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The night arrived way too quickly for the blue-haired soldier, who was resting at the side of the door that was located on these private little "apartments" solely for the survivors to spend the night. The Spectre is considerate enough to give them a little space for themselves, maybe to torture them with their thoughts or something, but who knows; it was a tiring day, three daily rounds where they had to run non-stop from 1x. And even when time itself doesn't exist in that realm, more than a fake weather and a day/night cycle that doesn't seem to be consistent at all; the hours passed, it was getting colder outside, so Guest decided that the best idea was to get inside and prepare for tomorrow. He might not be in the army anymore, but he still has a strict schedule that he always follows to keep his mind busy and not fall into sole insanity; the whole routine was getting ready to sleep at a certain hour to be able to be awake at 5:00 am of the next day.
- "No wonder it was getting chilly” said Guest in a low tone, looking through the window briefly, noticing how it started to rain while he was getting ready for bed.
Things have been slow in the realm; nothing really new has happened between the survivors besides the constant and tiring reminder that they're trapped in there forever as well. They know Guest 1337 isn't safe from the bad thoughts that this prison gives him, but at this point it’s useless to just lay down and cry over the same thing over and over. Of course, he had moments of weakness where he could barely move from bed, but all he needs is a cup of coffee to bring him back to his senses. He somehow always looks tired but will stay strong for himself and others as much as needed. And tonight wasn't better than previous days but getting enough sleep could be a great way to momentarily "escape” from that hell realm. Even though that night was quieter than usual, it wasn't the moment to pay attention to that. With a tank top and some pants, he sat on the bed staring at the wall for a few brief minutes as his mind was clearly occupied thinking about the next morning and complex feelings about certain events that occurred during the rounds. But it was late already, so he laid himself on the hard bed, tucking himself in and closing his eyes, already tired from today's work. He fell asleep almost instantly.
...
Then he felt a certain presence. Someone was watching him silently from the end of the bed.
He moved around in bed, like he couldn’t sleep anymore, and as soon as he slowly opened his eyes, he saw that obscure figure looking directly at him.
- “Huh!? What the—” Almost jumping from the bed, he threw a pillow at the guy who was standing there, who didn’t move a muscle.
- “Hey...” That jockey-like mask made him realize who the person really was, so he sat in bed with a nervous smile in an awkward position due to being caught like this. – “Jason, what's up, buddy?”
The truth was, these two had been meeting in secret for far longer than anyone survivor or killer suspected. Under the guise of usual combat, they carved out stolen moments; brief respites from the chaos, where they could “speak” freely, negotiate the rhythm of their rounds, and, more importantly, be themselves more. What started as accidental meetups slowly unraveled into something far more intimate.
It was never supposed to happen at all. In a hell place where vulnerability was punished and connection was a rare liability; love was the most dangerous rebellion of all especially because of the situation of both being on totally different sides. But somewhere between the shared silences and the unspoken understanding of what it meant to survive, they found each other. Not just as companions or fellow veterans from the same war, but as two fractured souls who saw their own pain reflected in the other’s eyes.
They had both been through hell-war-torn landscapes, sleepless nights haunted by memories of their horrible past, how they lost their loved ones, and the relentless weight of PTSD. Yet in each other’s presence, the noise quieted. The world didn’t stop, but it softened on a soft breeze. It was a long way from the first time they clashed, fists of fury and a machete masking the bloody fear beneath. Now, they learned to read each other’s pain, to offer comfort in glances and gestures too subtly for anyone else to notice.
-“What brings you here in the middle of the night? ah”- Said Guest as Slasher grabbed his hand and put trinkets on it, some sticks, dried flowers and even a bird skull. – “erm, thanks.”
It was not surprising to receive these kinds of trinket gifts from Jason. They were small, often odd little objects, sometimes a little animal carved in wood, other times a scrap of metal shaped into something vaguely symbolic. It might not have been Guest’s cup of tea, but it was unmistakably Jason’s way of communicating. A quiet offering, a signal that he was in a good mood, open to conversation.
With a flick of his hand, Guest gestured for Slasher to come closer and take a seat on the edge of the bed. The room was dim, the air humid and heavy with the kind of silence that only comes after a loud storm. Slasher hesitated for a moment, then complied, settling beside him with a cautious ease. There was no tension just the quiet hum of something unspoken passing between them.
Jason wasn’t someone of big words. He never had been. His language was built from gestures, from the way he handed over a gift without explanation, or the way he sat just close enough to share warmth without demanding attention. Words were too fragile, too easily twisted. But gestures… gestures were more honest.
And tonight, with the trinket resting between them and the quiet invitation to sit, it was clear: Jason was ready to let someone in, if only for a little while.
