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“No! No! Why won't this stupid thing open?!” Purple yelled, fumbling with the emergency door lock. It was stuck completely; no matter how much they pulled on it, it just wouldn't give. They banged their fists on the door a couple of times, shouting for help, but no one came.
“Relax, Purple, I'm sure it's fine and it will fix itself.” Red dismissed, rocking in their chair. For some unknown reason, they were locked in the security room. Just a moment ago everything was fine, well, besides the arguing of course. Purple’s fists slowly drag down the door, giving up. They turn to look at Red, glare sharp enough it would probably turn them into a pincushion full of daggers. They secretly hope that's what happens (it doesn't.) Purple raises their hands in surrender and face Red, an unimpressed expression written across their visor.
“Well? Go on, kill me then; this is the perfect opportunity for you to.” Purple grumbles; of course they wouldn't go down with a fight, but it's always good to keep the unexpected.
“What?” Red asks, simply staring at them in confusion. When Purple doesn't let up on their “act” Red immediately switches to being offended.
“You still can't seriously believe that.” They wave Purple off, sighing in frustration. Purple clenches their fists, patience wearing thin.
“Why are you even doing this? Are you waiting for something?”
“For the last time, Purp's, I'm not the impostor.” Hearing that nickname makes their blood boil, and they shake in anger. That look on Red's face makes them want to punch it.
“Bullshit!” They exclaim; this was an act to lure them into a false sense of security; it had to be. Red simply says nothing, swivelling in the chair and flipping through the active cameras. A moment passes, another, and nothing happens between the two. Purple can practically feel the heat radiating off of themselves. As much as they didn't want to admit it, Red was probably telling the truth; otherwise, why wouldn't they just kill them? This still doesn't quench their disdain for the other, though.
“Even if you aren't the impostor, you're still a shitty captain who has done nothing but continue to put your crew at risk, and I think that makes you just as bad.” They see Red freeze after that statement, then see their hand visibly shake. Oh, struck a nerve with that one.
“I'm doing what I feel is best, and what I feel is best is following what MIRA tells me to do.” Purple can hear the anger seeping into their voice, and they relish in it. It was nice to get under this fuckers skin after so long.
“Still the same corporate bootlicker, huh?” Purple grits out, voice dripping with venom. Of course, why would they ever think that Red would change? Even after all of these years, Red still lets themselves get walked all over by MIRA, and they enjoy it. Maybe it's the power it gives them; it has to be, because they sure as hell aren't even paying the captain of their ship well. And here Purple was, a chief of security for the company they hate the most, in a ship floating in the vast expanse of space away from home, and worst of all, locked in a room with the person they hate the most. They despised it here, every second of it.
They see Red tremble, practically vibrating with anger, but they don't say anything further. Red takes a deep breath and pulls out their handbook. Purple notices this and comes up behind them, scoffing at the sight of it. They watch as the captain flips through the pages, seemingly intent on looking for a specific one. No pages particularly catch Purple’s eye; they're all corporate slop.
“You cling to that book like it's a lifeline.” The volcano that was simmering inside Red explodes.
“You're not perfect in this situation too, you know.” They spit, chair spinning to meet face to face with the other.
“I'm sorry?” Purple asks in disbelief; sure, they had made mistakes, but nowhere near as bad as Red. Not even close.
“If your stupid fish didn't-” Purple devolves into an unbridled rage; they can feel the flames of each other's fury fighting. Even after everything, after showing the evidence that O2 was sabotaged, that there is still very clearly another impostor, they still believe that the fish contributed to it. Purple doesn't even register the rest of the other's sentence; they don't care to.
“THEIR NAME IS HERACLES!” Purple practically screams, heartbeat in their ears. Reason was beyond gone now; they have the urge to slap Red, and they don't even think they could hold back if they wanted to.
So they don't hold back.
