A/N: Yaaay, I've been meaning to write something like this for a while now. :3 I do have a wonder though; I planned for this to be a one-shot, but I can see potential in lengthening it if preferred. I figured I might, but I'd like to get opinions. What do you guys think? ;o

The room had fallen into an uncomfortable silence, with Piers on one end of the couch while Chris was at the other. The sniper was tense, fuming, not even sure he'd heard everything properly-

"Look, I know what you're thinking and that's not the case," Chris had insisted, cutting off the thick air of nothingness. Piers had been watching him with a narrowed gaze, one hazel eye and one gray hue piercing accusingly in his direction.

Piers couldn't believe it, "It's a little convenient though, isn't it?" He was on his feet in an instant, never once tearing away his disapproving glare. "Just say it outright, Chris. The real reason." He knew what he was, knew the impact the virus still had on him. There were still scars, aching, throbbing scars that butchered the side of his face and made people often shy away from him at the sight, whereas his features before had been flawless. Irresistible, Chris had even said at one point. It was only logical that it was the true reasoning behind the decision.

Chris however, continued to deny that it was so. "Piers, stop it! It's been almost a month!" And many of those days had been spent at a damn hospital... "Don't you think I would have done this sooner, if that was the real reason?" Piers couldn't see it, but even though Chris had tried for all that time to be with him, ultimately, regret had won out. It was conflicting, knowing that Piers had done what he did all for him, to make sure he had a chance at survival. Yet, Chris hadn't been able to help him. He hadn't been able to protect Piers from his fate the way Piers had protected him.

"It works both ways, Chris! Why would you wait if it was so unbearable?" Piers shook his head as he took a step behind him, and the world began to fall to pieces bit by bit. "Forget it. Whatever your reasons are, the result isn't any different." He paused for a moment, mismatched eyes reflecting a combination of hurt and anger. "I guess it's a good thing we never moved in together like we planned. It saves me the trouble of having to pack everything up. Do what you want, Chris." Piers spun on a heel after that, no longer able to eye the older man. He just needed to get away.

"Piers, wait-" Chris had gotten to his feet, prepared to go after him.

"You got what you asked for, now let it go!" Piers called over his shoulder as the door slammed behind him, creating a physical barrier between the two men alongside the emotional one that had just been built. Piers had heard enough as he walked out into the night, with a pouring rain oozing down from the skies above to drench him. It was fitting, perfectly mimicking the way he felt as the cool air wafted over him against the clothes that clung to his skin from the wetness. It was freezing, but Piers was ice. He lacked the spark of flame he'd once carried with Chris, and the shivering solitude was unforgiving in the absence of the Captain he once adored. Anger did nothing to melt away the hurt or break the ice.

His legs carried him at an increased pace, boots splashed into small puddles with every taken step as the world sought to drown him in it, just like the ocean the day he had thrown his life away with the prick of a needle. Normally spiked strands drooped over mismatched eyes unattended, adding a light downward curl to the bangs under the weight of water. His head was dipped low, relying on sound to be his guide as he watched the moving ground beneath him with no intention of slowing. The last thing Piers has wanted was to risk Chris trying to catch up with some new excuse.

It wasn't until he was far enough away that he had dived into an alley with an outcry, the bottom of his boot collided with a dumpster, jarring as he combed his hands through his hair, collapsing his weight against the wall of some cheap hotel, back tight to the surface with his knees threatening to give out as they shook under him. He didn't even try to prevent it as he sunk into a sit, legs curled with his arms placed over them, head tilted back against the wall with his eyes closed. His breathing was ragged with heavy heaves of his chest cavity as his heart pounded up a storm to match the one that fell around his ears.

There was a quiet shuffle of movement somewhere to his side, and Piers didn't bother to turn. Not until he'd heard a soft snort followed by the sound of a voice, one he had never wanted to again. "Who kicked the puppy this time?" Piers felt his brow furrow as light footsteps edged closer from their previous position that had been deeper within the alley. He didn't question why the hell their owner was even there or how damn convenient everything seemed to be as the world sought to collapse around him, to ruin him.

