The conclusion of our thrilling prompt journey.
(Back to Part I: BB/Kaz, gen.)
Prompt by moonlitsiren: "In the interest of not spoiling anything, I'll just say the PW torture scene taken to new (and sexy) levels."
Direct Torture, Indirect Love
"Now, what do you know?"
The questions wouldn't stop, no matter how long he resisted, no matter how stubbornly he clung to the official version. Strangelove was far too much of a scientist and, much as the prisoner hated to admit it, the answers he was supplying made as little sense now as they had to him back before he found out the truth.
"...Did she defect or not? Did she or did she now die for her country? What really happened? What did you see?!" Strangelove's face came uncomfortably close to his for a moment, and the next question hit without warning.
"Did she ever kiss you?"
He would've done a double-take weren't it for the bonds holding him suspended in mid-air. "What?!"
"Answer me!" Strangelove demanded. "Did your Boss ever give you a kiss? I have a right to know--"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
Strangelove raised the voltage to a level that would do Volgin proud.
As the wave of electricity faded again, it dawned on (literally) Naked Snake that telling Strangelove this much wasn't such a horrible prospect, after all. Hell, maybe she'd even stop asking about the damn defection if this answer kept her satisfied. And so, he looked up from his dangling feet and admitted it.
"There was this one time...in survival training. We were having a bit of practice with diving in some flooded caves, and I couldn't keep up. The Boss had to drag me out of there and give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She...she saved my life..." Snake added dreamily.
But before he had any time to shove the memory aside, Strangelove had lunged at him, hands suddenly empty, and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of him right then and there. Snake couldn't even fake any resistance as Strangelove's tongue pushed past his lips, ruthless and demanding. To top it off, Strangelove tangled both of her hands in his bandana, pulling so hard it almost came loose.
"Boss," she breathed once she'd finished her conquest of Snake's mouth. Her hand traced the outline of the scar on Snake's chest, doubtless recalling another body shuddering beneath the rugged shape.
"Fuck," snake spat on the floor resentfully. "You're even worse than Ocelot."
"Funny you should say that," Strangelove retorted as she drew away, her curiosity clearly appeased for the time being.
"Ocelot!" she bellowed towards the door. Snake heard the faint but steadily approaching clinking of spurs and paled.
"Your turn," Strangelove drawled as she passed the baton on to the chuckling newcomer. "And don't overdo it or you're the toast."
Prompt by plus5pencil: "Strangelove/Peace Walker; Strangelove finds an outlet for her (presumably unrequited) love for The Boss? How this works exactly is up to you. Be creative! I can't wait to see what kind of reactions Peace Walker has to Strangelove coming on to her. Bonus points if porn happens."
Throughout her career as an AI specialist, Strangelove had been aware of her colleagues' appraisal of her work. Sometimes she could read bitterness in their actions, sometimes grudging admiration, but the ever-present emotion was a sort of intense bafflement. Why did someone with her misanthropic attitude invest all this time and energy into finding ways to make machines more like people? And how could Strangelove be so good at it, cooped up in her lab day after day like some sort of modern hermit?
The truth was simple, actually: she loved what she did. Or perhaps who she did, Strangelove thought with a wry smile as she opened the hatch to the Mammal Pod that night and climbed inside.
"Doctor," The Boss's voice addressed her, a tad too formal for her liking. Strangelove's first response was a curt nod of the head, before she remembered physical gestures were of little use here and returned a studiously neutral greeting. Sometimes she really wondered if she would ever get used to this.
She must have been inside the pod a thousand times by now; she'd set the AI boards with meticulous care, checked the internal wiring and power supply, worked at attuning the machine to her old friend's mind with such diligence that there were moments she forgot herself. And at long last, she was starting to feel that she could discern something of The Boss in the intricate circuit she had assembled. A subtle yet evidently vital "something".
Strangelove shrugged off the thought with practised efficacy, snapping back to the matter at hand. "Commencing test."
"Ready," the AI rejoined automatically in that long-lost voice.
"You have an important mission in enemy territory, but have been dropped off at the farther side of a mountain ridge to avoid detection. You have no equipment on you except for a knife. Halfway through the mountains, you approach a narrow ledge. It's the only way forward, but a snake is lying in your path. You must dispose of the snake to proceed. What do you do?"
