Elevation

An Addiction

"Mmm. Wonder if ol' York tried givin' Miz Wash another south-side swallow yet..."

Samael grinned at the thought, a wistful expression pairing neatly with his gleaming teeth. The rather fruitful lesson with York on that island was still fresh in his memories, and it was hard not to imagine his giant pal propositioning Wash to try out another blowjob on him. It was a pretty hot scenario to ponder...goddamn, but those two made for a sexy duo.

Samael wondered if anyone ever thought of him and Andee the same way. Heh, probably not, considering the whispers he'd heard around Sidewinder and L-Base lately. Well, at least some of the bats seemed less uncomfortable with the coupling.

Some of them, anyway.

"Wh-what did you say?!"

A smaller smile slipped into place as Samael glanced over at the bewildered face peering up at him from the access hatch. It would be disingenuous to forget that, just like the bats, his fellow rebels couldn't all be lumped into a single category. Not everyone was so quick to judge.

"Heh, ain't nothin' but some redneck ramblin'," Samael drawled easily before reaching down to tousle the dark bangs that poked free of his companion's hooded sweatshirt. "How's it comin', Vinny? You got all the things hooked up to the other things?"

The handsome rookie scowled briefly, offering a flash of his oft-hidden perfectionist streak. Something he no doubt had inherited from his mother. "I...I don't know!" The slam of a distant door made Vincent's eyes shoot wide as he whipped his head around, his usual timid nature racing back to his youthful features. "Oh...oh gosh! Sammy...I...I don't know if this was the best mission to have me do this by myself!"

A muffled alarm began to blare a few seconds later from behind the concrete walls, and Vincent shrunk while instinctively yanking on the strings of his hoodie to partially obscure his panicked expression. "Oh no!"

Samael, however, only chuckled from his reclined position above the floor hatch, propping his head up with an elbow as he let his tail flop leisurely into the passage with a soft tinkle. "Awww, whatcha talkin' about, hon? Best way to learn's by jumpin' out the pan into the deep-fryer! Or however that sayin' goes..."

He picked at his teeth thoughtfully as Vincent stared up at him, then wailed with more than a hint of frustration: "Samael! I don't wanna jump in the deep-fryer!"

"Shit is purdy toasty," Samael remarked before he winked and swung his legs around with a grunt, then hopped down into the hatch to land heavily next to Vincent. He didn't miss a beat as he sidled up against the slender rebel's backside, slipping one muscular arm around his waist as he poked his head up beneath the taller chupa's sleeve. "Mmmm, but not as toasty as things in here!"

He delighted in the helpless shiver that raced down Vincent's spine, making no attempt to hide his buoyant grin as he squinted at the mess of cables. "S-Samael!"

The squeak danced the line between protest and pleasure, Vincent's sleek frame firing on all cylinders; Samael didn't bother to ease back the throttle, grinding his hips into the back of Vincent's thigh while his eyes roved along the dusty communication panels. "Hmmmmm...looks good, looks good -- Trevor might have some words for you since you ain't bundled these cables all proper-like..."

Samael's grin only spread further as he spotted the rookie's singular mistake, headbutting Vincent's arm to get his attention and reaching up to pluck a cable from its socket. "Almost perfect, hon! This here's an old junction, though, so ya gotta route the backup line..." He felt Vincent's eyes focus on his hand despite the confused shouting that inched closer to their door. "...Right o'er here to the shortwave. That'll put 'em on a closed loop they ain't gonna notice for at least a week!"

He felt the hesitant burst of pride from his companion, which was even more enjoyable than his earlier shudder. "O-oh...that was the only problem?"

"Sure was!" Samael chirped before he spun around to Vincent's front, grabbing his hoodie strings and pulling his head down so their muzzles bumped end-to-end. "Toldja you had this." He savored the way those big auburn eyes widened with a maelstrom of emotions, offering a generous wink and then planting a sloppy lick across the front of Vincent's snout. "Now let's get the fuck outta here 'fore they figure out what we was doin'!"

Vincent wrinkled his muzzle but looked more embarrassed than anything else as he squeezed his shoulders together and gave a sheepish smile of his own. "Y-yeah, that's probably a good idea." He paused, then produced a braver grin while closing a hand around Samael's side. "I wouldn't want to get you all riled up while we're still on the job."

A bright laugh erupted from the stocky rebel and he beamed up at the rookie with no small measure of elation. "Sheeeeeit, you act like I couldn't convince some random minuteman who came runnin' in on us mid-bone to join on in!" He chortled as he moved past Vincent, dragging his tail playfully across his companion's waist and then swiftly hefting himself up and out of the hatch.

"Oh yeah? Well...what if it was a minutewoman?" Vincent fired back.

Samael grinned again, reaching down as Vincent gripped into his offered forearm. "That's why I brought you along, silly," he replied teasingly before yanking the skinny chupa up from the access area and kicking the cover shut. "Don't think I ain't seen you makin' li'l Miss Rosemary all a-flutter back at base!"

Vincent huffed, but the half-smile curling around his muzzle was hardly a denial. It was kinda nice to know Samael wasn't the only one providing a little heat within Sidewinder's icy walls. "H-hey, you were the one who said it was important to forge intimate, emotional bonds within the community!"

"Hell, like my dumb redneck ass ever said no words purdy as them," Samael retorted, even as he hip-checked his fellow rebel. "Besides, it sound like I'm complainin'? If Nelson ain't hollerin' at you for over-fraternizin', then you ain't doin' the Movement no justice!"

