Shhh... It's a Secret.

A Megaman Classic/Megaman X crossover by Neo Qwerty

Just a little hiss in the darkened room. Why dark? Who knows. Maybe because they don't want to see eachother's faces.

"Don't think for a second that it's because I'm going back on my—"

Blues is interrupted in the middle of another stupid, useless self-comforting and self-righteous speech, because Forte's tired of hearing these. An odd shape gets pushed in Blues' open mouth, and he makes a startled and angry noise, trying to shift out from under Forte. When did he get so heavy? No, no, maybe it's just that he's strong enough to pin him down.

Some sort of strap tugs at the corners of Blues' mouth, and he feels Forte tie something up behind Blues' head. The fingers then go back to the thing in his mouth, setting it up blindly, and Blues tries to guess what it is to the best of his abilities. It's holding his mouth open, but his tongue can move past and try to push Forte's fingers out.

"Nnngh… 'or'eh…"

"That's for keeping you from both launching into your stupid spiels, and holding back on showing your weakness."

Forte leans back, gazing over Blues with narrowed eyes, not missing the odd shudder that races down his back. One of Blues' hands raises from the ground and reaches for his mouth, and Forte slams it right back on the ground. He holds it there with a vice-like grip until Blues surrenders and stops trying to pull it away.

There's still one more thing, though. On an impulse, Forte grabs onto the old, ratty scarf, and undoes the complicated knots holding it loosely around Blues' neck. The other starts protesting, making near-unintelligible noises courtesy of the ring-gag, but it's silenced the second shades get knocked off his face with a swat of the hand.

"Glrh—! Ow, 'hit, hnoje!"

Blues doesn't dare raise a hand to his face again, even to rub the bridge of his nose, although he jumps when soft darkness falls over his sight. And without the visor, he's partly helpless. Probably part of what Forte wants. Blues' own scarf securely tied around his head, Forte lowers his hands down Blues' arms, digging his fingers into the elbows. It drags another uncomfortable sound out of Blues' throat, and Forte lowers his head to whisper as he shifts his weight off of Blues' legs.

"Your legs. Spread them."

With another very visible shiver, Blues obeys that order, shifting on the ground and sliding his legs apart, until Forte settles down between them. And it's then that it becomes obvious that Forte's pelvic armor is off, because their bodies fit together just a little better than they would have with it. But it's still very impersonnal, with Blues' grey jumpsuit still between the two of them, and the only piece of armor that Blues doesn't wear being his helmet.

Not that he'd expect anything intimate. Forte starts moving first, more hesitant now that they've gone this far, and Blues waits a few seconds before shifting as well. There's false starts, clueless fidgetting; two bodies trying to fit against eachother as best as they can, while Forte growls out commands and Blues makes quiet sounds.

Finally they settle down in a position Forte deems acceptable, and he starts grinding hard against Blues' right thigh and his ass, holding him pinned down by the elbows. There's not a lot Blues can do at that point, beyond just resting his forehead on the ground and feeling the faint thud when their bodies clumsily crash together. Still, he moves his left leg and tangles it with Forte's, breathing heavily, and ignores Forte snapping out in favor of feeling his jumpsuit rub up against conduits.

"Blues, get your leg out of my way!"

"Gh… go 'o hell…"

That strange, fuzzy tingling is building up, slowly, and Blues has no intention to cater to Forte's every whims just because… Forte squeezes Blues' elbows and pushes down as he slides up, but all that does is force Blues to take in a sharp gasp of air, and squeeze Forte's leg harder between both of his. That tingling pressure augments, and Blues shifts just enough so his cheek rests on the ground now, letting Forte do most of the work.

It's a bit surprising that neither of them make any sounds, even as Forte slides and pounds against Blues, beyond the occasional gasps and huffs of breath, but at the same time, it isn't. The two of them freeze, at some point, but after a lowly growled "what the fuck…" and the first true, pleading noise Blues makes, Forte resumes his motions with a dismissive snort. The tension seems to rise, something subtle between Blues and Forte augmenting it, and odd sounds stream out of Blues' wedged-open mouth.

Music. A stuttering sequence of notes, and Blues doesn't really seem aware that he's vocalizing like that, even through his first breathless murmurs. He's so close, so close that he doesn't think about anything, and he doesn't quite catch on that he's whistling. Not until after the electrical storm roars past him, with Forte's loud, slightly strangled yell still ringing in his ears, and Forte's heavy weight over Blues' own body…

"…You really whistle through anything, do you."

Forte's sounding a bit baffled, for once, but Blues can't tell how much of it comes from the comfortable stupor, and how much comes from the thrilling that Blues still holds up. Not that Blues gets much time to ponder it… Forte's weight lifts from his body, the cool air making Blues shudder, and he lays still as Forte's footsteps fade away.

"Don't think this will happen again. And don't even try to tell someone else about this."

Blues shifts, nodding with his cheek still against the cold floor, and continues whistling with contentment. A secret, huh? He can deal with that. Blues doesn't wonder why he doesn't bother dragging himself up, why he lets himself go to sleep right there, still sprawled and with his body twisted just like Forte held it down…

Probably because he's not really there. These advanced minds can really be amazing, sometimes. His lets him daydream.

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