Piers exhaled, "Not now, Jake." Light foot falls slowed to a halt, and Jake leaned a shoulder against the wall not far from him with arms woven around each other over the span of his chest. "Moping isn't really your thing," The comment had Piers opening his eyes with a glare. Something told him that Jake wasn't willing to listen and didn't plan on leaving him be. "Since when did you start caring?"

Jake shrugged a shoulder, "Never said I did, pup."

Right.

Piers scowled and averted his gaze, one green and one gray fell away to the opposite wall in front of him, head dipped just enough for the wet bangs to cast further shadows over his eyes, shielding them partially from view. It was better that way, he didn't need Jake seeing him hurt like that... Yet, the fact that Piers hadn't tried to argue like he used to already proved that something heavy weighed itself down over his shoulders.

"Don't tell me a little rain was enough to put out that fire of yours?" It didn't sound like Jake had any plan to go away soon.

Piers tensed his jaw, "Do you have a reason for being here?"

Jake pushed away from the wall to take another few steps closer, placing himself in front of Piers to block off his view of the wall he was so intent on staring at, which caused the ace to glance back up at him, lips lowered at their corners in a deep frown. He looked good like that, even with the scars that marred his features; pouting those plump tiers while his hair was wet and drooping out of place. "Yeah, it's called temporary residence," Jake motioned toward the front of the building through the passage that Piers had come from with a wave of an arm. "Unless you were broodin' too much to catch the sign on your way down here."

Piers shifted, stretching one of his legs out over the ground carelessly where it almost collided into Jake's, while his other one remained in a curl toward his chest, a hand on each knee. "It looks like a shithole." He commented sourly as the water pooled in around them, darkening his mood further. He was practically sitting in a puddle by now.

"You won't hear me denying that," It was true. The place was run down and small, but as Jake did say... It was temporary. "Doesn't mean it's not dry."

Piers raised an eyebrow, hardly seen under the tousled bangs, "Then why aren't you inside?"

Jake dropped himself down into a crouch, blue eyes intense under the limited light from the street outside the alley, "Could ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you be tailing after Redfield?" It was salt in the already throbbing wound, whether Jake realized it or not. Piers winced at his Captain's name, mismatched orbs sought to avert themselves again, but none of it went unnoticed. "Not tonight," Was all Piers had offered, only a half-lie. It would probably apply for the rest of his life, Chris had made sure of that the moment he said they were done.

Jake actually seemed to consider the words, sharp blue eyes watched over the ace intently in a silence that was ruined only by the sound of dropping water as the rain cascaded down their heads and over their shoulders. There was a soft shuffle as Jake shifted to his feet, and Piers did turn back to him then as he heard retreating footsteps head toward the front of the building. Jake paused at the exit to the alley with a glance over his shoulder, "You comin' puppy, or are you going to stay here hoping for a miracle?"

Piers stiffened at the offer, unsure of the real intention hidden behind it as he curiously eyed Jake from his position. He half expected Jake to turn and leave him there, but to his surprise, the former mercenary shook his head and started a pace headed back toward him. "For Christ's sake, get up." A strong grip clutched over the sniper's arm and practically dragged him to his feet with a strength he didn't think Jake had. Piers pulled his arm away the moment he was on his feet, allowing time for the two to share a glare; Jake's bore an annoyance, and Piers' was accusing. Neither one of them flinched or shied away, unsure of what the other wanted.

Piers suddenly felt even more cold. He didn't want to go back home.

Mismatched eyes pried themselves from blue with a sigh, "Fine." Piers uttered reluctantly, and that was all it took for Jake to turn back around and lead the way. Begrudgingly, Piers had followed behind, two sets of moving feet created soft splashes with every stride forward until they opened the door and went inside. Piers didn't know what the hell he'd just agreed to or why. He just wanted the day to end.