The resounding echo is ear-piercing, and the silence it leaves after is palpable. Red recoils in pain, clutching their face where they were hit. Purple’s chest heaves, lava coursing through their veins. Red whines, massaging the spot while staring at the other with their visor glossed over. Purple swears they see the edges of Red's visor bead up with tears, and that makes them feel something. Satisfaction? Empathy? Maybe both.
“You… actually hit me.” Red breaths out; there’s a different look in their visor. Fear and… something else? They can't quite make it out.
“Yeah, because I've had enough of your shit, asshole.” There's an urge to hit them again, a cruel satisfaction curling in their gut at the thought of it and- wait, why is Red blushing? Sure, they were close before, but actually acknowledging how close they are now is a different story. Purple was leaning over Red, towering even, with their hands firmly gripping the sides of the seat hard enough that they could even see their own veins bulging. Their visors were touching, breaths mingling together; it was extremely intimate considering the circumstance. Purple felt embarrassment creep up their spine and slowly backed away from the other, stumbling as they did so. They felt dizzy, grabbing their head as if they were having an awful migraine. What on earth is this feeling?
Their gaze returns to the sight of Red, who is covering their visor with both of their hands and blushing profusely. Why are they so shy all of a sudden? Yeah, that was a bit of a weird experience, but nothing else besides that. It's when they look down a little further that they see the reason why.
Red was hard, painfully so, to the point where they were leaking like a broken pipe. Purple's heart skips a beat; their breath hitches. What the fuck?
“Are you seriously getting off on this?” They ask, snapping out of their daze. The simmering heat of anger returns, but it's more contained. Red makes an embarrassed noise and squirms to make themselves smaller, but it doesn't work. Oh, this fucker. Purple returns to the front of the chair, pushing Red's legs open.
“I asked you a question.” Their voice is deeper, sultry, and they're not even sure where this is coming from. Red trembles in front of them but still doesn't give a response, so Purple grabs their hands, removing them from their visor. Before Purple can repeat their statement, Red beats them to it, visor glimmering and contorted in an indescribable expression.
“Yes.” They answer, voice high and breathy. Anger bubbles up in Purple again; the fact that Red probably didn't take any of this seriously was infuriating, but the absolute urge to put this crewmate in their place is stronger. They had thought about this more than they would like to admit, but it was a nice way to take out their frustration.
That was imagination Red, though. This is the real Red.
They would talk about this later; for now Purple would play at their little game.
“I'm only going to say this once: are you sure you want this? And don't think I'm going to go easy on you; I still hate your fucking guts.” Red simply nods feverishly; that was the unsatisfactory answer. So Purple hits them again on the other side of their face this time, and the pained whimper that slides out of them is delightful.
“You have words, use them.” Purple growls out, pinching the spot to prevent the other from recovering. They definitely shouldn't be doing this, fulfilling Red's fantasy in particular, but definitely just shouldn't be doing it at all. Too bad they don't really care about the consequences right now.
“Yesyesyes, please touch me…” Red’s pleas babble incoherently; Purple doesn't pay attention to them; confirmation is enough. They let go of the other's face, hands moving to remove Red's uniform. They undo the button slowly, meticulously, taking their sweet time just to watch them squirm. Purple was probably getting way too high off of this, body and mind set alight by an uncontrollable flame. Once it's off, they throw it onto the floor somewhere and judging by Red’s expression, it pisses them off. Purple can feel their pride swell and go to take off their own uniform; it would be pretty hard to explain the stains after all. After resting it neatly on the desk behind Red, they return to their original spot. Purple doesn't even give them a warning before they wrap their hand around Red's cock, stroking it at a painfully slow pace. They gasp and cover their visor again to silence themselves, vibrating with want.
“Whore.” Purple spits, pressing their thumb into the slit to see them writhe.
“Shut up.” Red pants out; it's weak even to their own ears, and probably serves to piss off the other even more. It doesn't work.
