#frozen 3 spoilers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolveria · 1 month

Text

On Frozen Wings - Ch 4

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: 18+ only, Explicit

The squad settle on Pabu in a more permanent way, and Crosshair sends some very confusing signals (until he doesn't).

AO3

Hunter’s struggle to wakefulness was slow, a pleasant heaviness on his limbs, his surroundings soft.

That… was unusual.

He opened his eyes, taking in the dim room, gently lit with the morning glow behind drawn curtains. That was the second thing he noticed. The first, he was in bed alone.

Crosshair’s scent was at least two hours’ old, and Hunter sighed into the pillow. His body ached pleasantly, his sluggishness suggesting he’d slept a full night. Couldn’t remember the last time he did that.

The rest of him might be half-asleep, but his cock was at full attention, remembering what had happened before collapsing into the soft bed.

Frustrated, he got up and forced himself to dress finding whatever he could in the drawers, which ended up being an eggshell-colored top to match the trousers, along with a pair of dark undershorts. His old clothes and armor were gone, even his boots missing, and he could only surmise Crosshair was the reason.

After taking a leak and washing his face, giving up on trying to make his hair manageable, he stepped outside. Hunter breathed in the morning air, savoring it. He never got tired of the salty breeze, alive and warm in a way the Kaminoan sea had never been. Still, something about it was… comfortingly familiar. A better version of home.

He leaned against the railing, admiring the waking bustle below, but he wasn’t alone for long.

“Hello!”

He’d heard her coming, but he still blinked slowly at the girl smiling up at him, a bowl of fruit in hand.

“Morning,” Hunter greeted, unsure. “Sorry, Crosshair isn’t here.”

“Oh, I know.” Lyana smiled at him sweetly, as if she found his slowness amusing. “This is for you.”

“Me?”

“Mmhm.”

She offered up the bowl, and he had no choice but to take it. Hunter stared from her to the innocuous-looking fruit.

“You… knew I was here?”

“Of course!”

She offered no further explanation, and Hunter was afraid to ask.

“Thanks.” His response was warmer this time. “Say hi to your dad for me. Oh, and I might come by later, see if he needs anything while we’ve got some downtime.”

“Will do! Bye, Mister Hunter!”

With a cheery wave, she disappeared around the corner. Hunter shook his head with a faint smile of sympathy for Shep. Omega was growing out of her energetic hurricane stage, but Hunter was more than a little apprehensive about soon having a teenager on his hands.

At least, he wouldn’t have to raise her alone.

Hunter didn’t know when Crosshair would be back, so he slipped on a pair of sandals that fit surprisingly well, and headed off to the Marauder, bowl in hand. He didn’t plan on eating but ended up sneaking a few pieces for himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been actively hungry.

Omega and Wrecker were gathered at the lower gangplank when he found them, preparing to go down to the docks.

The hound was also there, and she hopped up and bounded toward him, forcing Hunter to dodge to the side in her effort to get at the fruit.

“All right.” He laughed and patted her head crest. “Settle, girl.”

“She’s just excited to see you,” Omega said, and then gave him a curious once-over at his different clothing. “You were gone all night.”

“Ah… yeah…”

Hunter had no idea what to say, how to even start explaining whatever this thing was with Crosshair, and he looked at Wrecker in a wordless cry for help.

“Uh,” Wrecker said, as equally elegant. “Wherever it was, you look good! Er, well-rested! Yeah!”

Omega frowned at them both, and it was a little unsettling how the expression looked so much like a certain sniper.

Wrecker rallied as best he could, rubbing Batcher’s side where she’d flopped down next to him.

“Oh, yeah, thought I should tell ya. Crosshair left your stuff here before he took off.” He made a face. “We spent all morning at the cleaner tryin’ to get our gear scrubbed. I swear, I can still taste that place.”

Hunter winced, both at the remembered odor, and at the thought that Crosshair had let him sleep in when he should have been helping.

In fact, it was starting to feel like Crosshair was avoiding him again.

“Took off? Where?”

Wrecker shrugged, and then got to his feet since Omega was done packing their supplies for the day. Wherever she went with Wrecker, whether to help out or explore, she always took snacks enough for him and Batcher.