The elevator inside had been broken down for some time, leaving the two to climb the stairway toward whatever room Jake would lead them to. Neither one of them had yet to speak another word as they reached the proper floor and started a walk down the hall, and Piers slowed to a halt only when Jake had so that he could open the door. They slipped inside, shutting the barrier closed behind them before Jake stepped deeper into the small room, where he slid off his jacket and threw it into the bathroom off to the side. Piers wasn't far behind him, but hesitated to advance any further when Jake had started to shrug off the straps of his suspenders and tugged at his soaked shirt where it was then lifted over his head and kept firmly held in hand.

Up until then, Piers hadn't noticed just how well sculpted Jake was. They'd always been so much more focused on chewing each other's heads off, that he hadn't paid much attention to those aspects. Jake was solid and built well, though he still wasn't like Chris...

Piers looked away at that thought, swallowing down the lump that formed at the back of his throat as Jake turned around. "Don't just stand there. You're drippin' all across the floor," He chided, not that it was a huge concern to him considering the current state of the building anyway. But still, he'd rather not live in a wet hotel that would eventually mold, even if it was temporary. Jake disappeared into the bathroom to get rid of the damp shirt, only to reemerge barely a minute later with towels in hand, one of which he tossed toward the ace who caught it with ease. Piers set it down over a dresser temporarily so he could slide off his own jacket.

"Toss it all in the bathroom so they dry out," Jake instructed as he dropped into a sit in the single wooden chair, bending down to undo the laces of his boots. Piers paused, fingers hovering over his shirt. The scars were large in number, and they scaled all down his side from where his arm had mutated previously. A sudden overwhelming feeling of discomfort rushed over him, and his hand dropped back to his side. "This is a bad idea," Staying there, with Jake. They never got along, never trusted one another. All they ever did was fight and argue, so how they even allowed themselves into their current predicament was an unknown thing.

Jake snorted from his position as he kicked off his boots and socks, "A little late for second thoughts." No, but it wasn't! Piers kept his jacket in hand and turned toward the door, "Look, I shouldn't be here." He was quick in his movements as his legs guided him barely a few feet away to the exit. With an arm outstretched to twist the knob and open the door, he had every intention of leaving until a hand reached around him and pressed firmly over the surface to prevent it. Piers narrowed his eyes and spun around to argue, only to pause as he faced the other man, open mouthed, when he found himself with limited room trapped in between Jake and the door, only mere inches separating him from both.

"You're already here. Wandering aimlessly won't do you much good."

Piers was tense, wondering why any of it had even mattered to Jake to begin with. "What do you even want?" He questioned, curiosity lining his tone. Piers found his back flush against the door as Jake moved closer, blue eyes considering. His free hand raised, and Piers watched it with widening eyes as it brushed over his drooping bangs, lifting them out of the way to show the full extent of scars running over the side of his face. It had been severe, trailing down from his hair line to be hidden away under the scarf around his neck and the shirt he'd yet to remove. The wounds and mutation had cut deep, tearing gaping holes all down to his waist.

"Jake, stop-" Piers didn't even pretend that he wasn't unhappy with what the C-Virus had done to him, he never tried to hide away the shame or disgust at the marks it had left over him. But the hand in his hair slid in deeper, tugging at the locks until his head tipped upward where intense blue analyzed him thoroughly. Piers hated it. He hated being watched so closely when he knew what he looked like. Piers opened his mouth again to speak, only to have another pair of lips descend over his own and hush away his complaint.

Piers stiffened against the door, unsure. Surprised. A tongue managed to slip through his parted tiers to flick over his own, and damn it if Jake didn't taste good. Mismatched eyes fluttered to a close. In his overbearing sense of hurt, Piers saw it as a way to start anew and wipe away his ties to Chris as he responded, allowing their tongues to mingle in an exploring dance while his jacket slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, ignored. Piers had no illusions; Jake was an asshole, an untrustworthy man who would kill for cash. Yet, he had changed, hadn't he? Sherry had influenced him over the span of their journey, helped him step onto a path different than his father's. He was still blunt and crude, but no longer the antagonist he was taught to be.

Jake wasn't judging him, either.

He had looked straight into mismatched eyes, he had gazed over torn and mangled skin, and still Jake had been the one to dive in, to start something neither one of them had ever foreseen.