Vincent gave another dumb smile before wincing as someone began to pound on the door to the communication room. "Oh shit!" he uttered as he started to draw the pistol tucked into the small of his back.

Samael half-smiled in return as the faces from Highguard whisked past. His arm was long out of the cast -- hell, he was practically back to a hundred-percent, if his little excursion to the island with York was any indication -- and the mission should have been a distant memory at this point. A week within the suicidal confines of Sirca's rebellion might as well have been half a lifetime, all things considered.

But some memories didn't fade so easily, and the cold-hearted dedication in North's name still left a small pit in Samael's stomach. Perhaps applying himself to more heated physical pursuits would help continue to ease the guilt...but maybe avoiding a few more unnecessary deaths would do the same, too.

"Heh, this job's been goin' swell so far -- ain't no reason to get things messy now," Samael explained as he half-led, half-pulled Vincent toward the narrow windows positioned near the ceiling of the dusty room. "C'mon, I'll give ya a boost, we c'n get outta here nice 'n clean!"

Vincent frowned down at him before glancing up at the compact window frames. "I...I dunno, they don't look big enough for us bo--"

"Aw, c'mon, ya know by now how good I am at fittin' into tight spaces!" Samael interrupted cheerfully, dropping to a knee and forcing one of Vincent's paws off the ground to guide it toward a broad shoulder. "No time to argue 'bout how nice 'n plump this redneck ass is!"

He could hear the concern in Vincent's whimper, but felt the young rebel acquiesce through his motions as he clambered onto Samael's shoulders. "Okay. I should be able to pull you up...just a sec..."

Samael expressed a lack of concern even as the pounding at the door became more intense. "Yep, jus' get that winder open, sweetie..." he drawled, glancing over his shoulder and then smiling encouragingly up as Vincent struggled to pry open the dingy window. "I'm right behind ya."

Vincent succeeded a second or two later, letting out a soft whoop and then promptly sneezing when he inhaled the puff of dust. "Okay, got it!"

Samael grunted and reached up to grasp the bottom of Vincent's paws, smiling slightly as he recalled the last time he'd done this -- it had been with York at that Cleric's house. At least the emotional wound from that day had mostly closed up by now. "A'right, up ya go!" he whispered as his powerful arms flexed and lifted the tall but lightweight chupa higher against the wall.

He cast another calm look at the door as Vincent scrambled over the rough wall and then squeezed halfway through the window. "Oh...oh geez, it's really snug! Are you sure you're gonna fit??" He turned his head and stretched an arm down, then blinked in surprise as Samael grasped not into his wrist but instead placed a palm against his torso. "S-Sammy?"

"Go get the truck, hon, bring it 'round front, I'll take care'a this!"

"Sammy, wait!"

Samael swallowed the burst of guilt as he tipped his head apologetically. "I'll be out in two shakes, promise! Leave this dance number to me." He grimaced, then reached up to force Vincent's arm against his side before giving his companion a firm shove.

"Samae--!!"

Vincent's protest was tinged with genuine anger that Samael did his best to ignore. Little bit easier when it was cut off by the window slamming shut and Vincent -- hopefully -- landing safely out of harm's way outside.

Vincent's body was still a smooth canvas, free of the patchwork of scars that decorated the Yorks and the Norths and the Samaels of the ring. And even if his upbringing with the hoop hadn't left his soul so untarnished, there was no reason to add any new blemishes to the guy, physical or otherwise.

That's what the Yorks and the Norths and the Samaels of the ring were for.

Samael turned around to face the door, rolling his head across his shoulders and bouncing a few times on his paws. This town wasn't quite as large or extravagant as the city where he and Andee had wreaked havoc -- these local militia members wouldn't be as well-equipped or well-trained.

...Probably.

His eyes locked onto a thick timber propped against the corner of the dim room. The town's maintenance crew probably used it to hold the door open on hotter days while they ran checks on the equipment.

Always make use of the tools yer provided...

He grinned and wrapped his fingers around it as a second voice joined the furious shouting behind the door, their collective battering rattling the rusted frame. "Show time," he whispered brightly to himself as he hefted up the chunk of wood, then loosed a wild screech as he swung the improvised weapon into the nearest generator. "This is fer you, Sirca!!" he cried out at the top of his lungs. "All this technology's gotta go!"

"...Oh god, this guy's insane, get the door open!"

Samael smirked and continued his inarticulate whooping while smashing the timber into another panel to send sparks dancing across his muscular frame. "We ain't need no fancy radios, all we gotta do is pray!" he wailed before beating the club madly against a cooling fan that emitted a series of metallic squeals.

The door at last burst open as two partially-armored chupas stumbled into the communication closet with matching shouts. Samael produced his best unhinged grin, though he nearly choked on a snort when he realized one of the militia members was, in fact, a female.

Maybe he should have let Vincent stay.

"Y'all can't keep meltin' our brains with yer heretical hocus-pocus hotwirin'!" Samael protested as his eyes flicked between the two. The guy was already reaching for his sidearm while the female raised both hands with a grimace. "Mother Sirca is the only voice I need in my head!!"

"She's about to see the inside of it," the male chupa muttered as he gripped his pistol.

"Hold on -- we should bring him in," his partner replied before glaring down at Samael. "Put down the weapon!"

Samael flashed a maniacal grin as he brandished the club. "Not 'til I bust up e'rythin' in this house of heresy!"