-“Today… was boring”-. Jason muttered with his usual raspy and low voice as he was staring at the empty walls in front of them, thinking about the usual stuff. – “I was wondering if I could… stay with you tonight”
- “Oh, I meant—why not?” Guest blurted out, voice tinged with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite mask the loneliness underneath. “Sometimes I get very lonely from just being here.” The words hung in the air longer than expected, heavier than he intended. He hadn’t meant to sound so exposed, but once spoken, there was no taking them back.
He glanced over Jason, half-expecting judgment or discomfort, but instead found quiet understanding as usual. Still, a flicker of guilt crept in he seemed unsure. Had he made it awkward? After all the time they’d spent in this place, this was the first night they were sharing a bed.
-“At least,” he added on a softer tone now, “it’s better than spending the night alone.” That sounded a bit flustered because he indeed was.
-“We huh… the survivors, we barely spend time together in the lobby,” he continued, voice quieter now. “Usually only a few people talk, and even then, it’s like they already have their own little group. I just… I don’t have anything interesting to add.” There was no bitterness in his voice, just a quiet resignation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to connect, it was that he didn’t know how to insert himself into conversations that felt like already closed circles.
The silence from Jason was usual but comforting, even understanding the situation that Guest had with other survivors; they both knew this place wasn’t built for warmth. It wasn’t the kind of environment where people casually hung out or shared stories over coffee. It was daily torture hell, and everyone who survived it carried their own scars, some visible, some buried deep.
-“Uhm…”
For a moment, Jason hesitated. His body shifted slightly, uncertain. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned in and rested his head gently on Guest’s shoulder. Taking a bit of time to wrap his arm around his waist. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, a mix of surprises and something dangerously close to hope. Jason wasn’t the kind of person who reached out. He was the kind who stayed back, who watched, and was a bit afraid of taking the first step yet tonight… was different.
Guest’s breath caught as Jason’s arm tightened around his waist. It wasn’t just comfort anymore; it was deliberate. Intentional. The kind of touch that lingered just a second too long, that said more than either of them had dared to voice.
Jason’s head rested against his shoulder, but his fingers had started to move slowly, tentative strokes along the curve of Guest’s hip, like he was memorizing the shape of him through layers of fabric. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Not innocent. Not anymore.
-“Hey…” Guest’s fingers curled slightly into Jason’s sleeve, grounding himself against the slow burn building between them. The air felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken but undeniable. Slasher’s hand had slipped beneath the hem of Guest’s tank top, calloused fingertips grazing bare skin with reverence that made Guest’s stomach tighten.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was deliberate and bold.
Guest wasn’t sure who moved first. Maybe it didn’t matter. The space between them had been shrinking for days or weeks, even. Every glance, every brush of fingers, every moment spent too close and too quiet had been building toward this. And now, with Jason’s caressing his body like this it was an obvious sign. Jason’s breath was warm against his neck, shallow and uneven. His grip wasn’t steady anymore as it trembled slightly, like he was holding back a flood. Guest could feel it in the way Jason’s fingers curled against his side, in the way his body leaned in just a little too much, like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go completely.
-“You don’t have to hide anymore”- Guest said on a very low tone, to give enough confidence. He turned his head, just enough to feel the edge of Jason’s mask graze his cheek.
Jason didn’t answer. But as his hand slid under Guest’s tank top, palm flat against bare skin, and that silence spoke louder than anything. It was desperate. Careful. Like he was trying to memorize the feeling before it disappeared.
Guest’s own restraint shattered. He grabbed the front of Jason’s jacket, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the charged space between them. “I’ve wanted this” as they both get closer, until the mask has turned into a little problem between their faces.
Guest’s hands moved to the sides of the mask, hesitating. -“Let me see you,”- he said, voice cracking with the weight of it. -“Just this once.”- Jason froze. His breath hitched for a bit. Then, slowly, he reached up and covered Guest’s hands with his own. He didn’t stop him at all.
The mask came off.
Jason’s lips hovered near Guest’s jaw, not quite touching, but close enough to make his skin burn. His breath was uneven, and Guest could feel the tension in his body like he was holding back a flood that had nowhere else to go. Maybe it was because of how strange the situation was for both or how confident Jason was enough to share intimacy in this way with Guest.
-“You’re shaking.”- Guest whispered slowly, voice thick with need.
Jason didn’t answer. He just leaned in, finally letting his lips brush the edge of Guest’s throat with a very soft, tentative, but unmistakably real feeling. The contact sent a jolt through Guest’s body, and he gasped, fingers tightening in Jason’s shirt.
That was all it took, and it was fierce.
Their mouths met with a hunger that had been simmering beneath every glance, every silent night, every moment spent pretending not to want. Jason responded instantly, his hand sliding up Guest’s back, fingers splayed wide as if anchoring himself to the reality of this whole situation. The kiss deepened, messy and breathless, lips parting and colliding again with a desperation that made the world blur. His touch was reverent and greedy all at once, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship or consume. Guest arched into him, breath catching as Jason’s lips broke from his trail along his jaw, down his neck, each kiss a promise, each caress a way of confession.
