Written for the "The Squick/Strange Pairing Challenge" (TS/SPC) on the mgsslash livejournal community. Was supposed to be Ocelot/Solidus, but Ocelot took over for me... the backstabber.
Enjoy...?
disclaimer: As much as I love dear old!Ocelot, I sadly don't own him or Solidus, or any of the other Snakes. Probably a good thing.
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"I need to speak with you."
It always began like this.
It hadn't always been like this, but somehow, everything changed.
Things always changed between himself and the Snakes, once they knew the real story of his past; the part that happened long before he was a professional "interrogator" and right after he joined Spetznaz.
The meeting of one certain man, that one man that joined them all in a fateful circle, had complicated his life more than any woman could ever have.
Yamaneko -Rival-
akaisakura
Boy, did he despise saying that. There were some things people say that are out of duty, and others that are from the heart. This line was of the first, but he knew that in the long run, it would be worth it. Sooner or later, the Patriots would reward him, and his long-held dream would fall into his hands. Until then, he had to obey his "Boss".
Ocelot walked down the hall towards the specified room with dignity becoming of a man of his rank. A few guards on patrol saluted him as he walked by. He gave a curt nod back, and continued on his way. Today was a big day, at a very big place. Didn't the Boss have more important things to do? But the man sighed. Maybe the stress was getting to the Boss. Despite his looks, Ocelot wagered that his Boss was still only in his mid-30's. Rather inexperienced in the ways of the world, actually. He had fought in wars, but even that is not enough to make a person mentally capable of handling everything. You can hand a child a gun, but that doesn't make him a man. And if you have the right people around you, even your own lack of experience and/or intelligence could be hidden from public view. Make no mistake; the Shadow Mosses Incident had been something of a teenager's tantrum, a test to see how much he could get away with.
Clank, clank. His spurs clacked noisily against the flooring as he let out another sigh. It was tough being the Boss's "fatherly figure". For all the toughness the Boss showed, he was still like a lost boy on the inside. It wasn't really his fault that he was genetically altered to age at an accelerated rate, he supposed. From the average Joe's point of view, the Boss was a fully-grown, war-hardened 60-something veteran who got elected President, then did something wrong and was forced to resign. Ocelot smiled at the thought of those stupid Americans who believed in their "elected" leader so dearly during that little drama with the Arabs. If they only knew that it was all a set-up created by the Patriots to encourage their faith in "President" Sear's leadership skills -- what kind of hell would have opened up from beneath their feet?
Ah, he was getting off topic again. But one had to live for the little pleasures in life from time to time, right? He willed his mind back to the subject at hand. If this time was like every other, he could expect to perform the usual ego-feeding. The gunman had gone through this enough times to know what he should say and when for the maximum effect using the minimal amount of effort and time. That way, they could both get on with what needed to be done. Today, especially, wasn't the day for wasted time.
Ocelot entered the Boss's private room in Strut I. "Yes, Boss? You wanted to see me?" he asked with his most nonchalant voice.
"Seal the door."
With a few keystrokes, the gunman sealed the door from the outside world. When he turned around, he almost had to look again, to see if he wasn't dreaming. The Boss had stripped off the large power suit and was wearing only his camouflage pants as he sat on a chair against the wall. The scene reminded Ocelot of... /him/, but he wasn't about to show his surprise, of course.
"What happened, Boss? What happened to your eye?"
"What the hell does it look like? Those bastards took my eye!"
Well, this was unexpected. Ocelot almost felt a little pity for the boy in front of him screaming shouts of "that wasn't fair".
Almost.
"Calm down. We should probably disinfect and dress that."
"I can do it myself."
"But Boss, how are you going to do that without a mirror?"
He really /was/ just a boy, after all.
When the Boss said nothing, Ocelot took that as his cue to move closer. After a little searching through the various duffels, he found what he was looking for, and began the tedious process of cleaning out what remained of the Boss's eye. He was skillful at what he did, and at least, if nothing else, war wounds had taught the Boss how to endure great pain while holding very still. The whole process was done and over with within 10 minutes. It could have been faster if he had the right tool for the job, but with only the scalpel they had on hand, well, one couldn't expect to beat a personal record with such an unwieldy tool. Ah, the good old days. Those tried but true techniques of interrogation. The man who had come up with them was a master of the human body.
He took a step back. It certainly felt like a dream -- of a time when he was still young. The Boss looked back at him with a glare in his eye.
"Just like him," Ocelot half-whispered to himself.
"What did you say?"
"You look just like him."
The Boss thought for a second, and considered that fact. "Yes, I guess I do, don't I?" He half-smiled through a grimace at the irony of it all.
"Yes. Now you really are the Boss to surpass Big Boss himself."
"Was there ever any doubt?"
"No, Sir." Ocelot stared at the Boss's face a little longer. Something was missing. He dug around in the medical kit again, and found what he was looking for.
An eye patch. Perfect.
"Where's the damned painkiller? Wasn't there any morphine in there?"
A sigh and a little more searching produced a needle and a vial of morphine. Morphine, a soldier's favorite friend. All he had to do was give a little too much to his Boss, and the brat would be out of his hair, but no. The Patriots would have his life for deviating from their master plan. Best to keep the boy alive until he fulfilled his purpose.