"It's just a fucking train station, jackass!" the minuteman growled. "I'm putting his ass down!" he added, yanking the handgun from its holster.

But Samael was faster, closing the distance rapidly as he slammed the end of the timber into the guy's stomach. The armor reduced some of the impact, though the rebel's strength was still enough to elicit a shocked gasp as the guard bent forward in surprise. The pistol dropped from his grip and Samael quickly slid a paw around to kick it away.

"Oh shit!" the female muttered, drawing Samael's attention. "Screw this!" She reached over a shoulder for her shotgun and Samael twisted on his heel, adding extra momentum to a bash into the woman's side with the wooden plank. A pained wheeze rushed from her muzzle as she slammed against the opposite wall, giving Samael a chance to turn his eyes back to the first militia member.

The rebel blinked, barely lifting the timber in time to block a vicious strike from the hefty truncheon the guy had yanked off his hip. "Yer gonna make the big cat upstairs real mad tryna get a sneak-shot in on her blessed kitten!" Samael yowled, shoving aside the nightstick and rearing back with the piece of wood...only to widen his eyes as he heard the cock of a hammer from behind him. Christ, they weren't supposed to be so quick on the draw!

He glanced back and caught a glimpse of a pistol, twitching to the side a moment before the shot rang out. He winced when the round tore through his arm, then stared when the other minuteman cried out in pain as the stray bullet slammed into his shoulder as well. "Y'all calm down now, y'hear?!" Samael reversed the grip on the timber to instead land a solid blow into the female's muzzle before she could pull the trigger again.

Her head cracked back against the wall and her eyes rolled upward, a moment before the male guard struck the base of Samael's skull with his blunt club. Samael's vision blurred, threatening to fade to black as he struggled to clutch into his consciousness. He dropped to one knee, but slammed a fist into the ground to stop himself from collapsing completely as his attacker cursed under his breath in surprise.

"That ain't gonna work..." Samael rasped as his tail brushed against the militiaman's ankle. He quickly looped it around the other chupa's leg, then rotated his hips firmly to yank the guy's paw forward and throw off his balance. The armored male blanched and windmilled his arms in an attempt to catch himself, but Samael shouldered firmly into his torso and forced him into an ungainly flip over the rebel's stout form to crash gracelessly down into his half-conscious companion.

The male guard released a dazed groan as the pistol clattered from his partner's grip, the two entangled against the wall in a groggy heap. Samael took a moment to inhale deeply, rubbing at the lump forming on his skull and glancing down at the blood running along his muscular arm, yet allowing himself a moment of self-assurance; another inch of redemption, and one less bad memory for Vincent.

"The Sons of Sirca send their regards!" he announced blithely before hopping over the moaning minutemen with a smile so he could jog out of the maintenance hallway and back into the main terminal.

Alarms were still sounding throughout the train station, though civilians hadn't yet been evacuated as small clusters of confused chupas stared around while whispering among themselves. Samael muttered a blessing as he slowed to a brisk walk while swiftly unwrapping one of the bandannas that covered his arm tattoos to instead tie snugly around the bullet wound. All he needed to be was a worried citizen, too unnerved by the blaring klaxons to wait inside the station. An easy role to play compared to most of his others.

He maneuvered through the loose throngs, masking his smirk with a concerned frown while making his way to the glass doors leading out of the station. Sunlight streamed in through the smudged panes, beckoning Samael as enticingly as any half-dressed prospect propped against the entrance to his quarters. His tail gave a confident flick and sent a sharp jangle echoing through the station before he pushed through the doors to step into the bright day with an even brighter grin.

His eyes flicked to the sight of a dingy pickup truck racing toward the steps leading up to the station's main facade, Vincent's nervous features just visible through the glare of the windshield. He really had to work on helping the kid relax -- stressing out on a mission never did anyone any good, after all!

Samael chuckled and jogged down the steps as Vincent screeched to a stop, pretending not to see the way the other rebel's gaze locked instantly onto the blood trickling around the fingers Samael had loosely clamped around his bicep. He prepared a cool reassurance while the worried rebel stepped out of the truck's cab before frowning as Vincent's eyes suddenly shot wide.

"Freeze, asshole!"

Samael twisted his head back to see a third minuteman at the top of the steps, halfway through drawing a rifle from his back. He grit his teeth and then shifted his gaze back to Vincent when he spotted the young rebel's handgun already lifted in a ready pose. "Vinny, wait!"

The pistol cracked twice in rapid succession and Samael squeezed his eyes shut for a second. But he couldn't help looking back with a grimace, knowing he had to at least confirm the threat was neutralized. He wasn't expecting the sight of the armored chupa dropping to his knees with a howl of pain, his rifle abandoned so he could instead clutch into the two bullet holes punched neatly through his thighs. Two wounds that no doubt hurt...but two he would survive, and likely even walk away from.

"Sammy, let's go!!"

He shook the surprise from his senses and stared back down at Vincent before nodding stupidly and hurrying down the remainder of the steps to the other side of the truck. Vincent waited with his gun at the ready until Samael was in the passenger's seat, only then hopping back behind the wheel and tossing his pistol into the center console so he could shift the truck into gear and speed away from the station.

Samael winced at the sudden momentum and tightened his grip around his arm, then looked back through the rear window to see another two militia members burst through the doors. But their injured companion drew their attention first, allowing Vincent to whip the pickup truck around the corner without any immediate pursuit.

