fajrdrako_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fajrdrako_fic) wrote2012-04-24 05:14 pm
fajrdrako_fic) wrote2012-04-24 05:14 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: The Losers - 'Jungle Fever'
Title: Jungle Fever
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: The Losers
Characters: Clay/Cougar
Genre: slash
Rating: R
Words: 2,530
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims, all property of Vertigo Comics and Warner Bros. Notes: Also posted on fajrdrako-fic. With heartfelt thanks to my beta-readers,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lunacy_gal and fairestcat.
Jungle Fever
Cougar kicked at the smoking remains of the scrap metal that, not so long ago, had been a working helicopter. It was supposed to be their ride home. Before the missile hit it. These mountain warlords had good weaponry.
It was supposed to be a quick exit. Take the compound: done. Take the drugs (whatever was left after the bombing and the fires), take the women (some hysterical, some stunned by the prospect of freedom), pack up the weapons that had been saved, and be on their way. But there was only one rickety bus still good for the road; no way they would all fit into it, with the women, and the weapons, and the drugs.
And they had to get out fast, because this wasn't the only druglord in the area, and the other warlords would know already that this high-tech castle on top of the mountain was rubble. They might be stupid, but they weren't blind: the smoke must be visible for miles. Wars don't stop for anyone's convenience.
So someone had to walk. Two someones.
Clay barked his orders. "Priority number one, get the women to safety. Give them the rest of the cash and let them go. Burn the drugs, keep the weapons, get out of the country and we'll meet at rendezvous seven in six days. Got it?" Rendezvous 7 was in Costa Rica. A nice spot: safe, sunny, and civilized. They all liked Costa Rica. There were some decent bartenders there.
Not like this jungle hellhole.
"I'll walk out. With..." Clay's eyes ran over the Losers, briefly holding Cougar's gaze before moving on, and then back to him. "Cougar. If we don't make it, don't come back looking for us. Clear? Okay, get going."
He didn't mention that the bus might not make it. Rough mountain roads, a limited supply of gas, ambush points around every turn, and at least three armies ready to tear them apart if the mountain bandits didn't get them first. Or the mountain lions. Or the odd entrepreneur who might just think that drugs, weapons, and women already trained to slavery might be just the thing to set them up for life.
But Clay had no doubt they'd all make it, and with that sort of conviction, there was a good chance they'd come through intact and singing. They'd beaten the odds before.
It was what they were all about.
* * *
Everyone joked that Cougar was in love with his gun, but he wasn't. He was in love with Clay.
That was why, when they started walking in the late afternoon heat, Cougar felt good. They travelled light - water, weapons, the clothes on their back. Anything else would slow them down. Their best chance of survival in getting out of these mountains lay in speed and invisibility. They'd have taken food, if there was any to take, but the food in the compound had burned with the building. They should be out of the jungle in a day or two anyway.
A couple of days, just him and Clay. Hale-fucking-luyah. Clay used to hang out with Roque even when they weren't fighting, and sometimes with Pooch. Sometimes all of them, in a 'we're-all-buddies' sort of way. Which they were, and Cougar was included in that, in the love that united them all.
Which hadn't much to do with the way he felt, specifically, about Clay.
Aisha had changed the dynamics of the group, especially when she first turned up. Clay had spent less time with them, and more with her, alone, fucking. That was fine with Cougar. It made Clay happy, even though Cougar couldn't guess what Clay saw in girls who beat him up and messed him up. It made Clay as happy as he ever got, and that made Cougar happy, too.
Except, right now, Clay was cantankerous, grumbling about having to get out of the fucking mountains on foot, with a two year old map that was scarce on detail and heavy on fantasy. There was no phone service, no food, and too much heat. Not to mention the snakes, the bugs, the cliffs, the dead ends, the rebels, the other rebels, the lack of reliable trails, and the total absence of cold beer.
"What are you grinning at?" Clay asked, glaring at him.
Cougar shrugged. "We're alive."
Clay looked at him sharply. Cougar stopped walking, because he liked it when Clay looked at him, really focussed on him, like the moment when you have something caught in the cross-hairs and you can just forget the rest. He looked at Clay and Clay looked at him. Cougar's smile got even broader.