The Boss looked on, scrutinizing Ocelot as the older man carefully fill the needle, and wondered vaguely why he didn't ask for the morphine earlier. Ocelot was thinking thoughts of his own and wondered what else he should probably do to show his "good favor" towards the Boss. The usual would probably suffice, he decided, since he was in absolutely no mood to give "extras" today.
"Hold still," he instructed the boy.
Within seconds, it was over. The Boss rubbed his hand over the areas where Ocelot had injected the morphine, willing it to circulate faster.
"I believe this will take your mind off the pain until the morphine sets in," Ocelot slyly cut in. With a deliberate motion, he firmly grasped through the fabric of the Boss's pants and was not surprised that the body beneath his hand was reacting already.
"Like Pavlov's dogs," he thought to himself.
He slowly moved his hand, massaging the boy and filling him with pleasure, or at least endorphins. Ocelot smiled, a small smile, at two things. It was always pleasant to see someone writhe under his influence. That was part of the appeal, at least to him, of "sadism" as so many people would call his interrogation techniques. The other reason was that the irony was always so sweet. He always tried to imagine what Liquid would do if he knew that his very hand was the one giving so much pleasure to one of his hated "brothers". Actually, somewhere, deep down, he suspected Liquid knew, not that it mattered. The suppression drugs he was taking were weakening Liquid little by little. Soon, the bothersome pest would be nothing more than a footnote in the annuals of history, as if the parasite would even show up. The Patriots weren't about to let the Snakes' existence be known if they could help it. Bad enough with one Snake on the loose (at least damage control was still manageable), but the Patriots didn't need all three of them slithering their way around the world. What an embarrassment, the whole lot of them. They could never stand up to the real thing.
The Boss reached up and grabbed Ocelot's head between his hands. This was usually a sign that he wanted more. Ocelot gave a little mental grimace thinking about how much longer this was going to last. Thankfully, if all went according to plan, today would be the last time he would have to deal with this.
Kneeling down, the Russian undid the fastenings that needed undoing, and extracted the part that craved his attention for the moment, all with a smoothness and grace that comes from extensive amounts of practice. He bent his head down, and took the other man's head in his mouth. It was all rather clinical, the way he always brought the boy to finish, but the Boss never seemed to care. It's not like either of them put much emotion into sex. Besides, sex between them was always about carnal needs. Their "relationship" started only because at the time, hiring a hooker was less than ideal. His Boss had always been a little paranoid that one day, some hooker would turn out to be a Patriot spy, so he had become a hooker's replacement. What a pathetic fool.
Ocelot's mind wandered far off on another tangent again while his hands and mouth worked on autopilot. The moans above him brought him back to a time when he, himself, had been young, just around the time when he was beginning to learn about the more dangerous games a man can entertain himself with. That "boss" had eventually found a more readily available, pretty play toy, who had looked remarkably similar to that blond he had unmasked in Core 1 earlier.
That was also when he had met /him/.
Ocelot shifted a little, knowing that his Boss had probably had enough teasing for now, and it was time to move on to the main event. He felt the Boss's large hands on his head as his fingers stroked his hair and he groaned for more.
If there was one thing he always thought about while performing his duties, it was whether /he/ would have groaned like this. Would /he/ have commanded him with groans, or would /he/ have been more forceful, taking what /he/ wanted? The thought turned him on and off at the same time. While his lust for their rivalry drove him on, he couldn't see himself bowing down to anyone willingly, and even if he had lost completely, he couldn't see himself doing... this.
And yet, here he was, servicing his very rival's progeny. Ah, but soon. Soon, just as the Patriots had promised, the wheels would be set into motion, and soon, they will all be gone, making him the ultimate winner of their rivalry.
Ocelot tasted the bitterness as it went down his throat and heard the boy above him stifle the final groan.
He had sacrificed a lot to get here, but it would all be worth it in a little less than a day.
notes:
- "Yamaneko" (literally: mountain cat) is the Japanese word for an ocelot (the animal). Ocelot refers to himself as a yamaneko, the animal, in MGS3 when he says, "An ocelot never lets his prey escape." whereas, usually, he calls himself "Ocelot".
- I need to write a true Ocelot fic or something!! (uh... maybe I should finish the other fic first ;; ) There's this whole theory of why he joined the Patriots and how he was assigned to/chose to be Solidus's right-hand man that's been swimming around in my head since I saw the Tokyo Game Show trailer... Needless to say, it heavily involves the story of MGS3. Guess I'll wait till I play MGS3 before I go and make assumptions. Kojima likes to play with our perceptions, after all. :
- Ocelot is so clinical... I threw in the idea that maybe before Volgin got his pretty boy play toy, he used Ocelot on occasion. Nothing like sucking up to the boss, literally :D
- As for how his relationship always changed with the Snakes... I think Liquid would've been too obsessed with Solid for him to want Ocelot for anything more than information. But damn, what a great primary source Ocelot is for both Snakes, and a fellow Big Boss hater to boot! ;;
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Liquid watched on with a sort of sadistic glee. This afternoon's tryst had certainly been quite enjoyable, if not interesting. Oh, sure, giving your brother the time of his life wasn't what he had hoped to be doing, but the information he learned from his host was always useful. And that the fool had though that the drugs were working was too funny for words. If only Ocelot knew that the suppression drug was designed to have the opposite effect...
Yes, Liquid was finding this game most entertaining indeed.