God, I was so bored and horny today. So I wrote this. There is more written, I just haven't gotten around to editing it all yet, but I thought I'd post this before turning in tonight. I have never attempted any MGS fanfiction yet, but I feel like I've read enough of it to want to put my own spin on things.

Of course, the characters don't belong to me, and I don't profit from the story, yadda yadda. This story contains graphic violence, sexual content, and abuse. But you know me; deep down inside, I do like happy endings, so stick around for a second part or so.

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Otacon sat with his fingers idly brushing the keys on his laptop. His eyes were on the digital clock, watching tiredly as 2:59 am turned to 3:00. He sighed, pushing the computer out of his lap and onto the coffee table, and slumped backward into the couch. His face was etched with worry. Snake still wasn't home yet.

Living with someone is always stressful, and when you add to that the fact that you and your roommate have a price on your heads, things can only get worse. Snake and Otacon had moved to this area a few months ago and they lived in secrecy for fear of being discovered by the Patriots. They were cooped up in their apartment twenty-four hours a day, although one of them would periodically leave to get groceries. Otherwise, they obsessed over finding the newest model of Metal Gear in development. Their information was concrete but scarce, the details confirming that the new REX model was in this area, but exactly where they had no idea.

Their temporary apartment was small and it seemed that the two were constantly stepping on each other's toes. Despite the fact that they were very close, much closer than mere friends, they were not above arguing over silly things. Lately, it seemed that when Snake was itching for attention, Otacon was enveloped in his work; by the time Otacon was ready for some play, Snake was either in the middle of exercise or fast asleep. If one or the other would make advances while his partner was busy, he would be met all too often with a flare of misplaced anger. Both of them were stressed out and were having a hard time dealing with it in this tiny apartment.

Earlier, when Snake had come up behind Otacon during his work and started to massage the smaller man's weary shoulders, the hacker had been on the verge of breaking into a heavily guarded database. Otacon became silently irritated, but he was too wrapped up in his work to even speak at that point. Snake leaned down very slowly, allowing his partner time to protest before he began hungrily kissing at his neck. Otacon's concentration broke immediately. His finger slipped and he hit the wrong key at just the right moment. His entire program quickly shut down on him.

He stared, agape, as three hours of work flashed away. Snake's assault on his neck was relentless.

"Dave, stop! What are you doing!?" Snake jumped back, surprised to hear the anger in his quiet lover's voice. He didn't get the chance to speak before Otacon continued, "Damn it, you have such a one-track mind! Now I've lost all that progress and I have to repeat three hours worth of work!"

"I'm sorry, Hal," Snake spoke, but his words feel on deaf ears. Otacon pushed his chair back and got up quickly, storming off into the kitchen. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing his eyes as he heaved a weary sigh. Snake stood still, watching him quietly for a moment, and for the millionth time that day he felt so useless.

Snake was a man of action. He was adept at planning sneaking missions, at carrying out impossible objectives, but he and Otacon were stuck in a rut at this point. Until they had a more exact location to work with, he had little more to do other than loaf around, read a bit, and stare at Otacon with wild hunger. The two had been lovers for some time now and this wasn't the first time Snake had been denied in favor of work. He had never seen Hal so annoyed, though. As he stood there contemplating his angry partner, his temper got the best of him.

Otacon emerged from the kitchen with a glass of juice, heading back toward his laptop, but he stopped as he saw Snake stride past.

"Dave?"

Snake had changed into jeans, a dark tight-fitting t-shirt, and a black jacket. He went straight for the door. Otacon glanced at the clock. It was already 9:30 pm.

"Dave, wait, where are you going?"

Snake opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, turning back toward Otacon to give him a smoldering glance. "Out," he growled, before pulling the door shut behind him.