Then Clay laughed, one of those real guffaws that came from the belly. "Shit, yeah," he said.
It wasn't safe to stop in daylight. They heard some gunfire over the ridge, but it didn't come closer and they didn't go to look. They lurked under trees when three copters went over, then went away again. They heard voices, but it turned out to be a mother and two children tending goats, who never even knew Clay and Cougar were there.
It wasn't safe to stop at night, either, but sure-footed Cougar was starting to slow down and even to stumble by midnight, so Clay said, "We camp here."
It wasn't a bad spot: sheltered by an outcrop of stones, with a good wide view - though without the flashlight, all they could see was stars above and darkness below. In daylight, they could probably see all the way to the lowland farms. Best of all, there was a stream of fresh water, which they'd been hearing intermittently for the past hour.
They drank some water and shared some chocolate.
"I'll take first watch," said Clay. Cougar grunted assent. The whole team knew Clay didn't sleep much, especially on a mission. He could go for days without sleep, and sometimes did. Sometimes even when there was no mission. Too many ghosts in his past, Cougar thought. Too much pain behind him.
Cougar sat with his back against a rock. They'd thrown a light tarp over the mossy ground, and it was as comfy and friendly as someone's old sofa. "Nice night," he said conversationally, looking out at the stars spread around them. He wouldn't have said a thing if the others had been around, but they weren't. It was a fucking beautiful night, and Clay was there beside him close enough to touch. He felt like singing, it was so damn good.
"Yeah," said Clay.
They were silent for a bit. Cougar could hear Clay's light breathing, the sound of his body settling more comfortably against the rock behind them. Clay must have wanted to talk, because he said, "How're things with you?"
"Fine."
"Got a girl these days?"
"Not really."
"Don't talk much, do you?"
"Only if there's things to say."
"Times like this, I wonder if it's people who messed up the world. If the planet would be better off without any of us. You think?"
"No," said Cougar.
"It's people bring the bad stuff. Wars. Violence. Greed."
"No. It's all about balances. Good people, bad people. Bad people like the ones back there who enslaved the women. Good people like us, who saved them. We aren't saints, but we put some balance back into the world. The good's there too, waiting to be recovered."
He could tell Clay was smiling, even though it was dark. "You saying we redeem humanity? Us?"
"Yeah, that's it. We do our bit."
"Always knew you were deep. What else do you think about, on a night like this?"
"Think? I don't think, I go with the flow."
"...Grasshopper. I thought you thought about sex, like the rest of us."
"That too. Goes without saying."
"Who do you think about?"
"Used to be Scarlett Johansson."
"Shit yes. And now? Who's better?"
"You."
To do him credit, Clay didn't say anything at all, not at first. Cougar let the silence stretch, wondering if he should have kept his stupid mouth shut as usual. That's how it goes: you get too happy, too relaxed, you lose your edge, you say things you shouldn't to the wrong people, you screw up the balance you've kept all this time …
"Me," said Clay at last, without intonation, just checking to make sure he'd heard right. "You have sex fantasies about me."
"Yup," said Cougar firmly. No point lying now. Time to play this out.
"Why?"
Cougar thought over several possible answers, all of them true. Because you are hot. Because you are the best person I ever met, and the smartest. Because I've loved you since the day I first set eyes on you. How far could he push this?
"Because you're hotter than Scarlett Johansson."
Clay thought about that. It didn't seem to bring him much clarification. "Funny thing. No one ever said I was hotter than Scarlett Johansson before."
"Maybe no one else noticed. Aisha, maybe."
"You've got funny taste."
"No, I don't," said Cougar sharply. "It proves my good taste." Clay wasn't laughing at him, which was hard to believe and more than he'd hoped for, but his pulse was picking up like it did when they were coming up against the enemy and not sure what was going to happen. His throat was dry, and if he didn't seduce Clay now he'd probably never get another chance. But how? What to say? How had Aisha done it? Well, she'd kicked his ass four ways to Sunday, but that just wasn't Cougar's style.