Strangelove made a point of rewriting this particular question after every session so as to make the situation appear as different from the previous version as she could. Not that it was possible to avoid the structure altogether. It was always Peace Walker and her assignment versus the threat of the lurking snake.
"I chase it away," came the usual answer.
"The only way to go is down."
"I throw it off the cliff."
"You'll fall," Strangelove countered, already aware it was no use. Whatever happened, this one conclusion didn't change. The snake must be extracted, but alive. Even at the price of Peace Walker's own destruction.
Before Strangelove could regain her composure, however, something unprecedented occurred: the AI was the one to change the topic. "You've asked this question before, Doctor. I always give the same answer."
The word she had held back escaped Strangelove's mouth as though of its own accord. "Why?"
"There is no need for the snake to die," Peace Walker stated simply.
"But the snake isn't the objective!" was all Strangelove came up with to that, voice rising without her notice. This was, slowly but surely, getting to be too much. She'd been breaking her figurative back for years to resurrect The Boss, and all she'd gained from the ordeal was listening to that noble spirit condemn herself again, over and over no matter how she asked.
Looking up to the memory boards, Strangelove realized she might have remained quiet a bit too long.
"I..." What? I actually came here at three in the morning because I still miss you, and hearing you deal out your own death sentence one more time was the very last thing I needed tonight?
"Doctor, what's wrong?"
Gently, Strangelove braced her palms against the AI's core, letting out a deep sigh. It steadied her a little. "It's nothing. You've performed well."
"You're lying. I detect excess heat in your hands, and your pulse is quickening."
Strangelove's signature glasses clattered to the floor.
"What did you..?" she little more than breathed, falling to her knees beside the central panel.
The AI failed to elaborate further - instead, a muted melody began to rise in the air, accompanied by the optical illusion of butterflies. The song grew steadily in volume, filling the awestruck scientist's senses, flooding her.
The next morning, Strangelove would wonder how she could be waking up inside Peace Walker, her mind scrambling to recapture the radiant images from that night's dreams: The Boss lying beside her in a field of flowers, dressed in nothing but her dishevelled workout suit, a glowing swarm of butterflies fluttering overhead in the evening sun. Then the feel of their bodies pressed together, the slide of skin against skin in the tall grass, The Boss's lips a hot touch to her neck. For the moment, though, she could distinguish nothing but the flowing lullaby that swept her consciousness away.
"At ease," sounded softly in the small chamber, as Strangelove drifted at last into sleep.
Prompt by cherrytruck: "Big Boss gets lonely and calls a sex line (like a boss!). Bonus points if Big Boss awkwardly choses the gay option to talk to a man. Super bonus points if the man on the other end of the line is somebody Big Boss knows in person. You decide who. Ultra mega bonus points if they actually arrange to meet up and super awkward stuff occurs when they find out who they were talking to on the phone."
Like a Boss
Running Outer Heaven was a tiring job, all the more so in the early nineties with a significant portion of the old MSF gone, replaced by younger recruits. Much as Big Boss hated to admit it, he missed Kaz. He could track down where Miller had gone if he wanted, but what was the point? They hadn't parted on the best of terms, and Big Boss was sure Kaz had no problem finding entertainment elsewhere with his uncannily youthful looks and cheeky personality.
Which, to be completely honest about it, was far from Big Boss's own case. He barely went out anymore - and when he did, it was for the sake of some undercover operation that just made him feel pathetic in comparison to his younger years. Didn't he deserve a break? Couldn't he, for once in his life, do something thoroughly unimportant with no earth-shattering consequences?
Flipping through the current edition of his newspaper irritably, it wasn't long before a garish advertisement caught his eye. Inside its frame were artlessly censored figures of naked women arranged to point at a phone number that could serve one purpose only. "Discreet, professional service - call now! We also offer our clients appointments--"
But Big Boss was already picking up the phone. Damn it all to hell and back, if he couldn't get away with this one pointless experiment, he might as well go hang himself right now.
The advertised number indeed existed, and it didn't even take unreasonably long for him to get connected. The cheesy background music was making him gag already, though. He was hardly going to get off on this.
He was also pretty sure the sultry voice speaking to him now was an answering machine, but his confidence dropped when he was prompted to make a choice as far as preferences went. What the hell, since when had sex lines grown so diversified? And why did his heart leap so at the revelation that he could, at the push of the right button, speak to a man here?