“Probably where he always goes,” Wrecker added with a thoughtful look.

Ah. That would mean a hidden cove and a harried AZI.

“Right, thanks. For that, and for taking care of our gear.”

“You got it, Sarge.”

Wrecker sent a little lopsided salute, and for some reason that set Batcher off, huffing excitedly and running around his legs, and she was joined by a smiling Omega waving goodbye to him.

Hunter returned it with a lift of his own hand, and once they were gone, he frowned up at the Marauder. Sure enough, his gear was inside, the clothes folded next to the armor pieces, cuirass, and helmet. By the way they were neatly creased, he could guess who had folded them.

He should put them on. They needed to be ready to don their armor at a moment’s notice, prepared for any situation.

He just… didn’t feel like wearing it today. Tomorrow he would, and the day after that. But not today.

Hunter left the armor behind and went off in search of the cove that Crosshair had taken to as his firing range.

But… Crosshair wasn’t there. And there wasn’t any sign he’d been there that day, either.

Hunter briefly considered searching him out—there were only so many places he could go on a small island—but he dismissed it. He needed to break this habit of trailing after him, and if Crosshair really wanted to find him, he would.

Besides, he’d already offered his time to Shep, and whatever the man needed done would be a good distraction.

It was, it turned out. Shep greeted him with his usual warm cheeriness, and his compliment at Hunter’s casual wear was enthusiastic enough to make his cheeks warm.

Huh. Between Wrecker and Shep, Hunter might actually believe he didn’t look half-bad.

Hunter didn’t need to worry that he would go the entire day without his sniper. He spotted Crosshair down at the eastern docks while on his way to pick up a couple of shipments of green Gabaki leaf.

Crosshair didn’t notice him, too focused on his own task where he sat on the pier. Hunter couldn’t tell what he was doing at first, but when he got closer, he spotted the basket of loose fiber twine, and the way Crosshair meticulously threaded and tied the strands together until they formed a taut rope.

Hunter had no idea where he’d learned to do that. Maybe he just had. The movements were fluid, graceful, and Hunter paused to watch, mesmerized.

At one point, Crosshair faulted as his right hand inevitably trembled, but instead of clenching his fist and frowning in an inward turn of frustration, he loosened his fingers and took a breath. Hunter watched, amazed, as Crosshair waited for the trembling to subside before he continued his task.

Seemed whatever Omega did while they were gone had helped, and Hunter’s lips tugged upward at the thought.

As if he could sense anyone having a nice thought in his direction, Crosshair narrowed his eyes and looked up.

Hunter quickly turned away, and with a large food trolley rolling down the boardwalk to block his view, he wasn’t sure if Crosshair had spotted him. By the faint, tingling pressure at the back of his neck, Hunter guessed he hadn’t succeeded.

He didn’t want to distract Crosshair from his work—that’s all. He didn’t feel… unsteady about last night. It had been nice. Felt nice, too. And falling asleep next to Crosshair had been the most natural thing in the galaxy.

He just wasn’t sure how Crosshair felt about it, and that was new. There was a time he thought he knew how Crosshair felt about everything.

Forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand, Hunter handed the woman at the dock the bag Shep had given him. From their feel, they were jewelry or shells and beads, and it wasn’t unusual for such trades on the island. The economic system on Pabu relied on goodwill and gifts, rather than any kind of currency.

Hunter balanced the two crates of green Gabaki on his shoulder, his next stop the infirmary to drop off the medicinal herb. He didn’t mind the walk, the chance to learn more of the island and enjoy the fresh breeze, but he wasn’t sure about some of the looks he was getting. Most people ignored him or gave him a polite nod, but more than one person stared at him for longer than usual.

He frowned. Had he worn something he shouldn’t? Something against etiquette, or wrong for the season or time of day. There didn’t seem anything particularly special about his clothes, just that they were thinner and looser from what he usually wore.

The answer wasn’t forthcoming, and Hunter tried to put it out of his mind as he continued his tasks. He didn’t run into Crosshair the rest of the day, though once in a while something tugged at the back of his neck, a familiar feeling of being watched.