He knew Clay had turned his head, but it was so fucking dark they couldn't see each other. So he reached out a hand and touched the side of Clay's face. He couldn't see, but he knew exactly where Clay was and how he was sitting because he could hear him and sense him and now he could feel him, too, fingers against skin, and he was breathing harder than you'd expect from a man at rest. Clay was leaning against the rock with his legs stretched out in front of him, not cross-legged the way Cougar had been. But now Cougar was on his knees.
Clay said softly, "Prove it."
Cougar wasn't a coward, but he almost retreated. He'd never backed down out of fear in the whole of his life, not since he was a kid and learned that it was the wrong thing to do - the wrong tactics, the choice that led to defeat, bad for the heart and spirit. There was too much at stake here. He'd seduced all sorts of people, rich, poor, young, old, worldly, innocent, good, bad, and everything in between - but this was Clay, and Clay had been the centre of his life for a long time now. How could he handle it if Clay fucked him and then moved on? If Clay never wanted him again... if Clay broke his heart and didn't notice... if this was just a fucking game to Clay....
But he trusted Clay in a way he'd never trusted anyone else.
If he missed his chance, this miraculous chance, he'd never forgive himself. If he retreated out of fear, he'd hate himself forever.
This wasn't going to be about hate. It was about love.
"Prove it," whispered Clay, and Cougar could feel the puff of his breath against his palm.
Cougar hiked a knee over Clay's legs so he was astride him, kneeling on the tarp over the moss and jungle earth, almost but not quite touching him with his body, just at the edge of his body heat.
Slowly, with every ounce of control he had, Cougar moved his face closer to Clay's. He moved his hands to brace himself on the rock behind Clay, one hand on each side of his head. He was close enough to feel Clay's breath against his lips, but they still weren't quite touching.
Even more softly than Clay had spoken, Cougar said, "Clay," and kissed him.
A kiss. He had kissed and been kissed thousands of times, but this was different, because it was Clay, and there was no one in his life like Clay. Never had been, never could be again, because there was no one anywhere like him. Cougar couldn't breathe or think. He thought maybe time had stopped, because this was that important, that good, that heart-stoppingly spectacular.
And his brain was struggling to catch up with his skin, because he could feel Clay touching him, his hands running up his back under his shirt, pulling him closer. The kisses were deep and demanding and their bodies were tight together now. Clay pulled him into his goddamned lap and Cougar's plan of careful and sensuous seduction was forgotten as they fumbled with clothes and angles and zippers and pressed together, cock against cock, breath against breath. Someone - yeah, Cougar - was trembling.
Trust Clay to take command.
Clay rolled him over, moving on top of him, kissing Cougar's mouth and face and throat, his hands everywhere, including around Cougar's cock, as if that was what he wanted more than anything in the world. Which was how Cougar felt himself, but he was groaning and touching and gasping and there were no words in any language. And when Clay moaned out loud it was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, and he was coming, hard and fast and strong, and he wanted it to last forever. He could feel Clay's hot spunk spilling over him and Clay cried out suddenly. If there were enemies somewhere in the bushes he and Clay were two dead men, but what a way to go.
Clay stilled. They held each other. Clay kissed his hands, gently. His face. Cougar was crying a little, mostly out of happiness. Or was it shock?
"Damn," said Clay, running a finger down his cheek. "Next time we do that, we do it in daylight. I want to see your face."
Next time. He'd said "next time".
Cougar said, "I usually have more finesse." Not to mention staying power.
Clay laughed, his rib cage heaving against Cougar's. "A volcano doesn't need finesse," he said, and he held Cougar just a little more tightly.
Which was just fine with Cougar.
After a bit, Clay got up and used a cloth and bit of water from the stream to wash the mess off their bodies. Cougar cursed the cold water but he loved Clay touching him again, and his cock stiffened a little in appreciation. They readjusted their clothes and Clay said, "Can you take lookout duty for a bit? I need some sleep."
Clay, who didn't sleep, mostly.
"Sure," said Cougar, settling himself against the rock, sitting with his gun within reach. Clay put his head in Cougar's lap. Cougar ran his fingers through Clay's hair, stroking his forehead. He felt high on the knowledge that he could touch Clay, and then touch him some more, and Clay wasn't stopping him. He felt like singing, so he did, a lullaby his mother used to sing. Softly, so no enemy soldier could hear.