“And will you make noise? I'm getting bored over here.” They retort, speeding up their pace just to slow down again over the tip. Red's face heats up as they remove their muzzle, strained moans floating freely into the air between them. Purple drinks up all the desperate sounds greedily, feeling even higher than before. Heat radiates in their gut as they feel themselves growing hard, enjoying this probably a bit too much. Red keens when they flick their wrist, hands shaking as they look for something to ground themself on. They eventually grip onto Purple's back, pulling them closer together. There's a thought to reprimand Red, but they decide that watching the other whine in their grasp is enough. The speed is still too slow, and Red is very quickly becoming impatient.
“Please.” They cry, trembling under the other's touch. Purple swells with gratification and stops stroking them just to hear the frustrated noise that they make.
“Please what?” They respond; the grin in their voice is audible. Red’s visor squints at them, displeased at what they're being asked of. They begged so easily before; what's with the issue now? They simply wait, staring at the captain until they get the idea. Red scowls, facing away from the other as Purple taps their thigh teasingly. Still, nothing gives and Red scowls harder, so they try again.
“I could just leave you like this and go sit in the corner while you get yourself off if that's what you want.” Of course, that would also mean they themselves wouldn't get rid of their problem, but would be more than willing to stick to their threat if necessary. Another moment passes, still nothing as the other ponders their statement. So they back away, and Red loses it, attempting to pull them back.
“Okay okay, just touch me faster.” Red begs, adding a “please” when they don't get the desired response. Purple simply watches the other, too pleased with themself. They unhook Red's hands anyway, much to their displeasure. They step over to the shelf to their left, opening the cabinet and rummaging around until they find the desired object.
“Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to stretch you open, and then you're going to ride me until I cum. If you're good, maybe I'll let you get off.” Red nods eagerly at the idea, visor glistening in the dimly lit room. After finding the bottle of oil, they close the cabinet and return to the captain. They grab Red's hips and pull them closer to the edge of the chair; it would be a bit awkward to do it this way, but they would make it work. They hear Red snicker when they catch a glimpse of the name of the bottle as Purple coats their fingers.
“So that's where the olive oil that Yellow was complaining about went. Say, why do you even have that in h-” Red is cut off when a finger is shoved in their asshole, making a choked noise in the process.
“I'm getting tired of hearing you talk unless you're begging for something, so shut up, yeah?” They state, curling their finger as the other squirms and pants in the seat. Red's chest is heaving, and their visor is contorted in an uncomfortable expression. They waste no time, hastily stretching the other out, uncaring of their discomfort.
Red seems to enjoy it a little rough anyway.
They whine as the finger reaches deep inside of them, curling against their sensitive walls. Purple can feel just how tight they're clenching around it and bite down a praise that was bubbling out of their throat. This isn't the mood for today. When the resistance subsides enough, they slide in their second finger, scissoring it. Red whimpers as they're speared open roughly, fingers digging into Purple's back. They didn't put nearly enough oil, and the captain cries out because of it, tears welling up on the sides of their visor. Purple can feel themselves leaking with every desperate sound the other makes, impatience beginning to set in. Red's muscle flutters weakly around the intrusion, and they try to get the fingers even deeper by pushing their hips back on it. It doesn't work, and they sigh in defeat, that is, until Purple hits a spot that makes them see stars.
The resulting moan has Purple press against that spot again and their cock twitches. Red cries out, sputtering incoherent pleas. They shake out of their daze and return their focus to stretching the other out, purposefully avoiding the sensitive spot. They might be down bad, but they aren't exactly ready to reward this asshole yet. Red whines as the amazing feeling is revoked from them once again and they drip pitifully onto their own stomach. Impatience kicks in again, and they add a third finger too early, but Red takes it, eagerly pushing back. Their chest heaves, pained sounds singing a symphony in the room. As they curl their fingers inside of Red, they truly take a good look at them. Body trembling, face flushed, visor twinkling even in the low light. The sight left them breathless, and they needed to silence their own groan. The feeling of Red’s tight ass on their fingers does everything to fuel their imagination; they're practically drooling at the thought.