For lunch he stopped by the house, only to find it still empty. Hunter tried not to let that fact bother him, and he spent the rest of the day between running errands and checking in on folks who might need help—people who lived alone, were older, or had medical issues.

Hunter also stopped by the house the former clone cadets shared. Stak, Mox, and Deke were all settling in well, better than he would have thought, but they were still young. They hadn’t had a lifetime of being told their only use was to be a good, obedient soldier. And Hunter was grateful for that.

They certainly seemed more excited to see him than Omega and Wrecker were. Not that they minded Hunter there, they were just doing fine without him, combing the island for whatever treasures they could find (seashells seemed to be the choice of the day). Hunter felt a little like the odd man out.

With a small smile, he realized that was exactly it. His family was settling in, genuinely this time, and they didn’t need him hovering over them like an overprotective gundark mother with a den of cubs.

It was a nice change, but still unfamiliar. He should… be fine with it. Not being needed.

Well, perhaps there was one thing left he could do.

That night, after having an extensive conversation over dinner with Shep, Hunter approached the Marauder, trying to fight down the grin and keep his face neutral. Wrecker, Omega, and the hound were there, having just finished their own meal. He felt a little guilty he hadn’t eaten with them, but it was for good reason.

Still no Crosshair in sight, but he couldn’t hide forever. After all, Hunter knew where he lived.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Omega turned to him, halfway up the gangplank and fighting a yawn, and she fixed him with a confused frown. Yeah, he could definitely see the resemblance.

“To… bed?” she tried. Even Wrecker was giving Hunter a look like he’d missed something crucial.

Hunter’s lips twitched, but he kept his sergeant-serious expression.

“Grab your stuff,” Hunter said, arms crossed as he looked between them. “Both of you.”

Now they both looked a little concerned, and he shouldn’t find this as amusing as he did. But he had to get his kicks somewhere, and they’d forgive him when they saw what he had planned.

Wrecker must have seen something in his eyes, because suddenly he grinned—he’d seen that pretend-sternness before, usually right before Hunter presented them with some new weapon or detonator, courtesy of the Republic experimental weapons division.

It’d a long time since Hunter had a reason to gift them with a surprise, and with any luck, this one wouldn’t explode.

Wrecker’s enthusiasm immediately infected Omega, and she went bounding into the ship ahead of him, both of them a whirlwind as they grabbed their meager belongings. They had to travel light while living on a ship.

Hopefully… that would soon change.

After they both left the ship, Hunter pressed a button on his comm to retract the gangplank and close the hatch. Omega watched with a questioning look, but Wrecker was far too eager to pay much attention, and the hound caught on to the joyful air, huffing and dancing circles around them.

Hunter winced a little. He’d forgotten to mention Batcher in his conversation with Shep, but he figured the man knew she was inseparable from Omega. It would be fine. Probably.

He led them down the wide stairs that wrapped around the upper portion of the island, and then along one of the upper ledges where several smatterings of huts were dotted around in clusters.

One stood off alone and higher than the others, and Hunter noted the light was on inside. His stomach fluttered, but he didn’t lead them toward that house, instead guiding them to a larger one that was nestled against the wall. It was close to the path winding to the other hut but gave enough distance for privacy.

It was perfect. He could only hope the others thought so as well as he opened the front door and stepped aside.

“Go on,” he finally said when neither of them moved.

The two shared a glance, as if two children unsure if they were allowed to open a present set before them, and Omega finally asked, “Whose house is this?”

“Well…” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Ours. At least, it can be, if we want—”

He didn’t finish before the three of them, hound included, rushed inside.

Hunter followed at a slower pace, his smile no longer hidden. He leaned against one of the inner walls, just watching as they scoured the place. He’d stopped by that evening to make sure it would even fit them all, and it would. It had been their good fortune to be empty at the time, the previous family having moved to a hut closer to the docks.

Hunter sensed it before he heard anything—a familiar presence behind him, electrifying enough to cause the back of his neck to tingle.

“They seem happy,” Crosshair drawled, his tone almost bored as he leaned inside the open doorway.