But Clay, who didn't sleep, was already sleeping and didn't hear the song.
- end -
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: The Losers
Characters: Clay/Cougar
Genre: slash
Rating: R
Words: 2,530
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims, all property of Vertigo Comics and Warner Bros. Notes: Also posted on fajrdrako-fic. With heartfelt thanks to my beta-readers,
lunacy_gal and fairestcat.Jungle Fever
Cougar kicked at the smoking remains of the scrap metal that, not so long ago, had been a working helicopter. It was supposed to be their ride home. Before the missile hit it. These mountain warlords had good weaponry.
It was supposed to be a quick exit. Take the compound: done. Take the drugs (whatever was left after the bombing and the fires), take the women (some hysterical, some stunned by the prospect of freedom), pack up the weapons that had been saved, and be on their way. But there was only one rickety bus still good for the road; no way they would all fit into it, with the women, and the weapons, and the drugs.
And they had to get out fast, because this wasn't the only druglord in the area, and the other warlords would know already that this high-tech castle on top of the mountain was rubble. They might be stupid, but they weren't blind: the smoke must be visible for miles. Wars don't stop for anyone's convenience.
So someone had to walk. Two someones.
Clay barked his orders. "Priority number one, get the women to safety. Give them the rest of the cash and let them go. Burn the drugs, keep the weapons, get out of the country and we'll meet at rendezvous seven in six days. Got it?" Rendezvous 7 was in Costa Rica. A nice spot: safe, sunny, and civilized. They all liked Costa Rica. There were some decent bartenders there.
Not like this jungle hellhole.
"I'll walk out. With..." Clay's eyes ran over the Losers, briefly holding Cougar's gaze before moving on, and then back to him. "Cougar. If we don't make it, don't come back looking for us. Clear? Okay, get going."
He didn't mention that the bus might not make it. Rough mountain roads, a limited supply of gas, ambush points around every turn, and at least three armies ready to tear them apart if the mountain bandits didn't get them first. Or the mountain lions. Or the odd entrepreneur who might just think that drugs, weapons, and women already trained to slavery might be just the thing to set them up for life.
But Clay had no doubt they'd all make it, and with that sort of conviction, there was a good chance they'd come through intact and singing. They'd beaten the odds before.
It was what they were all about.
* * *
Everyone joked that Cougar was in love with his gun, but he wasn't. He was in love with Clay.
That was why, when they started walking in the late afternoon heat, Cougar felt good. They travelled light - water, weapons, the clothes on their back. Anything else would slow them down. Their best chance of survival in getting out of these mountains lay in speed and invisibility. They'd have taken food, if there was any to take, but the food in the compound had burned with the building. They should be out of the jungle in a day or two anyway.
A couple of days, just him and Clay. Hale-fucking-luyah. Clay used to hang out with Roque even when they weren't fighting, and sometimes with Pooch. Sometimes all of them, in a 'we're-all-buddies' sort of way. Which they were, and Cougar was included in that, in the love that united them all.
Which hadn't much to do with the way he felt, specifically, about Clay.
Aisha had changed the dynamics of the group, especially when she first turned up. Clay had spent less time with them, and more with her, alone, fucking. That was fine with Cougar. It made Clay happy, even though Cougar couldn't guess what Clay saw in girls who beat him up and messed him up. It made Clay as happy as he ever got, and that made Cougar happy, too.
Except, right now, Clay was cantankerous, grumbling about having to get out of the fucking mountains on foot, with a two year old map that was scarce on detail and heavy on fantasy. There was no phone service, no food, and too much heat. Not to mention the snakes, the bugs, the cliffs, the dead ends, the rebels, the other rebels, the lack of reliable trails, and the total absence of cold beer.
"What are you grinning at?" Clay asked, glaring at him.
Cougar shrugged. "We're alive."
Clay looked at him sharply. Cougar stopped walking, because he liked it when Clay looked at him, really focussed on him, like the moment when you have something caught in the cross-hairs and you can just forget the rest. He looked at Clay and Clay looked at him. Cougar's smile got even broader.
Then Clay laughed, one of those real guffaws that came from the belly. "Shit, yeah," he said.