Piers felt the fingers in his hair fall away, where they trailed down the side of his face over the dips of scars and paused to rub over each one. The kiss turned messy, the audible sound of smacking lips as they devoured one another filled the room while his scarf was pulled loose and dropped to the side. A leg slid between both of his own, edging them apart as the digits Jake had along the scars began to lower themselves further, tracing the outline of still clothed chest muscles and abdominals until they reached the bottom of the sniper's shirt where they tugged insistently.

Piers shot out a hand that caught Jake at the wrist, turning his head so their lips had parted. It was wrong, all wrong. No one had ever seen his body, not even Chris, after... After China. The scars had run deep and their numbers were large. "Jake, wait." He insisted, breathing hard from the lack of oxygen presented to him through the kiss. "We shouldn't-" The leg between his own lifted, nudging into his groin with a knee, causing his sentence to cut itself off with a gasp. "It's not right." They didn't even like each other, especially after Jake had dared to point a gun toward his Captain.

Chris. Everything always came back to him.

"I was a mercenary," Jake started to say, and Piers glanced back into piercing blue eyes. "I'm used to not doing the right thing." Those lips were back over his own, preventing him from uttering a reply as Jake continued, words spoken against Piers' open mouth, "Give it a chance, puppy. It'll help you forget."

Forget what?

Forget Chris?

Jake was watching him again, waiting for an answer as Piers considered what he'd said. Recent events with Chris were still painful to think about, they haunted him non-stop ever since he'd ran out the door into the storm outside. He wanted to forget how much it hurt.

Piers loosened his grip, hand retracting from the one pulling at his shirt. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Jake lifted the fabric until it was tugged free over the ace's head, and he let it drop to the floor in a heap next to the fallen jacket, no longer caring about the water dripping from the clothing that seeped through the carpet. Sharp blue eyes scaled over the span of ruined flesh, shredded and torn into grotesque scars. It showed who Piers was now, part of what he had become. That didn't make it any less shameful for the sniper, who still refused to look back at the other man. Nowadays, all it had taken was a single look from strangers and they viewed him as some sickly, deformed mutant. It was what he'd felt like, certainly.

The silence was unsettling, up until Piers had felt a heated mouth over a scarred pectoral, sucking at the uneven skin and the fleshy nub. He inhaled sharply in surprise, now unable to resist the temptation of staring down at Jake as he tugged the hardened, discolored bulb between his teeth. A skilled hand lowered itself, rubbing at the growing bulge Piers was sprouting in his fatigues to aid in hardening it further. "Ngh... Jake-" Piers had never been on the receiving end, not when he had taken special care to look after his beloved Captain.

Perhaps it was better that way.

In a second, that wonderful mouth and the teasing hand that stroked him to fullness; both of them had been removed. Piers had to catch himself as a whine built up in his throat, and he cut the sound off before it was fully released. Mismatched eyes blinked, confused. He hardly had the chance to open his mouth before a hand tugged at his arm, nearly knocking him off his feet at suddenness of the act as he was guided toward the bed and shoved down onto it. Jake had a roughness to him, but nothing like Piers had witnessed back in the underwater facility, and before that, even in Edonia. It was almost conflicting how much things had changed.

Piers had been so caught up in the thought that his mind barely registered the removal of his own boots and socks, up until a hand was undoing his belt buckle. Piers pushed himself up on his elbows, his legs partially dangling over the end up the bed as he watched Jake tug at his bottoms, pulling them down to drop them to the floor with the rest of their clothes, carelessly left scattered around the carpet. It wasn't a concern any more.

To say that Piers felt exposed was an understatement. It was one thing if it had been with Chris, before... Back when they were still together. But Jake was something new, someone who he thought he hated. To allow him access to his most tender areas, completely naked in front of a man who had previously been seen as a potential threat... Well, he was taking a lot of chances. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if his flesh wasn't a ruined mess, and yet Jake had already seen it but didn't care. That in itself helped to calm him as Jake started to reach for his own buckle, where his pants were slid down sculpted thighs into another wet mess on the ground. He stepped out of the fabric still caught around his ankles to dip one knee at a time into the mattress, practically straddling the sniper.