Hunter gave a small grunt, his eyes purposefully forward.

“You gave me the idea, actually.”

“Is that so?”

His tone might be flat, but Hunter could hear the curiosity poking out from underneath.

“Yeah. Figured if we’re going to stay here… then we should stay here.”

“No more foot halfway out the door?”

Hunter glanced over his shoulder. Crosshair had him in his sights with his full attention, and Hunter swallowed.

Crosshair was asking about much more than just the housing situation.

Before Hunter could answer—and perhaps point out that he wasn’t the one who kept vanishing—Batcher loped into the room, skidding to a stop just before Crosshair. She sat on her haunches and wagged her tail with sudden good behavior.

Crosshair’s face softened, and he patted the hound on her head. She gave a happy, canine grin and stood up just to plop against his legs, silently begging for more head pats. Hunter hadn’t realized he could be envious of an animal.

“Crosshair!” Omega crowed with equal delight. “You’re here!”

“Of course I am,” he answered, as if there was no other option. “I could hear you halfway down the mountain.”

Hunter winced. Fair enough, they had to work on their volume now that they had neighbors, Crosshair being one of them.

Omega frowned.

“Wait, there’s only three rooms. What about Crosshair?”

When Crosshair didn’t immediately answer, Hunter glanced at him and was met with a raised brow, one that asked, You didn’t tell her?

Hunter winced again, and—all right, he didn’t mean to withhold information, it was an old habit. He should have mentioned Crosshair’s place. He just… hadn’t.

“He has his own house, up the path.” Before any other questions could be asked, Hunter added, “And the third room isn’t for me. It’s for Echo. He can have a room of his own when he visits.”

Omega frowned further, mirrored by Wrecker, and she asked the next question that froze Hunter in place.

“So… where will you be sleeping?”

He found himself without an answer, his brain unhelpfully refusing to supply words. Instead, he looked at Crosshair as if for help. That was his first mistake.

Crosshair’s eyes sparkled.

“With me.”

Well, he hadn’t saved Hunter, so much as he’d slackened the line he’d tossed and let Hunter dangle further down the cliff.

“He means, I’ll be staying at his place,” Hunter supplied weakly.

“Oh.” Omega looked between them. “So, you have lots of rooms too?”

“No. Just the one.”

Crosshair wasn’t even bothering to hide the mirth in his voice, and Hunter’s face had started to heat, grown worse when Wrecker’s brows rose in a way that meant he understood a little too much.

“All right,” Hunter interceded when the silence grew too long, “go on, unpack what you need for bed. You can stay up—not too late.”

He knew that instruction would be flouted by the poorly disguised innocent expressions, but that was all right. They deserved an all-nighter if it meant they got to enjoy their new living arrangements.

“And… Batcher can stay inside too?” Omega asked, hopeful, as if worried this was all a trick that would be taken away at a moment’s notice. Hearing her name, the hound joined in, and both of them stared up at him with big, sad eyes as Omega hugged her around the neck.

Hunter sighed. Just because he knew he was being manipulated didn’t make it any less effective.

“Yeah. Course she can.”

Omega’s face brightened in triumph, but she quickly tamped it down with a contrite look that didn’t fool anyone.

“And… Lyana can come visit? Maybe even stay the night?”

“If it’s fine with Shep then it’s fine with me.”

“Deke, Stak, and Mox?”

Hunter hesitated this time. He had first-hand experience with the mischief young clones could get up to, whether or not they were still technically cadets.

“…Yes to visiting, no to sleeping over.”

“And Phee?”

Hunter again hesitated. There was a time where he’d rather have thrown himself into the ocean than listen to one more of her tall tales. But… after everything that had happened, and the home they’d made here, Hunter considered her one of them now.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “and Phee.”

Omega launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He blinked down at her before resting a hand on her head. She’d grown so much while they’d been separated—she came up to his chest now, and he didn’t know what to think about that. So much time lost with her, and Crosshair, and…

“Thank you,” she said, and the words tugged at a soft spot in his heart. He returned her smile and gave a nod of acknowledgement. When she detached herself from him, Hunter’s vision was suddenly filled with Wrecker, and he barely had time to prepare when the bigger clone picked him up in a crushing hug.