It wasn't safe to stop in daylight. They heard some gunfire over the ridge, but it didn't come closer and they didn't go to look. They lurked under trees when three copters went over, then went away again. They heard voices, but it turned out to be a mother and two children tending goats, who never even knew Clay and Cougar were there.
It wasn't safe to stop at night, either, but sure-footed Cougar was starting to slow down and even to stumble by midnight, so Clay said, "We camp here."
It wasn't a bad spot: sheltered by an outcrop of stones, with a good wide view - though without the flashlight, all they could see was stars above and darkness below. In daylight, they could probably see all the way to the lowland farms. Best of all, there was a stream of fresh water, which they'd been hearing intermittently for the past hour.
They drank some water and shared some chocolate.
"I'll take first watch," said Clay. Cougar grunted assent. The whole team knew Clay didn't sleep much, especially on a mission. He could go for days without sleep, and sometimes did. Sometimes even when there was no mission. Too many ghosts in his past, Cougar thought. Too much pain behind him.
Cougar sat with his back against a rock. They'd thrown a light tarp over the mossy ground, and it was as comfy and friendly as someone's old sofa. "Nice night," he said conversationally, looking out at the stars spread around them. He wouldn't have said a thing if the others had been around, but they weren't. It was a fucking beautiful night, and Clay was there beside him close enough to touch. He felt like singing, it was so damn good.
"Yeah," said Clay.
They were silent for a bit. Cougar could hear Clay's light breathing, the sound of his body settling more comfortably against the rock behind them. Clay must have wanted to talk, because he said, "How're things with you?"
"Fine."
"Got a girl these days?"
"Not really."
"Don't talk much, do you?"
"Only if there's things to say."
"Times like this, I wonder if it's people who messed up the world. If the planet would be better off without any of us. You think?"
"No," said Cougar.
"It's people bring the bad stuff. Wars. Violence. Greed."
"No. It's all about balances. Good people, bad people. Bad people like the ones back there who enslaved the women. Good people like us, who saved them. We aren't saints, but we put some balance back into the world. The good's there too, waiting to be recovered."
He could tell Clay was smiling, even though it was dark. "You saying we redeem humanity? Us?"
"Yeah, that's it. We do our bit."
"Always knew you were deep. What else do you think about, on a night like this?"
"Think? I don't think, I go with the flow."
"...Grasshopper. I thought you thought about sex, like the rest of us."
"That too. Goes without saying."
"Who do you think about?"
"Used to be Scarlett Johansson."
"Shit yes. And now? Who's better?"
"You."
To do him credit, Clay didn't say anything at all, not at first. Cougar let the silence stretch, wondering if he should have kept his stupid mouth shut as usual. That's how it goes: you get too happy, too relaxed, you lose your edge, you say things you shouldn't to the wrong people, you screw up the balance you've kept all this time …
"Me," said Clay at last, without intonation, just checking to make sure he'd heard right. "You have sex fantasies about me."
"Yup," said Cougar firmly. No point lying now. Time to play this out.
"Why?"
Cougar thought over several possible answers, all of them true. Because you are hot. Because you are the best person I ever met, and the smartest. Because I've loved you since the day I first set eyes on you. How far could he push this?
"Because you're hotter than Scarlett Johansson."
Clay thought about that. It didn't seem to bring him much clarification. "Funny thing. No one ever said I was hotter than Scarlett Johansson before."
"Maybe no one else noticed. Aisha, maybe."
"You've got funny taste."
"No, I don't," said Cougar sharply. "It proves my good taste." Clay wasn't laughing at him, which was hard to believe and more than he'd hoped for, but his pulse was picking up like it did when they were coming up against the enemy and not sure what was going to happen. His throat was dry, and if he didn't seduce Clay now he'd probably never get another chance. But how? What to say? How had Aisha done it? Well, she'd kicked his ass four ways to Sunday, but that just wasn't Cougar's style.
He knew Clay had turned his head, but it was so fucking dark they couldn't see each other. So he reached out a hand and touched the side of Clay's face. He couldn't see, but he knew exactly where Clay was and how he was sitting because he could hear him and sense him and now he could feel him, too, fingers against skin, and he was breathing harder than you'd expect from a man at rest. Clay was leaning against the rock with his legs stretched out in front of him, not cross-legged the way Cougar had been. But now Cougar was on his knees.