He contemplated it a little longer, but finally decided that if he was going to go through with this, he did not need to waste the entirety of Outer Heaven's budget in the process. And so, with a slight frown, he pressed 2.
The line went silent for a moment, and then a voice that was distinctly not automatic came in. "Yes?"
"Err...hi," Big Boss replied, unsure how to start such a conversation. Oh, wait, now that he thought about it, there was one thing he had to get out of the way. "Would you, uh, mind turning that godawful music off?"
The voice in his ear cracked with laughter. "Whatever gets you going, baby."
"Better," Big Boss remarked once the background had gone quiet. "Well, how exactly are we supposed to do this?" God, this was even more awkward than he'd imagined.
"Who knows," came the cryptic response. "What do you like?"
"We could start with your name."
"Well, what do you want my name to be?"
"Is this a--" Big Boss stopped himself. What did he know? Maybe it just was how these things went. And in any case, the voice distantly reminded him of someone. Eventually, he huffed into the receiver, "Adamska."
The man on the other side made a strange noise, something between alarm and plain disbelief. "What?" Big Boss snapped. "It is a real name. Russian, as it happens. If it sounds too-- 'girly' to you or something--"
"It's fine," the voice interrupted him. "It's nothing. Go on."
"Uh. That's all I had to say," Big Boss admitted sheepishly.
"Then enough small talk. I want you to imagine my mouth on your neck. And now I'm kissing down your stomach. Can you feel it?"
He'd have preferred to nod to that but sadly this was no option, so he just gave a vague hum. Truth was, this unseen guy's voice was doing things to him. And pathetically enough, his hand was down his own trousers before the voice's narrative even got that far.
Oh well, maybe this wasn't such a bad idea.
It had taken two additional calls - Big Boss had shuddered with worry he might get someone else on the line before each of them, but his fears turned out to be unfounded - and they had arranged a meeting. Big Boss caught himself shuffling his shoes nervously as he waited, looking out for the only stranger that could possibly find this place. Because he had been instructed. Invited by Big Boss himself, at that. Shit. He couldn't believe he was doing this.
His musings were sharply interrupted when the cold barrel of a gun pressed between his shoulder blades.
"Kept you waiting?"
And he knew where he'd heard that voice before.
He turned around, too incredulous to consider the weapon at all. "Ocelot?"
"Long time no see," the intruder said nonchalantly. "Amazing how people find each other sometimes - don't you think, John?"
Big Boss gave him a disbelieving once-over, but there could be no doubt. This was Ocelot all right, standing before him revolver in hand, a smug grin plastered across his features. A day after they'd settled a date on a sex line.
"So that's your line of work these days?" Big Boss couldn't help asking. The idea of Ocelot sitting next to a phone all day, entertaining faceless strangers and letting them take him out on dates was beyond ridiculous.
"Oh, don't be silly," Ocelot said with an expression of fake hurt. "I knew it was you. Do you really think I'd agree on the meeting otherwise?"
Big Boss shot him a doubtful glare, but decided not to press the point. A couple days ago he'd indulged in an Ocelot fantasy that had been desperate at best, and now that the real thing had come his way like this, he was going to reap the benefits. Here, now, and if it turned out uncomfortable then too fucking bad.
No protest came from Ocelot.
"Actually," Big Boss said when they were finished, Ocelot's legs still draped over his hips, "forget what i asked earlier. May I interest you in a more suitable job, Adam?"
Ocelot fixed him with a look that spoke for itself. "Go ahead."
Prompt by cherrytruck: "Solid Snake/LiquiddressedasMasterMiller. In a foxhole, go go go!"
Master of Disguise
Snake crawled stealthily into the foxhole, I mean air duct of Shadow Moses, only to find himself confronted with a familiar face. A familiar, sunglassed, sexy face.
"Oh, Master!" he cried, ecstatic. "There's no one I'd rather have in a foxhole than you!"
Liq-- Master Miller smirked. "well, I know lots about sexing in harsh environment. There was this one time, with your father...damn, never mind. The first important rule is, do not take off your clothes."
Snake pulled a very sad face at that. "But Master, it's been so long since I last beheld your waxed parts of majesticness. However will I deal?"