“Yeah, thanks, Sarge!”

Hunter made a small noise, all he could do with his air cut off, and Wrecker set him down with a large grin. Well, at least he’d gotten out that annoying crick in his back.

As the two excitedly unpacked their few belongings, he watched with a sense of lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And then he got that feeling again, the tugging on the back of his neck. When he turned to look, Crosshair didn’t bother to hide the fact he was staring.

Staring was a mild word for how Crosshair burned a hole through him, and the laser focus distracted him from the hand that encircled his wrist. Hunter was pulled out the door before he knew what was happening, but he followed along in the dark, willingly.

Hunter was barely inside the house before Crosshair slammed his palm over the locking mechanism. The door slid shut behind him, and Hunter was crowded against the door, back hitting the surface.

And then Crosshair was on him, greedy lips his neck as his hands roamed with a fervor that jolted Hunter’s hips.

Crosshair’s smug smirk was imprinted against his throat as he pressed him further against the surface, his armor a cruel barrier against Hunter’s loose clothing and suddenly sensitive skin.

He made some kind of noise, temporarily losing the ability to speak, and Crosshair took it as a sign to continue. Hunter didn’t realize what he was about to do, even when Crosshair dropped to his knees, his brain finally catching up when he pulled his pants and undershorts around his thighs.

“Cr-Crosshair,” he choked. “You don’t have to.”

Crosshair hummed thoughtfully, and then while meeting Hunter’s eye, he dragged his tongue along the underside of his painfully hard cock.

The sound punched out of Hunter was so unlike him, a desperate, weak whimper, and Crosshair grinned like the nexu he was.

“Oh, I know.” Crosshair continued to run his tongue over his cock, little kitten-licks that would make Hunter confess to anything if this suddenly became an interrogation session. “But the way you strutted around in that outfit all day—”

Hunter whimpered again as Crosshair dragged his tongue over the dripping head of his cock.

“Strutted?!” His indignation was lost as he groaned.

“Mmhmm.” Crosshair gently sucked on the head, and Hunter swore he could have seen stars. “Showing off that ass like you’re begging to be bent over the nearest surface. Which… if that’s what you want, you could just ask.”

Hunter made another pathetic noise as Crosshair took more of him into his mouth, and it was an uphill battle trying to follow along with his words while he was being sucked into that wet heat. Stars, he wasn’t going to last long like this.

When Hunter didn’t give any sort of intelligible response, Crosshair pulled off his cock. The sniper frowned up at him as Hunter blinked, and his head cleared a little.

“…What?”

Maybe not that clear.

Crosshair frowned further, but there was an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes.

“How do you want it?” Crosshair asked, and the unusual softness was in his tone too. “Me inside you? Or do you want to fuck me?”

It was like laying a table full of sweet cakes and fruit pies in front of Wrecker and asking where he wanted to start first. He was frozen in indecision—everything sounded damned good, and it was almost impossible to make what felt like an important choice with Crosshair’s mouth so close to his weeping cock.

“I… donno,” Hunter finally admitted. “I just want you.”

“Mmm.” Crosshair’s hum wasn’t helpful, his hand slowly massaging the base of Hunter’s cock even less so. “Ever received a blowjob before?”

Hunter blinked.

“You mean… other than right now?”

Crosshair’s low laugh sent a bolt through his already tense groin.

“Oh, this? This is nothing.” And as if to prove his point, he dragged his tongue around the head, threatening to buckle Hunter’s knees.

“Th-then, no. Never had one.”

The look in Crosshair’s eyes was downright dangerous, predatory and sharp.

“Good.”

It was all the warning he got before Crosshair descended on him. He took his cock into his mouth and hollowed out his cheeks, at the same moment his hands stroked and pulled Hunter’s length, every part of him at Crosshair’s mercy.

Crosshair focused on his mission like he would any other, with an inhuman amount of focused patience and lethal determination. It was all Hunter could do to brace against the door and not lose his footing completely, though at one point, one of his hands found its way to Crosshair’s head.