Jake made a move to try and rotate Piers over and onto his stomach, but the sniper caught his hand again. "Wait! I've never actually..." Bottomed. Things had been so different with Chris. Piers wasn't sure how to word it to a man like Jake, however.

Jake paused at that, thoughtful as he eyed the sniper. "So, you and Redfield..."

Piers nodded, "I took care of him. Or tried to." Up until he was kicked to the curb, so to speak. Piers still loved his Captain, but damn it if he wasn't upset with the older man.

"Right," Jake drawled, taking note of the hint, catching on to the fact that Piers didn't have much experience being at the receiving end of things. "Shoulda known that the day you had a gun to my head," Jake gave a small shrug of a single shoulder. "Sacrificing the world for one guy? Had to be someone important." If Piers had pulled the trigger... Jake was right. What stood as the closest thing they could make to a cure would have been destroyed.

For what? Loyalty? Love?

But Piers would have done it. He would have jeopardized the world for one single man that he had yet to let go of. "Don't expect an apology," Piers had no regrets, even now.

Above him, Jake snorted. Seemingly unconcerned. "I wouldn't want you to get too soft, puppy." Apologies were unnecessary things. The past was the past. "But we're not done here, yet."

Piers hesitated, mismatched eyes locking briefly to blue. Jake wasn't quite so patient, and in an instant he had reached down to flip the sniper onto his stomach underneath him. Piers threw a sharp glare over his shoulder, but voiced no complaints as three fingers nudged against his plump lips. Piers opened them, allowing the long digits to slip inside the moist orifice where they were drenched in slick saliva, rotating to gather up enough of it that could act as a sufficient means of lubrication. Jake retracted his hand, fingers slipping loose with a soft pop before they were relocated to the virgin sphincter, rubbing along the edges of the twitching hole. "You know..." Jake started to comment as a single digit slid inside to flick against the inner walls. Piers inhaled under him, head tilted slightly to show that he was listening. "I could have just taken you." Jake admitted, suggesting that the use of preparation was solely for the ace's sake.

Piers hissed as another finger entered beside the last, rummaging through his insides as they scissored the ring of muscle. "Now who's getting soft?" A third finger was inserted a bit earlier than he was prepared for, causing the ace to gasp. The feeling was unknown, uncomfortable. His bottom tier curved inward, tugged between his teeth.

Jake eyed him with a slight narrow to his gaze, "We still haven't gotten to the hard part yet, pup. Don't make me change my mind." He warned, making Piers honestly wonder how true the threat was as those fingers curled into the tender opening, buried in to the knuckles. Jake allowed them to give one last thrust before they retracted, pulling loose a deep exhale from the sniper. Jake adjusted himself on the mattress, and Piers felt something new press against his sphincter. Although Piers had never been on the receiving end, he already knew it would hurt and fully expected as much from taking care of Chris, to the common knowledge of anal practice. But even with both of those, nothing would have prepared him accordingly for the sudden pressure that eased into his rectum.

Nimble fingers curled around fistfuls of the bed sheets, clutching the fabric tight in an iron grip as pearly whites clenched down over each other. Piers instinctively tensed and a sudden cry made itself known from the depths of his throat. Jake actually took the time to pause as his cock head slipped through, allowing skilled hands to roam over the sniper's back, brushing over both soft and scarred skin as they lowered to knead the bubbled rump. "Tensing up like that... It'll only make things worse," Jake insisted, his own teeth firmly clenched while the walls tightened in around him as he slowly nudged himself in further, causing louder cries to sound from the sniper.

Piers reached behind him with his right arm without even realizing it, scarred hand gripped a hold over Jake's hip to ease him in slower until the invading length was buried in as deep as it could go. "Fuck!" The sniper hissed, peering over his shoulder with a steel colored eye as he reflexively rotated, causing the girth to nudge against his inner walls and stretch at the ring of muscle.