Samael opened his muzzle to suggest Vincent slow down, but the rookie was already steering toward an off-ramp marking a route for Lamtha, his eyes darting to the mirrors to ensure no militia vehicles were on their tail. He didn't quite seem as giddy as the stout rebel, and Samael had the feeling it wasn't just from the stress of adrenaline. His jaws closed for the moment as silence settled over the interior of the truck.

Samael studied the deep-set frown on his friend's features before lifting his hand to check his arm. The bleeding had mostly stopped -- thankfully no major arteries stricken, no ricochets off any bones. "Hey, uh...hey, Vinny, good--"

"You can't do that, Sammy!"

There was that dollop of guilt again, spread so thickly over Samael's heart that he could barely feel his own pulse. It was becoming a familiar sensation, every nerve tightening in anticipation of the impending tempest.

It should have been enough to come through every one of these moments alive, to know that his decisions and his stubbornness and his willingness to sacrifice himself made a difference. It should have been enough to save a life and give his friends a chance to sleep without one more nightmare.

But it never was. Not when he was faced with the accusatory glares or the acrimonious snarls of the people he loved, the people he knew weren't ungrateful for his actions, but who also weren't stupid enough to not recognize that every time he threw himself in the way of danger, he was merely trading their spot on the coals for his own. He could be proud of himself for taking someone else's bullet all day long, yet it never hurt any less when his companions turned his martyrdom into an emotional recrimination.

It was still worth it, though. It was worth it every time.

Samael inhaled and began to slowly unwrap the bloody bandanna from around his bicep. "Vinny..."

But Vincent continued brashly, pounding a fist against the steering wheel even as he carefully merged into traffic. "No, I mean it! Come on, I'm not a baby! And...and Nelson warned me, she told me not let you do anything stupid, because I have to prove myself and you have to stop leaping in front of every bullet!"

It wasn't quite as devastating as it would have been from his furious little bat, but Samael nonetheless ducked his head.

He wondered if Wash ever yelled at York for this kind of thing.

He forced a smile and poked gingerly at the entry wound before clearing his throat. "Hey, listen, hon...I swear, it wasn't just tryna take a bullet for ya," he murmured. He reached over and gripped into Vincent's thigh. It was different than it was with Andee, where he would have earned a growl and a protest and a twitch away. Vincent only bit his lip and gave Samael a look that would have melted weaker knees.

He took it as a sign to proceed. "I just din' wanna leave more bodies than we needed, that's a--"

"You gotta learn to trust other people!" Vincent interrupted, removing one hand from the wheel to close around Samael's wrist and taking a moment to lock his golden eyes with Samael's deep blues. "I get that I'm new at this, and I get that you go out on more jobs than most, even the guys doing this as long as O'Neill. You know what you're doing. You're one of the most experienced operatives we have. But what's the point of Nelson making you train us if you keep taking every hit when we're in the field?"

Samael maintained the half-smile the best he could. "Aw, c'mon -- it don't do us no good if the young blood gettin' spilled on a li'l baby mission like--"

"And it does if yours gets spilled?" Vincent demanded, firing Samael a pained frown. "I'm not even trying to say I'm tougher than any other new recruit because of my family and how I grew up. Tell me how I'm supposed to learn to deal with getting punched, or having a gun pointed at me, or getting shot or stabbed if you're always jumping in the way instead?"

Samael wished he had an answer that wasn't a prettied-up lie. Luckily for him, Vincent wasn't finished yet. "I know it wasn't just you trying to protect me. You didn't want any of them to die, either, even if they were ready to kill you."

Samael chewed the inside of his cheek, squeezing Vincent's thigh slowly after a few uncomfortable moments. "Yer right. It ain't like I don't trust you, sweetie. It's just that...when we're at the shootin' range together..."

"You told me my very first day that I should do what I need to do if someone's trying to hurt me, or someone I care about," Vincent blurted before he glanced at Samael again, his brow furrowed. "Everyone else always says this is war, we can't be weak, we can't hesitate. Go for the head, or die in a pool of your own blood."

Samael opened his muzzle but Vincent interjected quietly. "That doesn't mean people don't understand you, or can't...try to do things your way." The rookie sighed and then reached across his shoulder to pull the hood of his jacket over his head. "You're one of the nicest, kindest people I've ever met. You're probably one of the most passionate people in this resistance, too. But...but you're also one of the dumbest, too." Samael smiled faintly, knowing it wasn't intended as a blunt insult. "You can't care about everyone, make every single person you talk to, or take to bed, or protect, feel so loved...and then assume no one is going to care about you, about what's important to you, about what happens to you. That isn't fair."

Vincent exhaled loudly and at last slumped in the seat. "So stop acting like it doesn't matter if you get hurt, or like you're the only person who can spare a life. I might still be the new guy but even I know everyone is here for a reason. Don't take that away from us."

Samael gazed at his companion for several seconds and then smiled as he shifted his eyes back to the road. "Wrong 'bout one thing, hon." Vincent whipped his head around to level another glare, but softened it as Samael murmured: "You ain't a rookie no more. I'm sorry fer treatin' you like one."

Vincent offered a faint smile in return, then focused once more on driving. "I appreciate it. But we both know it's not just the new recruits you're always sacrificing yourself for."

Andee's words once more burned with righteous fury. Those memories weren't as distant as Samael had thought. He rubbed his thumb gently across the bullet wound, then nodded once. "I know, hon. Still workin' on that part."

"So...so you and Andee are working with Mom? I didn't think Nelson would send you on those jobs, she's already got you running missions non-stop."

