When shuffling to find a good place to ambush or snipe an entire base full of Covenant, the dark sky was always a welcome cloak. But when you were being escorted to your quarters for the night, with the one being in the entire universe you owed *everything* to, but could never express it in words, well...
The evening breeze felt nice. The stars and moon lit the walkway nicely.
But the silence of the night weighed heavily around them.
Master Chief cleared his throat, shuffling anxiously as he glanced sideways at his equally silent companion. The towering Sanghelli was going at an easy gait, eyes forward as he was consumed by his own thoughts. The Spartan's naked gaze trailed down that sculpted build to his helmet held ransom under that powerful arm.
He considered things he could say. Excuses he could make.
'That looks heavy...'
No.
'You look tired, let me hold that for you.' Before promptly sprinting away.
Nope.
'You travelled across the universe to save my ass, the least I can do is hold my own helmet.' Yeah, that one sounded doable.
When he looked up, the excuse died in his throat as he found that intense gaze back on him.
Suddenly, the drinks and the heavy gaze made it warmer than comfortable for the Spartan. He diverted from the path, fuzzy on his thoughts.
As the Chief pulled off to the side in a secluded garden, the Elite asked, "...What are you doing?"
The top of his armor had clanked on the ground before the Spartan knew what he was doing.
"I... uh..." John was at a loss for words. Not wanting to sound completely out of his mind, instead of saying 'have no idea', finished with, "what does it look like? Too warm."
The Elite waved off the strange reply, hand gliding through the breeze, "I find the temperature... adequate."
When he turned back to the Chief, he took note of scars on the back of the Demon's hands, the only skin showing outside of the long-sleeved black body suit. He was immediately at the other's side, human hand in his grasp as he demanded, suddenly angry, "What are these?"
John, surprised at the sudden closeness of the other, could only shrug, "Augmentations. I have similar scars throughout the Spartan project, but these on my hands are more sensitive-"
A strangled, whimpering and alien noise shot out of the Chief's throat as the Arbiter boldly caressed the captive hand.
His original intent was merely born out of curiosity, never having seen such deep, and apparently self inflicted, scar on the Demon. His eyes shot upwards back to the Chief's startled blues at the sound.
John had never been intimate with another being. Had never so much as shook hands with someone else without gloves or his armor on. The fact that the Elite managed to wrench such a vocal reaction from him was... unexpected. He knew the scars were sensitive. But he was caught off guard by just how *good* it had felt to have someone else, no... to have the *Arbiter* touch his bare skin.
Hoping to god the other hadn't notice, John tried to will away the furious flush that heated his cheeks. Thankfully, that intense ebony gaze flickered down back to his exposed hand, the Elite barely audible as he inquired, "So this was done to you purposefully, marked by your own people...?"
The Elite's free hand placed itself subconsciously against his own chest armament, echoing the pain of the terrible burn and burden.
"Yes..." The Chief trailed, trying to tug his hand back. He didn't want the Arbiter eliciting another embarrassing reaction from him.
The Arbiter didn't miss a thing, however.
That gaze was back on the Chief's face. Taking in the current pink flush, his own physical touch, and connecting the dots.
John had a sinking feeling.
Before the Chief could pull his hand back the Sanghelli brushed his free hand purposefully over the scar once more.
With anyone else, this wouldn't have been a problem. But he had craved a physical kind of contact with this particular Elite for far too long. Had hidden it far too long, for his body to keep silent any longer. John barely had time to clench his jaw, but it didn't stop the second, sinful moan from escaping.
With an audible growl, the pieces all clicked into place and the Sanghelli had the Spartan shoved against the garden wall, the trees and brush covering them like a green curtain.
"You have been keeping secrets." Thel growled, eyes taking an accusatory light.
John's eyes widened at the sudden turn in events, body sluggish in the drunken haze, his counter moves effectively rendered useless as the Elite used his own body to pin the Spartan's.
Unbidden, Master Chief's mind had dreams, obscured wisps of want and longing, intermingling with images of the Elite. Naked. Between the sheets. Unstoppable heat rushed to further darken his cheeks as he remembered.
Remembered all the hot dreams that had come to him during his cryo sleep, while he lay in blissful slumber in that unforgotten frigate. Imagined scenes where he would submit to the every single animal need the Arbiter demanded of him. Fleeting senses of him enjoying every moment.
A flash of guilt shimmered in those blue eyes before the Spartan's look hardened. He could still salvage this. Arbiter did not need to know.
Need never know.
"No secrets. Told you, they're sensitive." The Spartan bit out in explanation.
That Sanghelli gaze hardened as well, "Truly? And your explanation for your darkening of hue?"
"The drinks." The Chief offered once more.
The Arbiter was deathly still for a moment.
The Chief held his breath. Waiting. Hoping the Arbiter would accept his flimsy excuses.
"Demon?" The Arbiter said slowly, his thumb trailing dangerously close to the scar on the captured hand. He watched as the Spartan's breath hitched, gaze darkening, "Are you not curious why I traversed half the galaxy to find you?"
"You're a good soldier. A loyal friend. I didn't need to know why. I just knew you... I could never repay the debt I owe you." Master Chief answered truthfully.
Arbiter was touched, his mandibles working thoughtfully before he answered, "You, Demon, are... irreplaceable. I didn't search for you out of my own loyalty or honor, but because I... I could not live with myself if I had a chance to find you, and did not take it."
"So you did."
"Which is why I do not appreciate your deceitful tactics."
"Well *I* don't appreciate being shoved against a wall."
Arbiter's gaze narrowed, "You do not yet know the meaning of the word."
"Is that a threat?" Master Chief growled.
He was slightly tipsy, but he was not completely incapacitated. He could take whatever the Arbiter could-
Then there was that thumb over his scar again.
And the Chief barely bit back the moan.
"There." The Arbiter's tone was clipped, as if he was barely restraining himself from simply pounding the other against the wall, "Do you see?"
"FINE." John admitted, much to the Sanghelli's surprise. His breath ragged as he growled, "I've always admired you."
"Just *admired*?" The Arbiter pushed.
"Do you want to fuck or not?" Master Chief evaded with another growl.
Smirk to his mandibles, the Elite descended on the pinned Spartan. He did NOT need a second invitation.