At first, Otacon had been thankful that Snake had left. Maybe now he could get some work done. But as the hours wore on, as 3:00 am became 3:20, Otacon let worry take over. The Patriots were certainly hot on their tails, watching very closely for any suspicious activity. What if Snake had been spotted? What if he had been attacked? He knew that Snake could take care of himself, but the nagging "what ifs" had kept him up this late. As his pessimistic thoughts eroded his wakefulness, Otacon felt himself sinking deeper into the couch. His eyelids were so heavy, and it was so dark in here, so quiet. He closed his eyes – only for a second, he told himself – and tried to relax. Dave will be home soon, he told himself, and when he gets here I can apologize…

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Otacon woke with a start. He bolted upright on the couch, gasping slightly in shock. It was so dark in the apartment that he couldn't see his hands in front of his face. He groped around for his laptop and woke it from sleep mode. The screen was bright and he squinted for an instant, struggling to adjust.

The digital clock read 4:30 am. He had fallen asleep for a bit, apparently.

Otacon sighed, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. He was exhausted; his body ached for the comfort of his bed. Begrudgingly he stood, stretching out for a moment, but as he reached down to close his laptop a funny feeling, a tingling in his spine made him freeze. He suddenly became aware of another presence in the apartment.

Otacon was not alone.

An instant after he realized this, he was grabbed from behind. One arm was around his neck, another pinning his left arm to his waist. He cried out and struggled for an instant before he felt a brush of rough stubble against his cheek, recognized the contours of the muscular torso behind him. He relaxed slightly, his tone taking on a hint of annoyance as he realized that his panic was in vain.

"Hey, Snake, what's the big idea? You almost scared me to death!"

As he spoke, though, the arm at his neck tensed slightly. He held his breath for an instant as Snake leaned in closer to his face. He could almost taste the alcohol on Snake's breath. The laptop screen gave off very little blue light, but it shone on Snake's face just enough for Otacon to realize that this was not his friend Dave. Something had changed inside, had surfaced during the last several hours at the bar. He recognized the look in those angry eyes. When Otacon had first found Snake after the Shadow Moses incident, he had been in a sad state, trapped in a world of alcohol and depression. Since the two had begun working together, Snake had done his best to not drink. But tonight, he had been so angry that he couldn't help himself.

He snarled slightly down at Otacon, releasing his grip to allow the smaller man to speak. "Where is he?" the soldier growled.

Otacon swallowed hard. This wasn't Dave. This wasn't their apartment, either, at least not now. For a moment, Dave had gone back to Shadow Moses. For a moment, he once again became Solid Snake.

"Snake, stop this," Hal whispered, but in response he was throttled again, pulled so tightly against Snake's body that he feared he might be crushed. Snake jarred him slightly, adding to his panic by shaking him roughly around.

"Where is he!?" Snake roared, releasing Otacon's throat again, just enough so that he could speak.

The scientist coughed and gasped for air, struggling slightly as he began to panic. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he cried, his voice just about pleading. "Snake, let me go!"

The irate soldier mumbled something unintelligible as he began to move, awkwardly dragging Otacon along with him. He stumbled slightly, drunk as he was, as they moved into the kitchen. He thrust Otacon against the cabinets and slammed his head down onto the counter. Otacon's glasses fell to the floor as his face was smushed into the countertop. Snake leaned in so that their faces were inches apart, their bodies pressed together tightly, and Otacon realized with some alarm that Snake's erection was pressing against his back.

"Last chance," Snake hissed, an ugly snarl on his face. His words were drawn out, deliberate and enunciated. "Where is Liquid Snake?"

Otacon was weakly struggling, trying to get out from under Snake's grip. "Snake, he's dead! Please, let me go!"

Snake pressed heavily down on top of Otacon, his hot breath in the hacker's ear, his hips pressed firmly against Otacon's ass. For a moment, he paused as he realized how nice this felt to his throbbing erection. Instinctively his hips began to thrust, to rub his body against the smaller man's rear, creating irresistible friction between them. In his drunken state, Snake's mind was operating on completely selfish thoughts. Before Otacon could protest, he felt Snake's rough hands on his bare skin, pulling his shirt up over his head and hurriedly unbuckling his pants.

