Raven stomps through the echoing, metal halls of the ship back to his bunk. He's seething, and doing his best to hide it; he hates confrontation, he's a professional, and he's trapped on ship with...that man...so starting a fight won't make a difference. And, well...he's rather diminutive. He could never win a physical fight, and he's sure that's what it would become.
"That man" has been making jibes all day, humiliating Raven and generally being a bastard. The taller, round and muscular man seems to enjoy nothing more than seeing Raven go red with anger. Unfortunately for Raven, their bunks are right across the hall from each other.
Raven, sweaty from the concentration and exertion that battle maneuvers always take out of him, wants nothing more than a shower and to collapse in his room with some opera and a book. The thought of these pleasant things makes him relax a little, bringing a small smile to his face.
Aras, of course, went into his bunk and turned up his music, which seemed to Raven like some horrible combination of rock and the sound of cats being stepped on.
Raven, arriving slightly after, winces at the noise. Hoping that maybe he'll soon get tired or go get drunk or...something...Raven turns on his shower, letting it warm up a little while he strips off his sweaty jumpsuit and tosses it in the laundry chute. He takes a nice, long shower, scrubbing himself and trying to pretend that the appalling noise is an explosion or something. When he hops out again, there are no excuses left. He resolutely throws himself on his bunk, however, turns on his own music, and tries to read.
Almost immediately, he hears Aras yelling. "Turn that shit down!" the man sounded out of breath, and Raven could hear the solid smacking noises of the man taking out his anger on a punching bag. Again. His room (and the hallway) always smelled of sweat.
Raven pinches his slender, aristocratic nose between his thumb and forefinger. He considers turning the music down, but...the smacking of the punching bag is in time to the ghastly beat of the music. It's intolerable. Pulling a clean jumpsuit on, Raven crosses the hall and knocks lightly on the door, features pleasantly arranged, trying to ignore the pong roiling out from under the door.
"What?" the man snaps, still punching the bag ferociously. He'd had a shitty day, listening to the pretty little pilot say pretty little things about nothing and never saying what he meant. The boy was driving him up the wall. Men should be straightforward! He hit the bag again, savagely.
"May I speak to you for a moment?" he asks, rather loudly to be heard over the music, pressing his face to the door to be heard. He had, of course, turned his own music off when he left his room--a courtesy -some people- don't seem to understand.
"You're already speaking to me. Say what you want." Aras snapped at him.
"Would you please open the door so that we can have a civilized conversation without yelling at each other?" he asks, a note of frustration trickling into his voice.
Aras grinned a little, pausing his angry workout to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "Come in, then."
"Thank you." Raven smiles a little. "Aren't you tired, after today? I don't see how you can still have energy for that."
"Tired from what? We did shit all today." his lip curled a little in disgust. The soft boy irritated him so much.
Raven's momentary camaraderie evaporates. "Yes, well. I am sorry that I disturbed you with my music...but having it that loud was the only way I could hear it over your...music..." he barely restrains himself from using another description.
The grin reappears as soon as Raven's smile disappears. "My what?" he probed, stripping off the top half of his jumpsuit and leaning against his punching bag.
"Your music," Raven repeats, more firmly. He tries to hide his surprise and shock at seeing the man half-naked. "And if you would please keep it at a reasonable level, I would be happy to do the same."
"I like it loud." he smirked. "Makes it more fun to work out." he pawed the back of his neck, looking Raven up and down.
"That's all well and good," Raven sighs, "but I am very tired after our maneuvers today, and I would like to be able to hear my own music." He finds himself blushing, to his disgust, under the gaze, and has to fight to keep from crossing his arms protectively over his chest--or worse, covering his groin.
"Then listen to it on the bridge." he turned back to his punching bag, fists meeting it heavily, making the bag sway backwards.
"...I can't listen to it on the bridge," Raven says, as patiently as he can, with a hint of a growl, "the bridge is not my bunk. There are other people there, people who do not need to listen to my music with me."
"Does it piss you off?" Aras growled, hitting his target.
"Does what 'piss me off'?" the pilot asks, testily, still trying very hard to maintain control.
"That I have my music up?"
Raven finds himself pinching his nose again, his temples beginning to throb. "It does make it difficult to concentrate, yes."
"Then say what you fucking mean." the man turned on him unexpectedly, suddenly very close and looking down at little Raven.
The pilot recoils--the man smells like, well, a man...and his breath is rather less than desirable. "What do you mean?" he asks, a little more shakily than he might like. "And there's no need for profanity, although I'm glad that you're talking to me and not to your punching bag."