"You'll just have to friggin' cope here, pussy," said Miller in a tone Snake vividly recalled from their hellish training sessions, before he crushed their lips together.
The air duct was a lot less comfortable than a cardboard box, but they turned the close quarters into a convenience with the classic efficiency of field soldiers. Miller's hand in his crotch, Snake found he didn't mind his own suit anymore. After all, it worked wonders on the body heat.
He didn't even mind when he sort of ruined it, making this his fastest screw-up during a mission yet.
"Well," Miller remarked in the afterglow, "That was refreshing. Gotta crawl now, though. You stay cool, baby."
Snake could barely believe his ears. "Master! How come you won't help me out with this mission? Just after our reunion, too!"
Miller looked back for one last time, sunglassses slightly askew. "I'll watch over you, Snake. You can be sure of it."
Eyes wide in abject shock and horror, Snake watched his master reveal himself as Liquid. Liquid, that damn psychotic inferior clone.
"Did you like my sunglasses?" the bastard asked like it was a perfect run-of-the-mill question, ignoring Snake's indignation in a way that, well, downright sucked.
Finally, Snake came to his senses. "Liquid!" he bellowed to the cruel Alaskan wind.
"LOL PWNED," was all Liquid gratified him with as the connection went mute.
"Master..." Snake murmured then, but of course Miller was silent.
This stupid mission was just not worth it, Snake decided. He ran to the edge of the tower, spread out his arms, and jumped. Campbell in his ear could go fuck himself, too. With a lawnsprinkler.
"Snake, you can't do that! You'll create a time paradox!
PENANCE FIC GIVEN TO ME BY CHE: "Zerostraight badfic." It hurt but hurt so good. XD (Spoiler: He and Big Boss still end up in bed.)
Zero cried fishtanks because nobody would believe him that he was straight. Para-Medic would tease him about his boner for Big Boss, Sigint would constantly rant on about the freedom of minorities and how lucky he was to have found such an understanding employer, wink wink, and Snake himself never gave him a break either. Just because Zero wasn't married or didn't think about having kids apart from cloning his closest friend (three times over), did that mean he wanted to screw him as well? No! What was the matter with these oversexed bloody wankers?
One night, Zero had locked himself up in his room at the Patriot headquarters to be emo with a stack of Playboys he had collected ever since the magazine had first gone into print. He'd never missed an issue, not even during that madcap mission in Tselinoyarsk. In fact, fapping to the scantily clad beauties in Playboy had been the only thing keeping him sane in those days. Too bad he hadn't let everybody walk in on him while was doing it.
Suddenly, an urgent knock was heard. Zero sighed, pushing the magazines under his bed in shame. "Come in," he answered, disgruntled.
It was Big Boss, wearing a desperate expression on his dashing one-eyed face. "Major, I have a...problem."
"What is it, Snake? And make it quick, I was busy."
Snake swallowed, gingerly moving to make his approach. As soon as Zero's eyes fell upon the newcomer's crotch, snake seemed to completely lose it and blurted out in a strangled voice, "I-- I was outside and then a Brazilian Wandering Spider came out of nowhere and bit me and yeah I tended to the wound so I don't think I'm gonna die but augh now I have this boner that won't go down! What should I do? I don't want my dick to explode ;A;"
Zero blanched visibly. "Snake, what in god's name--?"
"Help me, Major!"
"Because..." Big Boss blushed and averted his gaze. "I like you."
Awkward silence ensued, in which Zero scooted away from Snake, vainly attempting to melt into his leather fur-trimmed jacket.
"What's wrong?" Snake asked with an expression of such hurt that even the most heartless tosser would bloody well grow a sodding heart just to have it broken by that tormented face.
"Snake," Zero said resolutely, "what happens in this room shall never make it to the public sphere, you understand?"
Big Boss's face lit up instantly. "Yessir!" he saluted. (With his arm; now get your head out of the gutter, you arsing pervert. Also tits.)
And thus Zero fondled Snake's explosive boner until he was relieved and then they fapped to the Playboys together and spent the rest of the night exploring each other's butts like any pair of self-respecting heterosexual bros would do in their spare time. Meanwhile, the Brazilian Wandering Spider had made its way into the room, creeping towards the bedding as the exhausted Zerostraight and Big Beefcake slept off the effects of their romp.
~Buggery and Tea~