Samael rubbed at the base of his jaw with a half-smile. No surprise to learn Miss Sov wasn't spilling all the details of her new partnership with Andee and Samael to many folks, including her own son. Samael didn't feel great about it, but Andee had insinuated it was better for everyone this way. And Vincent did already do a lot of worrying. It wasn't too terribly far from the truth, anyway, since Nelson had given her own tacit approval of the dealings. Samael figured it solidified her own standing with the Hula Club a bit more.

"Aw, it ain't no big thing for me 'n li'l ol' Andee to run a gig'r two fer yer mama!" Samael reassured with a glib wave of his hand. "Half the time the li'l deliveries she has us do line up with a Movement job, anyway! All nice'n efficient-like."

Vincent wrinkled his snout somewhat and turned to look at Samael. Samael took the initiative and set his gaze on the fresh gauze wrapped around his arm, drawing Vincent's attention to it as well. "If it makes ya feel any better, bein' a junior hoopster been a whole lot safer than bein' a rebel so far!!"

Vincent huffed after a second or two, a smile worming into place. "Don't say that -- you're too sweet to be a hoopster," Vincent replied, bringing his eyes back to the path as they rumbled along the jungle trail. "You'd never cut it with how nice you are, Sammy." His smile widened a bit, demonstrating the fact it was meant as a compliment.

Samael held it close, even if it felt like a cheap paint job. Between the jobs for Miss Sov and Nelson, he hadn't felt so nice lately. "Sheeeeeit, yer jus' worried the hoop life would make me too cool! Make it so you ain't the only badass strollin' around Sidewinder with connections...even if you are the cutest," he noted with a wink. His emotions were soothed by Vincent's sheepish grin.

"No, what's cute is imagining you and Andee handling jobs for Mom, two of the shortest guys on the ring doing deals with hoopsters," Vincent fired back, his entertained expression easing the guilt even further. "You two are already, um. Really adorable, with the way you're so different but...so close." He glanced over at Samael again. "I mean, really close."

Samael grinned toothily, propping himself onto the dashboard and peering over at his companion. "Awww, yer jealous."

Vincent giggled and eyed him for a beat or two, then settled back into the driver's seat. "Nah. Trevor and I, we know better. It's way safer to, uh. You know. Just have casual sex with you than to be in a relationship with you." He paused long enough for a wince, pulling his hood down over his features again and laughing awkwardly. "Um, not. Not that there's anything wrong with you or Andee."

Samael smiled again. The way Vincent danced the line between timid and bold was irresistible as hell. "Well now that's a lie bigger'n any fishin' tale, we both got us some issues," Samael chuckled. "Don't be afraid'a pointin' that out, not like we ain't heard it all by now!"

Vincent let his own smile drift toward relief. "I will say one thing...even if you don't seem like you're made for the hoop life, I'd say Andee would fit right in." He widened his eyes somewhat and Samael tried not to chortle. "He's so scary when he wants to be. N-no offense, though!"

"He'd take that as a compliment," Samael remarked with a wink before he looked through the window. The sun was just starting to dip behind Nerom, but he knew this part of Lactan well enough that the long, stray beams of light filtering through the heavy canopy weren't necessary. He grinned to himself and turned back to Vincent, waiting until his piercing gaze drew the other rebel's attention away from the winding, uneven path. "Speakin' of the li'l bastard...we're awful close to Xulod, y'know..."

Vincent's eyes bulged. "Um...n-no, Sammy. We're supposed to come right back. Nelson said Trevor was already picking up the new traffic and that she had jobs lined up for us both already."

The grin trickled back into place as Samael calmly unfastened his seatbelt and slid across the bench-style seat toward Vincent. The little twitch from his tail in response was electric. "Awwww, c'mon, hon...what was all that ya said 'bout me not sacrificin' myself?" Vincent blinked in confusion and Samael tipped his head closer. "Yer right, y'know. Sometimes I give too much of myself to this whole...rebellion thing."

Vincent's words weren't the ones playing through Samael's mind, but they were certainly still fresh enough that the young recruit couldn't help shrinking his shoulders. "W-well, y-yeah, but. Your, um. Your arm," he began, his eyes flicking over to the bandaging. "Nelson's already gonna be mad about that. We, uh. We can't stop."

Samael sidled closer still, his hip brushing against Vincent's as the truck swerved slightly. "Heh." He teased Vincent's hood with the end of his muzzle, his words drifting across the other chupa's cheek. "How 'bout you jus' drop me off, huh? You take the boat 'n head on back to base..." He shifted an arm up to loop around Vincent's slender shoulders, as always making the difference in height seem nonexistent. "I'll get me a ride next period," he continued, his eyes dancing as Vincent struggled to keep his own on the trail. "You jus' tell Mama Nelson I stopped off to get me some first aid, is all. Ain't gonna be but thirty, forty hours behind, tops..."

Vincent's tinny laugh was drenched in a swirl of hesitation and excitement. Samael's favorite cocktail to savor. "Sammy, n-no. We, uh. We shouldn't."

"Awww, you ain't gonna get in no trouble," Samael wheedled while moving his other hand down to slip under the hem of Vincent's hooded sweatshirt. His stomach tightened up instinctively at the first touch, though it only took a gentle caress or two of Samael's fingers through his soft hide to relax the muscles and redirect the shiver down over his thighs. "We did good on this job. Comms ain't even mentioned the Movement, they thought it was some crazy cult bastard..."