Otacon pushed upward, suddenly finding some strength as fear washed over him, but Snake was much stronger, much faster than him. He took Otacon's wrists and pinned his hands against the countertop, but the smaller man locked his elbows. Snake leaned heavily on his back, one hand straying from his victim and into his back pocket. His lips were so close to Otacon's ear that they brushed the sensitive skin as he threateningly whispered.

"If you make a sound or even move, I'll kill you."

A flash of silver caught Otacon's eye and he realized with some panic that Snake had pulled a knife out of his pocket. He rested that hand right next to Otacon's on the counter, letting the weapon be an ominous reminder of Snake's dominance in this situation. Otacon swallowed hard, realizing that Snake was much more volatile and unpredictable than he had originally thought. The hacker stood stalk still as he heard Snake unbuckling his pants with his free hand.

The feeling of Snake's hot erection against his cool skin made him tense, and he bit his lip to avoid moaning. If he wasn't so terrified he might enjoy this, too. But he was soon reminded that this wasn't his gentle Dave, his doting and patient lover. This was a trained killer, looming over him with dark intentions. Snake pushed against Otacon's entrance, unlubricated and insistent, and Otacon tilted his head back, emitting a soft whining sound. Snake's free hand was around his throat in a second, holding firmly without choking, just enough to be threatening. Snake released his knife and hastily spit into his hand a few times, working his own saliva over the head of his erection. He kicked Otacon's ankles, forcing his legs farther apart, giving him more room for entry. Once more he pushed against his victim's tight body, finally forcing his way in.

Otacon struggled to relax his body, to make this unwelcome act somewhat more comfortable, but it was useless. He felt as though he might split in half. As he opened his mouth to cry out, Snake tightened the hand around his neck in warning, and Otacon's voice died in his throat. Snake pushed in slowly at first, gliding in easily at the beginning, but he hadn't lubricated his entire length. When entry became more difficult he became impatient and forcibly jammed his entire length inside of his victim, who finally cried out in desperation.

Otacon's arms gave out and he collapsed onto the countertop, gasping in shock. Snake laid his torso down on top of Otacon's back, his face just next to the scientist's. Hungrily he began kissing and biting at his neck, not with the usual playful aggression of a passionate lover but with the wanton hunger of an animal. He did not start the act slowly but instead began humping Otacon dry, paying no mind to the strangled cries that would occasionally escape the smaller man's throat. Snake no longer seemed to care whether his victim let out whimpers or not. His concentration was on his erection, which was pounding mercilessly in and out of Otacon's tight body.

Otacon was trapped. He could not fight back. He could not reason with Snake; Otacon realized that he wasn't in his right mind. The man was not just violating him but hurting him. The Snake he knew would never do that. Otacon gritted his teeth and braced himself against the counter as he felt something warm trickling down between his thighs. Judging by the pain he felt with every rough thrust, he knew that it must be blood. Snake was driving Otacon's slender hips into the edge of the countertop and Snake's teeth and tongue greedily molested his neck. Otacon shivered as he wondered if his attacker might break the skin.

Snake lifted his head, propping himself up slightly, and Otacon could tell from the tone of his grunting that he was near the end. His pack quickened, his thrusts became rough and erratic, and Otacon freely cried out now, hoping that the volume of his own voice might drown out the pain. Snake thrust in deep, held it there for a moment, and then pulled himself all the way out. Otacon felt his warm seed spill out over his lower back, over his ass, and he silently thanked God that it was over. Snake stood over him for a moment, staring down at him in a drunken stupor, but Otacon remained still. He was playing "dead."

As Snake turned and stumbled off toward their bedroom, Otacon slowly sank to the floor. Everything ached, especially his heart, and he sat crumpled there for several minutes, trying to digest everything that had just happened. He heard Snake's body fall onto the mattress and, moments later, his rumbling snoring.

Otacon leaned his weary head against the cabinets and closed his eyes. Minutes later, he too was asleep.