Hunter hadn’t realized how much he needed touch until recently, and he cradled the crown of his head, running his bare fingers over the short stubble. He suddenly missed the silver strands and the opportunity to run his hand though it like this. Crosshair never would have let him do this back then. He was pretty sure of that.

Though with the laser-focused determination on his cock, Hunter wasn’t sure of much. Whatever this was with Crosshair, it didn’t feel like a new, fleeting idea he was entertaining on a whim. It felt like a starving man finally given food after years of neglect.

Hunter’s whine was punctuated by a shout as Crosshair cupped his balls and gently kneaded them, and with a further nudging of Hunter’s thighs, the sniper found what he was looking for.

He couldn’t get very far going in dry, but the pressure of Crosshair’s finger against the pucker of muscle was enough to arch Hunter’s back, and with a warning that was little more than a strangled whimper, Hunter came.

Crosshair didn’t pull away or relent, instead swallowing everything Hunter gave and milked him for more. Tears prickled in his eyes at the overstimulation, but Crosshair wasn’t satisfied until his balls were empty and nothing else would come out of his sore, twitching cock.

Hunter tried to catch his breath, one hand still on Crosshair’s head. He expected the sniper to slink away, make some snide comment before rebuilding whatever defenses he’d had to let down for this.

But Crosshair stayed where he was. Hunter experimentally cupped his face, and Crosshair leaned into his palm like a lonely animal starved for attention.

Hunter continued to hold him like that, enthralled by the soft absence of tension on Crosshair’s face, his eyes closing as Hunter stroked a thumb along his cheek. It was… sweet. Really sweet.

He didn’t quite know how he wanted to go about this yet, but he was beginning to. He wanted to make Crosshair feel good. Not out a sense of guilt or obligation, but it did have to do with the complicated history between them. An apology and a promise. Making amends in a very unconventional way.

Hunter could have stayed like that forever, especially when Crosshair rested his cheek against his thigh, skin warm against bare skin. But then the sniper decided there was too much peace going on for his liking, and he leaned forward and dragged a lick across his soft cock.

Hunter twitched, and when Crosshair did it again, he knew it would take only a few more strokes of that wicked tongue to make him hard again.

“Crosshair.”

“Mmm?” He sounded completely unbothered by Hunter’s tone of warning.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

Crosshair gave another lazy lick, this time along the junction between his length and his balls—and yeah, Hunter was about to have the most sensitive hard-on in his life if he didn’t stop this.

He managed to drag the lanky sniper to his feet, and instead of receiving an expected snarl, Crosshair just gave him a faint, smug smirk. There was also an interesting haze of pleasure to his eyes, as if he’d been the one coming down someone’s throat, not Hunter.

But when Hunter reached for his codpiece, the pleasurable haze disappeared and was replaced by stubbornness, and he batted Hunter’s hand away.

“It’s not about favors, Hunter.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with his own frustrated huff. Why was it Crosshair’s damn lot in life to make everything so difficult? “But I… but you need…”

Crosshair raised his brows, and Hunter blundered his way through his increasing difficulty in talking.

“That’s twice now for me, and you haven’t come at all.”

The eyeroll was more dramatic than it needed to be, in Hunter’s opinion.

“I’m not accruing orgasm debt, Hunter. It’s fine.”

Hunter scowled at any definition of fine where it ended up with him getting mind-numbing attention and Crosshair got nothing at all.

And then Hunter looked at him closer. Crosshair genuinely seemed fine, but that edge of need was still there in his scent. He clearly could use some relief, but he was pushing back and maintaining he didn’t. How long could he keep that up? Why was being stubborn about it? Why didn’t he just ask—

Ah. That’s why.

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, and Crosshair’s own smug look faded away, replaced by suspicion.

“Fine,” Hunter eventually said, though he wasn’t going to leave it at that. Not by a long shot. But since Crosshair’s wary look was becoming more and more intense, he added, “At least take your damn armor off so we can go to bed.”

The wary look remained for a moment, and then his expression shifted, a small tug on his lips as his eyes glinted.

“You like me in my armor,” he purred. “Don’t pretend you didn’t eye me up when I first put it on again. Like you were starving, and I was a tasty piece of meat.”