"Tell me how you feel about it without pussyfooting around like you usually do! I'm sick of the pansy-ass way you talk to me!" Aras growled.
Raven's eyes widen, and he finds himself glancing towards the door in case he needs to escape quickly. "I...have no idea what you're referring to!" he exclaims, genuinely surprised.
"You always talk like you like everyone, like no one can piss you off, like you're above it." Aras snarled, putting an arm against the wall on either side of Raven. "But I hear you recording your little diary at night. I can hear everything you say. Why don't you have the courage to say it to my face?" he hissed.
Raven goes red, eyes widening even further. It's true--he keeps all his emotion tightly in control until night, when he records his thoughts and feelings of the day in his log. "I am trying to be professional!" he hisses, trying to recover some dignity. "We have to work together, live together. I don't want to be starting some sort of feud!" He realizes that he's trapped, and his face quickly transitions from red to white with sudden fear.
"You hate me, don't you?" Aras laughed, watching the boy turn white. "You don't have to be professional now, no one else is here."
"Let.me.go." Raven says, as forcefully as he can, though he's trembling a little, with fear and anger.
"Tell me what you think." Aras demanded.
The pilot sneers a little, "Why should I?"
"'cause then I'll let you go, little pussy-cat." he smirked, leaning in further.
Raven swallows hard. "I could order you to let me go..." While he does, as a pilot, technically outrank the gunner, this isn't often recognized. Especially in this sort of situation. He regrets saying it as soon as the words leave his mouth, but screws up his face to look as determined as he can, now that he's said it.
"Stop hiding behind rank and say what you mean." The taller man's elbows were against the wall, his face almost touching Raven's.
"Get out of my face!"
Aras put an arm against the smaller man's chest, pinning him to the wall, slamming him into it a bit. "Why can't you say what you mean?"
"I just did!" Raven says, exasperated. He gasps a little as the air is pushed out of him, glaring up at the much larger man.
"A little, yeah. Try harder!" he smirked.
Before Raven has consciously thought about it, his knee is lifted to hit Aras in the balls. As soon as he's realized what he's done, Raven's mouth opens in an 'O' of surprise, but...it's already been done.
Aras groans, doubling over. After a few seconds, he starts to laugh. He pushes Raven back more violently, pinning his arms. "A little better."
"I'll scream!" Raven says, wide-eyed with terror.
"Then scream." he chuckled.
"For help, you idiot! ...I mean..." Raven frowns at his lack of discression, frowning up at the gunner.
Aras grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall.
Raven does scream, abruptly cut off as he hits the wall.
"What's wrong with you, pretty boy? Fight back!" Aras cried.
The pilot shakes his head, terrified and on the edge of panicking at being trapped.
Aras leaned in quickly and kissed him.
Raven splutters with shock, pushing at the other man's chest, completely aghast and speechless.
"Still nothing to say?" Aras smirked.
"I...you...what are you doing?!"
"What I feel like doing."
"I thought you hated me!"
"I do." Aras agreed. "That doesn't mean I don't want you." he leaned in for another kiss.
"Of course it does!" Raven turns his face away, almost yelling with confusion.
Aras kissed Raven's neck instead, biting gently at the sensitive skin.
Raven freezes, shivering in the larger man's grip, arching his neck to meet the lips.
The gunner continues for a few moments, very amused at the pilot's reaction. Before long, he snickers and pushes the smaller man out the door. "I thought so," he sneers.
***
Later that night, alone in his bunk, Raven is tossing and turning, trying to drown out the sounds of snoring from Aras’ room across the hall. Finally, he stands and groggily exits his room, tapping on the other’s door. When there is no reply but an especially loud snore, Raven tries the handle, finding the door unlocked. Of course.
He steps inside, trying to convince himself that he’s only here to make the snoring stop, trying to forget…what happened earlier.
“Aras,” he hisses, stepping across the small room to the bed. “Aras, you’re snoring.”
No response.
Raven steps closer, leaning over the massive sleeping figure, trying to remember how to make someone stop snoring. He’s very, very sleepy, and the warm bed is…very inviting. After a moment’s hesitation, he slips under the covers, still trying to make himself believe that he’s only there for the sake of his continued sleep. Right.
The pilot snuggles closer to the larger gunner, finding his warm, solid bulk oddly comforting. And after all, the man must be deeply asleep to be snoring so thunderously, I’ll be gone before he knows anything, Raven decides.
Suddenly, a large, hairy arm is wrapped around the pilot’s small waist, and he’s being rolled to face Aras.
“What’re you doin’ here?” the gunner asks, blearily.