Jake grabbed him by his own hips, holding tight so the ace wouldn't squirm anymore. "Stop... Agh, moving so much!" Piers twitched under him, no where near relaxed as he was filled far past his limit. It hurt and throbbed, the constant pulse from the aching length inside of him did nothing to ease the feeling. Piers was starting to regret giving in to the idea... He wasn't making it any easier on himself. "Nngh... It's not-... Ahh, pull it out, Jake!"

Jake grunted above him, "I wouldn't have to if you would just relax!" But Piers was insistent, trying to move again and refusing to hold still. "Nngh, damn it, I told you to- Mmf! Mmnngh," A hand enclosed itself over plump lips to hush away the whining complaints. By that point, Jake couldn't hurt Piers any more than he was hurting himself. The sniper was anything but amused as his hand retracted from Jake's hip to clutch at the one over his mouth, yet it refused to budge. Piers was intent on causing things to be much harder than they had to.

Jake withdrew, pulling himself out to the tip, "Always gotta make things difficult," He gave a barely noticeable shake of the head before he brought his hips forward into the heated channel, causing a string of muffled obscenities to release themselves against his palm. Piers squirmed underneath him, using his opposite hand to try and push himself up and scramble away. Irritated, Jake clasped a hold of the limb at the wrist and twisted it behind the sniper's back, pulling his other hand away from Piers' mouth long enough to yank his right arm back with the first, clutching them both in his left grip.

"Ngh, Jake! Stop it! You son of a- Mmph, mmn... Mmf!" Jake clamped his right palm back into its previous position and leaned himself forward to the sniper's ear, even as his hips pulled back just to thrust in again, driving the pulsing rod inside the clenching orifice. "I told you to calm down... If you did that, this wouldn't be so bad." Piers eyed him over his shoulder with a muffled response, arms tugging against the hand that held them by their wrists. Jake was stronger than he looked. "Now, I just gotta find the-" His hips collided again with bubbled cheeks, and Piers jerked with a suddenness under him that nearly had Jake lose his hold. The throaty complaints died off into a muffled moan, and Jake could feel the ace shudder beneath him. "Just what I was lookin' for." Jake retracted his hand from Piers' mouth to reposition it over his hip, withdrawing from the clenching sphincter only to plunge himself back in, aiming his cock back toward that sweet cluster of nerves inside.

Hazel and gray fluttered, rolling to the back of his head as Piers mewled under the stimulation that seemed to eat away at the pain. His muscles started to ease into relaxing, tensing only when the prick inside him brushed against his prostate. He groaned, "You're an asshole, Jake." Piers yelped at a particularly deep thrust, hands clenching in their trapped position at his back. "Tell me that again when you're not enjoying me using yours," Jake breathed into his ear with another collision of their hips, smacking skin on skin with each penetrating movement. The sudden increase in pace choked away any argument that Piers may have mustered in the form of soft whimpers and lengthy moans mixed together in a beautiful iteration.

Every deepened plunge inside had the throbbing cock head brushing up against that sweet bundle, turning the sniper into a panting, sweaty mess as he was pounded into with thick meat. Jake had his teeth bared above, light grunts managed to slip through with every jerk of his hips that had tight walls swallowing his shaft snugly. Piers felt good around him, those soft cries as he was continuously impaled only served to drive Jake on.

On a sudden impulse, Jake pulled himself out. Before the ace hardly had time to register what he was doing, Jake's hands released their grip and flipped Piers back over. Jake adjusted himself to slide those long legs out from under him where they were forced open and into curls, out of the way so he could realign himself with the puckered entry. This time there was no hesitation as his cock slipped inside, penetrating the sphincter with much more ease as he dived forward over the sniper, their lips a sudden mesh of flapping tissue dampened by their own saliva as their mouths were devoured by one another, hushing away their sounds into light muffles as Jake renewed his rhythm.