Clay said softly, "Prove it."
Cougar wasn't a coward, but he almost retreated. He'd never backed down out of fear in the whole of his life, not since he was a kid and learned that it was the wrong thing to do - the wrong tactics, the choice that led to defeat, bad for the heart and spirit. There was too much at stake here. He'd seduced all sorts of people, rich, poor, young, old, worldly, innocent, good, bad, and everything in between - but this was Clay, and Clay had been the centre of his life for a long time now. How could he handle it if Clay fucked him and then moved on? If Clay never wanted him again... if Clay broke his heart and didn't notice... if this was just a fucking game to Clay....
But he trusted Clay in a way he'd never trusted anyone else.
If he missed his chance, this miraculous chance, he'd never forgive himself. If he retreated out of fear, he'd hate himself forever.
This wasn't going to be about hate. It was about love.
"Prove it," whispered Clay, and Cougar could feel the puff of his breath against his palm.
Cougar hiked a knee over Clay's legs so he was astride him, kneeling on the tarp over the moss and jungle earth, almost but not quite touching him with his body, just at the edge of his body heat.
Slowly, with every ounce of control he had, Cougar moved his face closer to Clay's. He moved his hands to brace himself on the rock behind Clay, one hand on each side of his head. He was close enough to feel Clay's breath against his lips, but they still weren't quite touching.
Even more softly than Clay had spoken, Cougar said, "Clay," and kissed him.
A kiss. He had kissed and been kissed thousands of times, but this was different, because it was Clay, and there was no one in his life like Clay. Never had been, never could be again, because there was no one anywhere like him. Cougar couldn't breathe or think. He thought maybe time had stopped, because this was that important, that good, that heart-stoppingly spectacular.
And his brain was struggling to catch up with his skin, because he could feel Clay touching him, his hands running up his back under his shirt, pulling him closer. The kisses were deep and demanding and their bodies were tight together now. Clay pulled him into his goddamned lap and Cougar's plan of careful and sensuous seduction was forgotten as they fumbled with clothes and angles and zippers and pressed together, cock against cock, breath against breath. Someone - yeah, Cougar - was trembling.
Trust Clay to take command.
Clay rolled him over, moving on top of him, kissing Cougar's mouth and face and throat, his hands everywhere, including around Cougar's cock, as if that was what he wanted more than anything in the world. Which was how Cougar felt himself, but he was groaning and touching and gasping and there were no words in any language. And when Clay moaned out loud it was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, and he was coming, hard and fast and strong, and he wanted it to last forever. He could feel Clay's hot spunk spilling over him and Clay cried out suddenly. If there were enemies somewhere in the bushes he and Clay were two dead men, but what a way to go.
Clay stilled. They held each other. Clay kissed his hands, gently. His face. Cougar was crying a little, mostly out of happiness. Or was it shock?
"Damn," said Clay, running a finger down his cheek. "Next time we do that, we do it in daylight. I want to see your face."
Next time. He'd said "next time".
Cougar said, "I usually have more finesse." Not to mention staying power.
Clay laughed, his rib cage heaving against Cougar's. "A volcano doesn't need finesse," he said, and he held Cougar just a little more tightly.
Which was just fine with Cougar.
After a bit, Clay got up and used a cloth and bit of water from the stream to wash the mess off their bodies. Cougar cursed the cold water but he loved Clay touching him again, and his cock stiffened a little in appreciation. They readjusted their clothes and Clay said, "Can you take lookout duty for a bit? I need some sleep."
Clay, who didn't sleep, mostly.
"Sure," said Cougar, settling himself against the rock, sitting with his gun within reach. Clay put his head in Cougar's lap. Cougar ran his fingers through Clay's hair, stroking his forehead. He felt high on the knowledge that he could touch Clay, and then touch him some more, and Clay wasn't stopping him. He felt like singing, so he did, a lullaby his mother used to sing. Softly, so no enemy soldier could hear.
But Clay, who didn't sleep, was already sleeping and didn't hear the song.
- end -