“I…ah…you were snoring…” Raven says, lamely.
Aras smirks. “You snuck into my bed naked because I was snoring?”
“I’m not naked!” Raven protests.
“I am.”
Raven realizes this is true just as the other mentions this. “I…why are you naked?”
He feels the gunner shrug. “I always sleep naked, why not?”
“What if we were called for combat or a drill in the middle of the night? It’s happened before.”
“Then I would take two seconds to pull on my jumpsuit…” Aras’ tone implies that he can’t believe he’s explaining something so obvious to someone who was supposed to be smart.
“Those two seconds should be spent running to your station!”
“Then I’d go naked.” Aras yawns, pressing Raven against him.
“You can’t go--! Well, maybe you could, but I certainly can’t report to the bridge naked. I’m only nude when I’m showering.”
“Your loss.” Aras shrugs again. “So what are you doing here?”
“I told you. You were snoring.”
“So? Throw something at me. Ignore it. Most people don’t snuggle into bed to make someone stop snoring.”
“I thought you were asleep!” Raven protests.
Aras is silent.
“…you’re not snoring now,” Raven points out.
“…that would be because you woke me up. Now, why did you really come here? Is it because I was kissing you earlier?”
“And about that!” the pilot says, flustered, “why were you…kissing me. I thought you hated me.”
“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you.”
Shocked, but also intrigued, Raven asks, “…are you asking me if I want to fuck you?”
“No. I’m saying that I want to fuck you.”
“…is there a difference?”
“…yes. Haven’t you ever…?” the gunner is grinning in the dark, very amused.
“No.” Raven has touched himself, of course, especially when he was younger, but that was much the same as eating—you don’t need someone to feed you, you just eat until you’re full.
“Your loss.”
“I still don’t see why you would want to…be intimate with…someone you hate.”
Aras laughs. “You really can’t just come out and say it, can you?”
“It’s vulgar. I don’t see the need—“
He’s cut off as Aras grabs his crotch and begins to stroke through his jumpsuit.
“Ohmy…” Raven gasps.
“I bet I can make you cum,” Aras growls in the pilot’s soft, white ear.
“What do I get out of it?” Raven asks, a little breathily.
“…you cum.”
“Doesn’t seem like enough. How about you’ll turn your music down?”
Aras smirks. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of understanding.” He undoes the lower fastenings of the jumpsuit, so he can reach Raven’s skin. He spits on his hand and begins to stroke the smaller boy, pressing the pilot’s back to his chest.
Raven has a moment of disgust at the saliva, before the pleasure makes him forget all about such trivial things. He’s soon moaning and grinding his hips into the large, rough hand as much as he can, being held so tightly.
Aras chuckles, very amused. “Weren’t you taught about this?”
“Of course I was,” Raven pants, “we’re taught about…intercourse…I’ve simply never felt it necessary—oh god!—to put it into practice…”
“I’m sure you will now,” Aras remarks.
Raven is too busy to speak anymore. It isn’t long before he comes, gasping and rather shocked. Somehow, it had felt much, much better than his solo experiences.
Aras keeps his hand on Raven’s groin, smiling to himself, feeling the little pilot relax in his arms.
“…are we…allowed to do that?”
“Who cares?”
“I do! I don’t want to be demoted, or put in the brig, or…have you done this before?” Raven can’t remember hearing anything about Aras’ sex life, but he doesn’t have any social contact with the gunners.
“Yeah. Not on this ship.”
“Oh.” Raven is a little mollified, but still very confused. Also, he’s finding it strangely difficult to concentrate.
“Is this why you came here?” Aras asks, having undone the rest of Raven’s jumpsuit while he was distracted, lightly running his fingertips and nails over the boy’s soft chest and stomach.
“Ahhh…no…”
“…was it worth it?”
“…yes…but you still have to turn your music down.”
“I will…if you suck my cock.”
Raven grimaces. “I will not. That seems…undignified.”
“If you tell me what’s really on your mind, I’ll suck your cock.”
“I’d rather you didn’t…although I suppose that was also me telling you what I was really thinking.”
“Yeah, I guess so. …can you even say cock?”
“Of course I can! I choose not to.”
Aras growls softly. “Why are you always like this?”
“Like what?” Raven asks, genuinely confused.
“So…prissy. So fake. Like I said, you go around acting like you like everyone, and never saying what you really mean. It’s fucking irritating!”
“Unlike you, I do not have the luxury of saying whatever thought comes into my head!” Raven snaps.
Aras is quiet, sensing that he’s finally found something real. He grins and squishes Raven.