A soft stutter of breaths as Vincent half-grinned, half-grimaced, his knuckles pressing through his pale blue hide as he tightened the grip around the wheel. "I-I-I shouldn't," he stammered, licking his lips quickly. "Nelson won't --ooh!"

The truck gave a less subtle swerve through the underbrush when Samael's claws drifted down through the fur at Vincent's waist before they hooked into his waistband. "Mama's just gonna front, way she always do, but it don't mean nothin'," Samael reassured as his eyes gleamed eagerly. He bent forward but kept his gaze on Vincent's taut features while his deft fingers undid the other chupa's belt. "You barely even gotta lie none -- jus' tell 'er I stopped by them caves fer some herbs 'n stitchin'."

Vincent's eyes widened further and the truck lurched forward when his paw slammed down on the accelerator with an unintentional spasm. "I...I, oh god, sh-she'll be pissed if I try and c-cover for you again..." he managed before releasing an adorable little squeak when Samael unbuttoned his pants and used a single finger to tug them down. "Sh-should I puh-pull over?" he added between quickened breaths.

"Only if you don't think you c'n deal with a li'l multitaskin'," Samael purred.

* ~ * ~ * NSFW begins * ~ * ~ *

Samael's eyes at last tore away from Vincent's face to take in the sight of his companion's bulging sheath. His tongue played across his teeth as the dark azure flesh began to rise from its protective pouch. "I trust ya, though." He drew the pad of his thumb along the base of Vincent's growing arousal, his eyes traveling across the front of his fellow rebel's hoodie to meet his eyes for a moment. "Same way I trust ya to handle tellin' Nelson a li'l story..." Vincent's tail curled suddenly around Samael's waist and the stout chupa grinned up at him. "If ya think yer ready..."

It might have been an obvious taunt, and an even more obvious bribe...but as Samael's muzzle slowly descended, it didn't seem that Vincent minded all that much. "Ho-ho-hooooly fuck..."

The curse was ambrosia from Vincent's maw, only amplified by the truck bumping violently over a root to send the first several inches of Vincent's malehood into Samael's awaiting maw. "Oh-my-christ!" Vincent squealed, one hand flying from the steering wheel to clamp over his muzzle while Samael merely took the unexpected motion in stride with a rumble as he bobbed his head smoothly, his teeth dragging teasingly along the sensitive flesh. "Nngh, S-Sammy!"

Samael responded with actions alone, one hand snaking up beneath Vincent's jacket as the other shifted down to grasp tenderly into his sheath. Vincent's erection needed no assistance emerging but Samael coaxed it all the same before starting to massage the inside of a trembling thigh and then initiating a steady rhythm with his head. For all his experience despite his waxing adulthood, Vincent was still a slave to the violent shivering and shaky whines that rushed from his parted maw, spurred on by Samael's skillful ministrations.

That was definitely still cute, too.

Samael curled his tongue around his partner's steely shaft while moving up and down with greater vigor, already tasting the nectar of Vincent's ecstasy as it dribbled into the back of his throat. "Oh god...oh god, oh god, this is such a b-b-bad idea," Vincent whispered before another firm jostle from the truck's firm suspension sent the entirety of his length into Samael's muzzle, his knot smashing into Samael's chin with an almost comical thump.

Vincent released a blissful moan and dropped his hand from where it was pressed against his jaws to instead clutch tightly into the back of Samael's skull. Whatever curses came next weren't comprehensible, but they had no reason to be. The passionate tightening of his fingers into his companion's fur spoke eloquent volumes that didn't rely on a skilled tongue.

Or at least not Vincent's tongue.

Samael grinned around his occupied maw, shifting into a kneel upon the bench and flicking his tail coyly as he took advantage of the better angle to begin a smoother tempo, his muzzle traveling from base to tip with motions so fluid, they could have been bottled and sold in bulk. The sounds from his lover grew louder with each pass as the truck's speed wavered, then suddenly increased again with the uncontrollable jerk of his leg. He could hear branches and fronds slapping loudly against the cab, the occasional scrape of bark against the siding a reminder they were still roaring through the jungle at what certainly wasn't a safe speed for their activities.

He definitely needed to try this with Andee.

Samael's toes curled with delight when Vincent groaned and slammed his head against the rear window with a dull thud, and the redneck doubled down on his efforts in response. He tightened his fingers around Vincent's thigh to support himself and began a faster rhythm, only to give a muffled rumble of surprise when his partner's hand gripped more fiercely around his skull to exert his own pressure on Samael's movements. Samael was all too happy to oblige, allowing Vincent's trembling fingers to set the pace as they shoved Samael's head down in time with his heated cries of delight.

One more particularly nasty divot in the dirt path and Vincent's knot punched forcefully past Samael's jaws to hilt his member entirely, sending a violent tremor through his slender frame. "Oh my god, oh my god!" Vincent wailed as his hips flew up from the seat to bury Samael's face into his lap, the truck glancing off the base of a tree trunk in response to his spasm. Samael's tongue wrapped tightly around his turgid flesh and he prepared himself the best he could as Vincent clutched into his skull desperately and began to hammer wildly upward.

Samael nearly missed the first salvo, rapid as Vincent's thrusts were. But the second, third and fourth made their presence known as they flooded his maw with the keening chupa's elation. Samael's tail jingled happily as he kept his snout driven into his friend's waist, practically cradling Vincent's arousal through the duration of his overwhelming orgasm.

