounting orgasm. He let them take control, grinding his clit into his fingers. Harder and harder until his clit ached from oversensitivity.
Legs shaky, he rubbed his fingers on the fabric on his leg. While he recollected his breath and mind, he fixed the crotch area of his suit. His face flushed at the distinct chime of his codec. He reluctantly answered, still breathing heavily.
“What do you think you’re doing, Snake? You don’t have enough to keep you busy? Try to remember the mission if you can.” Otacon scolded before hanging up, his face bright red from his ears down to his neck.
“You were watching?”