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“So,” comes a voice from behind him on the beach. Snake turns his attention away from the sunset and toward the man. “I decided to take you up on your vacation offer. You were right… it is hot.”
Snake regards Ocelot cautiously. But when he sees that the man is wearing nothing but bright red speedos and those stupid gloves, his guard lowers a little, having come to the conclusion that the man couldn’t be hiding a weapon on his person. Unless that’s a revolver in his speedos.
“You always did like a touch of the dramatic,” responds Snake, amused.
“What can I say,” Ocelot starts, flourishing his arms out in a mocking gesture, “I never could resist a showdown at sundown.”
Just like that, Ocelot is on Snake, hand on his neck and revolver to his head.
Snake chortles. “And here I was hoping you were just happy to see me. Turns out it really was just a revolver in your speedos.”
Quick as lighting their positions are reversed, Snake is on top, straddling Ocelot, hand heavy on his throat but not clenching. He takes note of his hand scrambling in the sand, searching, in vain, for the revolver that is just out of arm’s reach. Snake helps him by pushing it further away, at which Ocelot’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance. So he spits in Snake’s eye… his right eye.
The tension between them melts and they find themselves laughing at the futility of it all. All of their pent up anger and hatred always leads them straight back into each other’s arms. Always. And they always melt when they get there.
“It really is hot,” Ocelot says, running a hand up Snake’s scarred chest and around to cup the back of his head. Snake lets out a murmur of affirmation, lowering his forehead to press it against Ocelot’s. He moves his hand from Ocelot’s neck to his hair, plays with some of the longer, greyer strands. “And it’s beautiful.”
Their eyes never stray from each other, and from this Snake knows that Ocelot isn’t talking about the sunset or the beach or the waves. “It’s gorgeous,” Snake replies quietly with a smile, looking down at the way Ocelot’s face lights up when he says it.
“I’d missed…” Ocelot starts but falters, as if saying too much too soon would ruin the moment. “Being here,” he finishes.
Snake chortles. “You’ve never been here before, Adam.”
At the name Ocelot gasps, tugs a little at the hair at the nape of Snake’s neck. “Oh? Yes, you’re right. Of course not,” he smirks, pulling Snake’s face down to his own. The motion causes Snake to shift above him, a shared gasp between them.
“I didn’t get the chance to say it before.”
“Hmm?” Ocelot mumbles, distracted by the way Snake’s eye glistens in the receding daylight.
“Is that a revolver in your speedos or are you just happy to-”
Snake doesn’t get a chance to say it this time either as he’s pulled down into a searing and deliciously wet kiss.
Ocelot raises his hips. “I am more than happy to see you,” he says with a devilish smirk, his hand snaking its way between their bodies.
Lower.
Lower.
Until.
“Boss!”
With a shout of his name, the moment is ruined. Snake breaks away with a dejected groan.
“What is it, Kaz?” He shouts back, never breaking eye contact with Ocelot as his gloved hand starts to work him through his trunks.
“You’re needed back on base… where are you?” Comes the disgruntled voice.
“Trouble in paradise?” Ocelot asks with a grin.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” comes Snake’s tight reply, as he hisses out a fuck because Ocelot’s fingers are doing some very interesting things to him.
“I would, actually.”
“Boss!”
Snake grips Ocelot’s wrist and removes his hand from his trunks. “Another time, maybe.”
Ocelot brings a gloved digit to his mouth and sucks it in tantalisingly slow, revelling in the hungry look he gets from Snake.
“Oh,” he begins, stretching out on the sand when Snake removes himself from him, “you can count on it.”