Hunter’s face fused with heat. So, yeah, seeing Crosshair in his old armor had been both a punch to the gut and a confusing rush to his groin. In fact, he’s fairly sure that’s what had set him off, to seek out Crosshair and demand answers as to why he had returned. Though in hindsight, that hadn’t been the true question—it had always been about why Crosshair had left them. Never about why he’d come back.

Hunter had hoped the once-over he’d given the sniper under his own helmet had gone unnoticed. Apparently not.

And yes, Crosshair on his knees before Hunter, fully kitted out, was a memory vivid enough to make his head spin, but that was beside the point.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need that pauldron blade stabbing me in the eye,” Hunter grumbled, but it was all harmless fluff. An excuse to give Crosshair a stern side eye so they could both pretend this wasn’t another new, strange step.

He was going to get to sleep next to Crosshair. Every night. In an actual bed.

The last few months of his life had been the worst, no contest. There had been moments when he hadn’t seen it getting any better.

And then it had. And here they were, in a place that Hunter could easily see himself calling home.

He must have taken too long to strip off the rest of his clothes, because a presence suddenly leaned against his back, Crosshair resting his chin on his shoulder in a way that was somehow both devious and adorable.

“You really have no idea,” he said, as if they were continuing from another conversation. “The amount of people staring at your ass today.”

As if there was any question of the subject matter, he grabbed a handful of Hunter’s backside, and he nearly squeaked. Thankfully he hadn’t, but the high-pitched moan that came out wasn’t much better.

“And how would you know?” Hunter asked in an attempt to recover his dignity.

Crosshair seemed uninterested in shame or decency as his teeth clasped on the shell of Hunter’s ear, lightly nibbling.

“Because I was also watching your ass, as you damn well know. Unless your senses have dulled over the years.”

He scowled, though the effect was lost with Crosshair at his back.

“They haven’t.”

And then Crosshair moved away, and Hunter’s shirt was pulled over his head before he knew it, and the sniper was herding him toward the bed. Crosshair was stripped down to his lower body glove, and when had he done that? Hunter must have been inside his own head longer than he’d thought to miss Crosshair removing all of his armor and half his suit.

Hunter also wasn’t used to being pulled from those moments of blankly gazing at walls, not with Echo off with Rex, and Wrecker too anxious to snap him out of it. But Crosshair had never had a problem with politeness or decency when it came to Hunter.

He proved that now by practically bullying him into bed, and before Hunter could think to complain, the inviting softness of the blankets shut him up. The faint scent of Crosshair lingered on the sheets, and Hunted wanted to bury himself in them for that reason alone.

“So,” he mumbled as he settled in, “you like the clothes?”

Crosshair clicked his tongue against his teeth, but when he joined him on the bed, Hunter pulled him close like Wrecker used to with Lula. He made a noise of complaint that might have been a hiss, but Hunter ignored it and tugged him closer, resting his chin on top of Crosshair’s head.

The sniper eventually gave up, the defeated sigh leaving him in dramatic fashion, but he still looped an arm around Hunter’s waist, his breath warm and comforting against his neck.

“Yes,” Crosshair finally relented. “They look… nice.”

High praise from the sniper.

“Good to know.”

Something was still missing, and Hunter scooted his legs forward until he could intertwine them with Crosshair’s.

“Happy?” he drawled. “Any closer and I’ll be inside you.”

Hunter let out a laugh that was so low it was nearly a rumble.

Yeah. He was happy. And he would be even happier once he figured out a way to convince Crosshair that Hunter wanted to make him feel good. He’d only been successful the once, and he’d caught Crosshair in a vulnerable moment.

He couldn’t rely on that happening again, nor did he want to. But something else tugged at his mind about that moment. Crosshair would never ask Hunter for help. Not directly. He could find a way around that. He had years’ experience navigating Crosshair’s particular way of doing things, after all.

And they had nothing but time.

Next Chapter

#on frozen wings #crosshunt #crosshair x hunter #cloneshipping #the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbb season 3 #wolveria writes

20 notes · View notes