Vincent's trembling hips eventually dropped heavily into the cushion once more as his peak tapered to a halt. He gave a warbling cry but kept his grip secure around the back of Samael's head even as his erratic driving began to stabilize. Samael didn't mind, his eyes remaining shut while he worked his tongue and throat in practiced tandem to take in every drop of ecstasy. This was what he did...what he had been trained to do, what he'd gone out of his way to become so damn good at.

And even as he drowned himself in Vincent's bliss, shamelessly burrowed his muzzle into his companion's damp fur and drank down every bit of lingering joy until only Samael's own saliva was left keeping the twitching flesh soaked...even then, there was no shame to be felt. This was a purpose he could be proud of.

"G-g-god...dammit, S-Sammy..." Samael smiled around his quarry, massaging his fingers along Vincent's stomach. "W-we...coulda...died," Vincent panted, flexing his hand once around the back of Samael's skull before finally releasing him and gripping both hands around the steering wheel again while exhaling raggedly.

Samael took his time lifting his head, letting his tongue move leisurely along the length of his friend's malehood until the navy blue flesh popped free. It slapped the end of his muzzle lightly, which made Samael chuckle low in his throat and glance up toward his companion. He pushed his maw against the steely shaft and waggled his eyebrows when Vincent's eyes met his own. "Damn, hon...yer already prepped fer round two..."

"Geezus, no, it's already sore," Vincent mumbled, even as he smiled helplessly down at him. "Mom always, um. Warned me about guys like you." He paused and then cleared his throat. "Well. Girls like you."

"Nelson probably warned ya 'bout guys like me, anyway," Samael noted before nuzzling once more time into Vincent's malehood, then sitting back up with a grunt.

"She's warned me about you, specifically," Vincent retorted with a gentle elbow into Samael's side. Samael examined his features and tried to keep his grin toned down at the mixture of flustered elation and relaxation. Just what he'd hoped for. He didn't need to feel guilty because he was doing this to help protect Vincent. It was for his own good.

"Well, she ain't wrong, I'm a bad influence," Samael drawled while dropping his head on Vincent's arm and pressing comfortably into his side. Despite the creak of the truck's frame and the cacophony of the underbrush they drove through, this afterglow was pleasant, and he hated the thought of breaking it.

He just had to tread gently.

"Yer mama warned ya 'bout anythin' else? Ya know we always appreciate havin' an ear on the ground when it comes to yer family's side'a the ring." Samael looped his arm around Vincent's as his other hand massaged over his companion's thigh. His touch was enough to make Vincent's arousal hesitate in its withdrawal, and Samael proceeded with turning toward the other chupa and pulling a leg up to rest it across Vincent's lap.

Vincent swallowed, though his smile remained pleasantly dazed as he stole a brief look at Samael, then focused once again on driving. "O-oh...uh. Hmm." He tilted his head a bit before impulsively shrinking into his hood when Samael's thumb glided along the bottom of his half-erect malehood. "W-well, she was talking to me about a few hoopies they're looking to incorporate." Samael nuzzled into his neck encouragingly and Vincent's breath rushed out on the tail end of a titter. "She, uh. She said after Hammersmith and Iron Tails both folded, she was going to look at inviting in the Neverfields and Greenbloods..." His eyes shut for a moment when Samael teased his claw around his sheath and the stout chupa glanced through the windshield, then gingerly nudged the steering wheel so the quick burst of ecstasy didn't send them off the trail. "Hnngh...but...but I know how Mom does things."

Samael eased back the affection so Vincent could take another breath. His words became tinged with that harder tone Samael was privy to every so often. "She doesn't like new blood. So. So those two are probably wiped out. She must have had help setting it up, too -- the Hammersmiths know a lot of our guys, they woulda seen them coming."

The guilt hit Samael like a train, but he steeled his nerves and reminded himself he hadn't pulled the trigger. Not that time, at least.

"If Nelson's looking for any small connections, she should probably stay away from the other two," Vincent concluded, his darker mood giving way to the shy smile once more as his eyes drifted to Samael, still clinging to his arm while running his fingers along his thigh. Samael watched with delight as Vincent's tongue traveled along the end of his muzzle, those gorgeous golden eyes darting toward him again. "You're um...you're still touching my, uh..."

"Oh, this?" Samael rumbled as he closed his fingers gently around the end of Vincent's malehood and nearly caused the other rebel to jump through the roof of the cab. "Whoops!" he chuckled, rubbing his leg along the top of Vincent's thigh and then reaching up to trace a finger along his collarbone. "Last thing we want is you gettin' all hot 'n bothered again..."

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Vincent huffed and pushed his hood back before peering over at Samael again. "Hey. It's, uh. It's your turn to get off."

Samael grinned toothily and winked as he ground playfully against Vincent's hip. "You ain't wrong, it sure is!" The grin remained only partially in place when he tipped his head through the windshield while tugging lightly on his friend's hoodie strings. "Just ain't the kinda gettin' off yer hopin' for, I don't imagine."

Vincent blinked, then squinted through the treeline as well. "What do you mean, are we close to...oh."

The grin notched down to just a smile. Samael's fingers drifted up to gently tuck Vincent's sheath back into his pants before smoothly doing them back up and fastening his belt with practiced ease. "You just go on ahead 'n drop me off right up 'ere at the bend." He patted his companion's crotch playfully. "This way you won't owe me nothin'."