Eventually, they decide it's enough after one last curl, and they slip their fingers out. A defeated whine leaves Red before they're forced into a standing position, stumbling in the process. Purple takes their place, grabbing the bottle of oil again and coating their dick, sighing in relief as they finally feel some sort of satisfaction. Red fidgets as they watch them, leaning side to side impatiently but says nothing. With one last pleasurable squeeze, they discard the oil somewhere behind them, returning their gaze to the captain. They pat their thighs, gesturing to the other to sit on them. Red obliges shyly, cautiously approaching as they straddle their hips. They stay like that for a moment, and Red seems confused when nothing happens.
“Go on, you know what you're supposed to do.” Red groans out in frustration, assuming the other would just forget their conditions. They grab Purple's cock, lining it up with their entrance. Purple can hear their pulse beating violently in their ears as the tip presses insistently against the entrance, and a gasp escapes them. Red sinks on it until the tip pops inside and they whine, body shaking. Hands find their way to Red's hips and the fingers dig into the soft flesh as Purple bites back a moan. It's amazing, the tight heat clenching around their appendage. Red takes a deep breath and pushes down further, moaning as they're stretched open even more. The slick drag against their walls is painfully addictive; Purple can't help the whine that slips out. It seems that Red’s impatience kicks in because they slide down a lot faster the rest of the way until they bottom out. Their breaths mingle as they stay there for a moment, both adjusting to the feeling.
Purple gives in first, rolling into the tight, wet heat. When the other simply moans and does nothing else, they spank them. Get to it; it's a warning, and Red knows damn well not to challenge it. Red raises their hips off of Purple's thighs before they slowly sink back down again, head slipping into the blissful feeling. Purple's head is swimming in pleasure, watching with glee as the other willingly spears themself open on their cock. The captain finally finds a pace that leaves both breathless, moaning out into the open air. They squeeze desperately around the other and try to find that spot that makes their mind swim in honey. Purple isn't even entirely sure how long they can last; their orgasm is rapidly approaching. Watching someone that they (mostly) hate use themselves to pleasure someone else has them drunk. It's pure euphoria, better than any handjob they've given themself that's for sure.
Red is truly riding now, bouncing with fervour even as their legs burn with exhaustion. Their cries are full of ecstasy, completely lost in their own world. They're blabbering again, begging for Purple to cum as they nail their prostate each time. The knot pulls tighter in Purple’s gut, heat radiating all over their body. With one last drop of Red's hips, they let out a loud groan, releasing their spend into the captain. Red whimpers, hole eagerly milking out every last drop.
They rest for a moment, chests rising and falling in unison. The air is warm, sticky even, but it's comfortable (mostly.) Purple decides it's enough when they can feel themselves going soft, so they push the other off. They wince as they fail to avoid overstimulation and return to the shelf, opening it to find something to clean up with. They hear Red flop onto the chair with a sigh of exhaustion as they find a rag in the container. After they finish wiping themselves off, they walk back over to their uniform to put it back on. Red makes a confused sound at this and panics when Purple is fully dressed and is about to leave the room. Thankfully, the door actually works now and opens when they twist the emergency release.
“I thought you said-” They're cut off before they're even able to finish.
“I said that I might help you finish, not that I would. You should get yourself sorted out before you get found here.” Purple watches as the other stares at them hopelessly, a perfect dishevelled mess. The unmistakable feeling of pride takes over, and they spare no attention to Red's pleas as they leave the room, making their way to the cafeteria. The distinct and delicious smell of pizza washes over them, and they enter the open space where everyone is eating. Well, except Green; they're acting oddly suspicious. Their face is red, as if they were embarrassed about something and when they catch a glimpse of Purple, they flush even harder, turning away from them.
No one would have been able to see or hear them… right?