They weren’t careful anymore. They didn’t need to be. The tension had broken, and in its place was something wild and full of tenderness, something that had waited too long to be felt.
-“I… need you.”- Slasher whispered, dragging Guest down with him onto the bed, their limbs tangling in a frenzy of need where Jason was over the other body. They moved like they were starving, as if every second apart had been a punishment for them. There was no hesitation now, only the rhythm of bodies colliding against the other blinded by need, the sound of groans swallowed by kisses, and since it was raining the sounds were mostly silenced due to that.
-“Don’t hold back” Guest could feel it in the way Jason’s hands gripped his hips, from the messy movements it was obvious that both of their pants were wet enough to sense the feeling no longer tentative but commanding, like they couldn’t bear another second of distance.
Their mouths met again, harder this time, teeth grazing, breath stolen. Guest groaned into the kiss, fingers digging into Jason’s back, pulling him closer, closer, until their bodies were flushing and trembling. There was no gentleness now and only urgency. Only the ache of two people who had waited too long and wanted too much. And only on a quick movement, Slasher took the annoying pieces of cloth that was in the way of that painfully bliss between them.
Both were breathless as their mouths separated, it was a very lewd view from how Slasher wet veiny shaft was already leaking precum just on the entrance of Guest; but there was no time to hold back down; as the brief moment of hesitation calmed down, he gently started to rub himself against Guest body who was shaking from the stimulation. Both were a painful mess of sweat, groaning over the skin to skin constantly contact due to Slasher humping on the other.
…
Then with a slight movement, the swollen head penetrated with a slow thrust that made them both whimper with a slight pain, thrusting slowly but with a certain urge to go deeper. Guest was holding himself to not moan, growling as he was feeling the slow pounding from Slasher on his own most sensitive spot, laying his head on his back, closing his eyes.
Slasher continued with a slow rhythm between Guest’s legs, holding those to have a more comfortable position, going deeper as he was getting further and effectively slipping in more than halfway. The guest cried out in a low tone but settled into acceptance. Jason struggled to keep himself from thrusting any further, unsure if it was normal to be amused by these sounds at all. It was overwhelming for him to feel every twitch of the guest's body through his most sensitive part.
-“Oh god…” muttered Guest on a soft euphoric groan, losing himself into all the sensations, letting them absorb him completely. He absently dug his nails into Slasher’s back in an attempt to keep himself in this position as Jason let out an enthusiastic whimper, sucking air through his teeth.
Slasher finally let himself go, picking up a faster rhythm grind punctuated by the guest's low but increasing moans, each one urging him to go further and further. And with a sudden movement, Guest let out a guttural moan, making him leak a lot of hot precum from his already pulsating member, which gave a rush of pleasure for both; it was a new sensation for him, like if Jason hit a very sweet spot inside him.
By now Guest wasn’t showing any signs of pain but relief and release, but the yearning for a grand finale was urgent for both, grinding and thrusting hard enough to make low obscene sounds of Slashers balls slapping against the bare skin of the other under him. The warm, sensitive walls of Guest felt way too good, and with urgency he moved his hips forward searching for a soon release; with a quick movement he pushed himself as deep as possible and with a guttural moan let his hot seed flow in Guest.
They both got as close as possible, shivering and with spasm due to the recent release of their loads. Jason hesitated for a moment before pulling out and, by doing that, letting his thick and steamy load overflow Guest's hole in a euphoric finale.
…
The room was quieter now, saved from the soft rhythm of their breathing and the distant hum of whatever horrors still churned outside their walls. But here, in this fragile pocket of warmth, the world had stilled.
Guest lay on his side; one arm draped loosely over Jason’s jacket which they didn’t take the effort to take off. His body ached not from exhaustion, but from the sheer intensity of what they’d just shared. It hadn’t been just physical. It had been a release, a surrender, a desperate claiming of something they’d both been too afraid to name.
Jason’s eyes were closed, his expression unreadable but softer than Guest had ever seen it. The mask was still off, forgotten somewhere in the sheets, and Guest couldn’t stop looking at him. Unarmored. His face full of scars and stitches told stories his silence never could: the tension in his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the way his lips moved for a second like he wanted to speak but didn’t know how.
-“You okay?”- Guest said hesitant, with a faint worry.
Jason nodded slowly, opening his eyes slightly to stare at the roof beneath them. He felt safe. They didn’t speak for a while after that. Words felt too small. Instead, they lay tangled together, skin against skin, breath syncing in quiet slow rhythm.
And Guest, for the first time in longer than he could remember being there, let himself believe it was real.