“As a gunner, you have that whole manly camaraderie and brotherhood thing, where you piss and swear and make lewd jokes, and no one looks at you twice. I, on the other hand, must show some restraint.”
“Why?”
“Because…because…well, it would be shocking. And I would be demoted. They would find some other reason for it, of course, but…”
Aras sticks out his tongue, trying to imagine having to live like this boy all the time. No wonder he’s fucked up. “Bleh.”
“I know you can’t imagine it, but…I’ve been taught since childhood not to let my emotions show.”
Aras pats the pilot on the shoulder. “Poor thing. I know what’ll cheer you up.”
A little concerned about what the gunner might have in mind—he suspects alcohol—and a little upset by his outburst, Raven tries to squirm away. Only to feel his jumpsuit being mostly peeled off, and a finger delicately probing between his legs. “Agh! What are you doing?!”
“…I thought you said you knew about sex,” Aras laughs.
“I know about intercourse! And, well, I know that the anus has a great deal of nerve endings, and that stimulation of the area can be…ohmygodyes…” The pilot falls silent as the finger slowly presses harder against his opening.
Aras’ cock is quite hard, but he’s learned patience. And the pilot is entertaining enough that he’s willing to wait. A little.
Raven is soon moaning anew as the slick finger inches its way up his hole, flicking and curling as it moves. “Why does it feel so good?”
“Dunno. It just does. …or so I’m told.” Aras loves feeling the soft heat of the boy’s insides, and can hardly wait to fill them with his cock.
Raven suddenly becomes aware of the thing poking him. “Ah…what about you?”
“I’ll be alright,” the gunner purrs. “Or you can take care of it later.”
“…you’re not going to…?”
“Not tonight.”
“How will it fit?!” Raven asks, feeling the contours of the thing against his back, comparing its size to the pressure of the finger inside him and not being able to imagine anything bigger.
“Oh, it’ll fit. But not tonight.”
Soon, Raven has cum again, and is contentedly curled in Aras’ arms, fast asleep.
Aras jerks off quickly, making sure to get as much as possible on the sleeping pilot, before grinning and falling asleep beside him.
***
“I’ve been taught since childhood not to let my emotions show.”
The words run through Raven’s head, over and over, bringing a memory with them.
“Make us proud, son,” his father says, brows arched, no sign of sadness. Mother hadn’t been allowed to come, Father had been concerned that she might show too much emotion.
“I will daddy—father…” the boy answers, ashamed of his childlike wording. He’s eight years old, much too old to say ‘daddy’. Besides…
With a firm clap on the shoulder, the way men show affection, his father says goodbye, before getting back in the vehicle and closing the door.
The boy is left staring up at the building that will be his new home, until he’s old enough to be assigned to a ship—the Academy. He swallows hard, grabbing the one, small bag he’s allowed to bring from home, and steps through the doors.
He finds himself in a large lobby, filled with other boys and the occasional girl, all the same age as him, all wearing the same look of poorly concealed terror, clutching the handles of their bags. Despite their natural instincts to size each other up, to look for friendly faces, it has been drilled into them all by their parents that these are not friends. These are rivals: for promotions, the best ship placements.
“Line up,” an adult voice commands. While not the barking sergeants of the gunners, ready to call them maggots and make them do push-ups, the man addressing them is no less intimidating and demands no less respect.
The children shuffle into line, each trying to hide behind someone else without seeming to be hiding. There is the occasional bold one, or one who had an especially rigid parent who beat them into having a little more discipline than the others, standing at attention, but that doesn’t mean they will be the most successful.
The boy stands in line with the others, not hiding furthest from the speaker, but not closest to the front.
“You,” the officer says, in his quiet voice that demands silence to be heard and commands obedience. He points at the boy.
The boy feels the children on either side of him take a step back, not in unison, but still leaving him centred and alone. He swallows hard again and fights to raise his eyes, then his head, to make eye contact. “Yes, sir,” he says, as calmly as he can.
The man assesses the boy, coolly. “Your name is now Raven.”
The boy hadn’t been told about this practice, but he closes his mouth tightly so his protest can’t escape, and he nods.
The man continues down the line, naming each child in turn.
All too soon, the black locks that Raven, in later years, decides his name must have come from, are shorn off completely, leaving only a fuzzy stubble. He will have to earn the right to have hair, by advancing through the ranks and proving himself through his studies. At first, hair is a great motivation to him, and being able to wear a different uniform that doesn’t proclaim him to be new. He focuses on these small, insignificant details, these crumbs of control, and begins his climb towards recognition.