With his hands now free, Piers wove his arms around the pale back, fingers balled into fists along Jake's spine with an added pressure to the skin that pulled him closer. He squirmed under each thrust forward, wriggling his hips against the invading girth to add more friction. Above him, Jake responded with a groan and a hand that reached for the sniper's hair, tugging at the locks where he parted their lips so that Piers' neck was left exposed for ravishing. His other hand lowered itself, long fingers curled over the weeping length trapped between them and started to pump, causing a lengthy chain of beautiful moans to resound in reply at the treatment. Jake traced along the ridges of each scar with his tongue, lapping at the sickly torn skin as his hips drove forward into tight heat. Piers clutched him close at the feeling of a build up, full lips parted and his back arched from the multiple sensations.

"Nnng, Jake... I-" Another thrust against his prostate had the words dying on his lips. "Let it out, puppy." Jake whispered breathlessly against his marred flesh, feeling his own release closing in. Deft hands unfolded from their previously balled fists to seek out firm shoulders where nimble fingers clamped over the skin, nails unintentionally clawing into flesh as Piers tensed, body so close to being taken over the edge. From the mixture of the pumping hand over his cock urging Piers on, to the thick girth pulsing against his walls in an even further increased pace had him openly screaming as his cock twitched, balls tightening to ejaculate the build up. Ropes of jism leaked freely from his tip, jetting outward over the hand working him where it oozed across their stomachs.

Jake groaned at the sudden tightness around his prick, acting as a vacuum that forced him into following shortly behind the sniper as the dark channel clenched over him, milking him with every thrust into the heated orifice that gobbled up his cum. Jake didn't stop until he shot every last squirt of white, then collapsed against the body below him, both of them breathing in hard pants as they came down from their temporary high.

Mismatched eyes fluttered, blurred from the overdrive Piers' body had been sent into. He swallowed, clearing his mouth of extra saliva as his chest heaved. "Did we really just...?" He was still having trouble believing it. Jake gave a half-smirk against the side of his neck, still buried inside the sniper. "This feel like a dream to you?" He rotated his hips, causing the sniper to visibly shudder beneath him as he pulled himself out and rolled off to the side. Piers groaned, "Dreams don't feel this good." The words came out before he'd even realized it, but by then he was too content with the situation to care.

Jake snorted softly beside him, and a sudden warmth over his chest had him turning his gaze to see Piers situating his head against him like a human pillow. He snaked an arm around the ace, a means of keeping him close as intense blue drooped shut. The ache in his shoulders from nails digging in was little more than a dull sting, wiped away by the pressure over him, the soft breaths that fell from those plump lips that had fit so well against his own.

"Jake?" An inquiring hum sounded in reply after the spoken name. The sniper lifted a hand, placing it atop the chest his head rested on to trace soft rhythmic circles over pale flesh. "It worked." There was only the moment, only the two of them. No past worries, no sadness.

No yearning for Chris.

The arm around Piers tightened, but Jake didn't speak. Neither one of them dared to fill the gap of silence, and sleep eventually took its hold.

A new day.

That meant it was back to work, back to base.

Back to Chris.

Now thinking with clarity in the absence of pleasant distractions, Piers had realized that he still missed the older man, but Jake had offered new options. Maybe it was better that way, or maybe Piers was just trying to hide the ache.

Chris had caught him on the way in, even asked him to his office. Piers hesitated at first, thinking it wasn't the best idea although he inevitably resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to avoid talking to his Captain forever, especially at base. Outside the job wouldn't be a problem, but on it... If Chris had wanted something, he'd be damn sure it got through to Piers.

The ace shut the door behind him on their way in, features stoic even as he felt uncomfortable under his Captain's gaze. "You took off pretty quick last night," Of course Chris would bring that up again.

Piers sighed, he knew where the conversation was going. "You could have followed if you really wanted me to stop."

Chris leaned back against his desk, half sitting on it with impressively muscled arms folded. "Considering the circumstances, I don't think you would have even if I had." True enough, "So, you tell me. Would you have preferred it that way?" Preferred Chris to be there, making excuses as they trudged through the rain where he would have guided Piers back to his own home, his own bed-

Away from Jake.

"No," Piers spoke up, hazel eyes unwavering as they met brown. Chris seemed to hesitate at that, but Piers didn't give him a chance to say anything about it before he continued, "I think things worked out just fine the way they were." That had Chris furrowing his brow, visibly confused... Possibly even a tad bit hurt. He was the one who brought their current predicament into play, it served him right. "Was there a reason you asked me here, Captain?" Straight down to business.