Vincent bit his lip and then tried a lame smile while kneading his fingers into the steering wheel. "Uh. Hey, m-maybe. Maybe I can come, too?"

It didn't take much to parse Vincent's plea. He wasn't the kind of person to be offended by not being included. It was Samael specifically he didn't want to separate from, and Samael didn't even think any kind of fear of Nelson's reaction was being factored in. But this was to get some time with Andee...and that was about one of the most precious resources on Sirca these days.

He produced a playful smile, though, and moved to straddle Vincent's lap. Vincent's eyes widened and he leaned to the side so he could keep navigating the dark path around the broad chupa sitting upon his thighs. "S-Samael!"

"Sorry, Vinny," he replied in a low voice, pressing his muzzle down into Vincent's neck and planting a kiss against his throat. He felt the steering wheel twitch as his bulky form swayed gently on his companion's lap. "You know Andee would tear yer ass a new one. It's all good, though." His hands roved up along the inside of Vincent's sweatshirt as he squeezed his legs together. "I'll be back before y'all know it!" Vincent stole another look at him and Samael showered him with a smile affectionate enough to invite heresy. "Right up here should be jus' fine, hon."

He could already see Andee's face. The little bat always hated surprises, and he never stopped threatening to gut Samael for his unexpected visits. But he never could hide the delighted smile that lurked under his scowl every single time. That smile made Samael's heart sing.

Samael caught the end of a frown from Vincent as the slender chupa did his best to mask it with a faint chuckle. But the disappointment shone through all the same. "Oh. I, um. Alright." He shuddered when Samael eased his hips closer and placed another kiss into his collarbone.

Andee would be happy to see him, damn the grumpy complaints about not calling ahead. And Samael had been missing him ever since he and York had parted ways from that island...not to mention their little plan for getting their respective partners together for a card game would be a lot easier to pull off in person. This was the perfect opportunity.

Some of Samael's eagerness faltered at the hurt expression on Vincent's attractive features. But he felt the truck slowing all the same, and Samael offered him an appreciative murmur as he pushed their chests together and nibbled gratefully at his companion's neck. Vincent was a good guy...no, a great guy. But he knew Samael well enough by now. He knew what Andee meant to Samael.

The short but intense show of passion they'd shared was surely helping encourage Vincent's agreement to the detour, but who was to say it wasn't also making the guy a little more emotional than usual? It'd be silly to think he wouldn't be at least a little disappointed that Samael was parting ways to go see Andee.

It would pass, though, the way it did for any of Samael's friends-turned-lovers. York couldn't be the only one who understood it.

"Thank you, sweetie." He leaned back a bit as the tires rolled to a halt, keeping himself from checking their location and instead focusing on Vincent. "Means a lot, even if I know yer probably tired'a coverin' my ass with Nelson."

Vincent's smile was still small, but it looked a bit more genuine, at least. "Yeah. Yeah, I kind of am, Samael." Samael chewed on his tongue, then moved a hand up to cup Vincent's cheek. The gesture carried honest intention, and Vincent's eyes lost their hard edge as he sighed and nodded a few times while pushing into Samael's palm. "But I. I got your back. Just please don't get shot seven times in the chest again."

"Ay, it were only three times," Samael reasoned with a wink, reaching over to grab his supply pack from the other side of the cab, then opening Vincent's door.

"Don't break your arm again, either," Vincent added flatly. "I swear, every time you do some mysterious job with Andee...some...some job that none of us get any details about..."

Samael smiled and slid off the taller chupa's lap to land with a grunt in the mushy soil outside. "You ain't missin' much," he lied smoothly, landing a gentle punch against Vincent's thigh. "Nelson just don't want the rest'a you folks gettin' jealous 'bout the gigs she's sendin' me 'n my li'l fruit bat to take care of!"

Vincent didn't look fully convinced, but when Samael hopped onto the running board so he could land a kiss on the other chupa's cheek, a flustered huff overtook the suspicion. "You get on yer way, hon, don't get yerself in trouble gettin' back late, I'll take all the fire!" he reassured, dropping back to the jungle floor.

"Like you always do," Vincent mumbled. He couldn't stop the smile, though, as he touched two fingers to his cheek and then glanced toward the rock formation just visible through the heavy foliage. "Be safe, Samael. Andee's not the only one who cares about you."

Samael's relaxed smile was too slow to form, but he painted it on nonetheless. "I ain't blind to it, Vinny. And Andee ain't the only one I care about, neither."

"I know." Vincent gazed down at him before reaching for the door handle. "That's why it still hurts." Samael's smile wavered. "That's why we still worry." He nodded to the stout rebel. "Take care and...hopefully you're back before sunrise tomorrow. I don't think I can bust enough pipes to make excuses for you after then."

"Ow," Samael remarked, stepping back but catching a tiny smile from Vincent when he pulled the door shut. "See ya soon, sweetie," he added softly, knowing it wasn't audible but figuring Vincent would still appreciate it. The guy deserved to know he wasn't just an extremely fuckable decoy.

Vincent pulled the truck away, glancing at Samael in the mirror as the stocky chupa waved. The guilt became easier to push down when Samael's eyes tore away from the retreating tail lights to gaze toward the hidden entrance of the underground city. And it became practically nonexistent as he thought of Andee again and broke into an excited jog. Andee made everything better, because Samael had never had to work so hard for anything else in his life. He'd sacrifice himself a thousand times for the little bastard if it meant even one more sunset with him.

...He just had to remember not to ever tell the little bastard.

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.