Piers had taken the situation much more lightly than the day prior... At the least, that was what Chris had thought from the way the sniper acted. Chris had honestly expected another argument, more hurt and blame to be thrown around... He wasn't sure that things were better off how they were. "We still have a job, Piers." He started, trying to keep his tone leveled, "I want to know if we'll be okay to see it through. That what happened last night... Won't interfere with our work."

The reply had come out almost too quickly, "It won't be a problem, Captain."

"...That's good to hear." Not entirely true. Chris knew Piers, knew that he fought hard for the things he wanted. Him being so agreeable seemed almost out of character... Or at the least, it was a very, very bad sign.

Chris pushed himself off the desk to take a few steps closer, until his legs had guided him to a halt in front of the ace where a hand was lifted to his scarred cheek. Mismatched eyes averted at that, lowering themselves down to the length of the floor, and Piers tilted his head away from the gloved palm.

Chris let his arm fall back to his side, "It had nothing to do with you, Piers. I meant that." He insisted, but when Piers refused to meet his gaze, Chris backed himself up. "You can go," But he hadn't really wanted him to, even after their discussion the other night. Chris had hoped Piers would be able to move on and find someone who could take better care of him, as Piers had always done for Chris. That didn't mean he liked the idea, and it didn't mean he no longer cared about the sniper.

Just like that, Piers was gone again.

Chris collapsed back into his chair. Things would only become more difficult.

By the end of the day, Chris had been right.

Piers had avoided him to the best of his ability, yet when approached, he would act as though nothing had happened between them. No more arguments, no more blame.

No more desire to make a broken relationship whole again.

It didn't make sense compared to how Piers had acted the night prior. It was as though it was something of the far past, that their break-up hadn't come only a day before. Piers hadn't acted any different, and up until Chris was on route to the locker room fully prepared to grab his things and return home, he didn't know why.

First it was the sounds that Chris had heard as he approached. The soft clitter of a closing locker, followed by a thud as a body hit against it. Then the voices... The voices that nearly had him shouting out his lungs.

"Nngh, we're taking a lot of chances doing this here..." Raspy, panting. It was Piers, his Piers.

There was a short laugh, familiar. It had his hands balling into fists, "I thought you liked taking risks?"

"I'd rather not lose my job, Jake."

"Heh... You won't, puppy. Long as you don't scream."

It was wrong, all of it. Someone better was not Jake Muller. The kid was trouble... Not to mention how Chris had been so sure that Piers had already despised him! How did they even-? Did Chris make Piers that desperate? Was it his own fault?

A sudden yelp from his former lover erased his thought process as it lengthened into a moan that breathed out Jake's name. Chris felt his heart throb against his chest; bleeding, aching. What had he done?

Chris had to know, had to find out if it was real, if he really had fucked things up so bad that-

He rounded the corner, as silent as he could be, to a sight that made him unable to breathe.

Piers was lifted against a locker, those long legs of his wrapped firmly around Muller's waist as powerful hips set themselves in motion, plunging into what had once belonged to Chris. Piers had his head tilted back into the metal, precious gems of hazel and gray shut closed with plump lips parted to release breathy moans after every dip of the invading length into his twitching channel.

Jake had his mouth latched to that exposed neck, leaving marks on something he had no right to, body thrusting itself upward into welcoming heat. His palms held firm handfuls of the perfectly formed ass that his cock was currently exploring, keeping the sniper in place as he filled him full of throbbing meat. Piers had woven his arms around Jake's shoulders for support, one hand at the back of his head to push that mouth tighter against the flesh of his throat as he openly mewled in pleasure.

Chris had seen enough, and the world caved in around his shoulders as he carelessly tossed his silence aside with heavy footsteps that guided him out the door, which he slammed upon exiting, causing two pairs of eyes to raise toward the noise as he retreated.

Chris had done this. He was responsible.

That knowledge had torn him in a dozen different ways.