Bloodhound shifted from foot to foot in the elevator, anxiously waiting to reach the 12th floor. They stared at their reflection in the mirrored walls. Today, they had foregone the full helm and wore only their goggles and respirator. Their hair was artfully braided back away from their face, the rest allowed to cascade loose over their shoulders in an auburn wave.
It wasn't often that they dressed so informally - jeans and a T-shirt topped with a hoodie, but usually, when they came here, they felt at ease. Recently though, worry had been gnawing at them, not permitting them to relax. Walter had been slow to answer their messages the past few weeks, and the last two days there had been no response at all.
They more than most understood the need for space, time alone to recharge through reflection and meditation. However, this was unlike the man they knew and had grown fond of - he was many things, but quiet was not one of them. With the recent addition of Mad Maggie to the Games, the timing was no coincidence.
The elevator slowed and dinged, opening to a short hallway lined with potted ferns. They approached the door at the end of the hall, crouching to touch the neglected plants. Their tiny leaves had begun to turn brown and curl from thirst, leaves shaking free at their gentle prodding.
Bloodhound stood and knocked on the door, three taps with their bare knuckles, and waited. When there was no answer, they leaned closer to the door to listen. The noise of a TV was audible, faint, but present. Harder this time, they rapped their clenched fist against the metal.
"Walter," they said loudly. "Let me inside."
They heard the clicks of locks being unlatched, the deadbolt sliding. The door opened inward and Walter leaned against the frame heavily. He ran his hand through his unkempt hair, greasy and unwashed, before sliding it down to rub his cheeks, shadowed from lack of shaving.
"Hey, Houndy," he said, his voice rough, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Bloodhound grimaced at the sight of him. The bags under his brown eyes were deep - late nights or poor sleep, perhaps both - and the white tank top that he wore looked sweat-stained as if he had worn it for several days. The same could be said for his blue flannel pajama pants, marked with a caked-on splotch likely from spilled food.
"Walter," they said, reaching their hands up to cup his face. They brushed their thumbs lightly over the tops of his stubbly cheeks. "What has happened to you, krúttið mitt?"
Walter lifted his hand and placed it over one of Bloodhound's, leaning into it. "It's been a rough coupla weeks." He stepped back to allow them in, then closed and locked the door behind them. "Didn't mean to worry ya."
Bloodhound looked around the apartment in dismay. His couch was covered in crumpled-up blankets and a pillow. The coffee table in front of the TV was littered with beer cans. In the kitchen, the recycling bin was overflowing with even more crushed cans and empty pizza boxes.
"Sorry - the place is kind of a mess now," he gestured helplessly.
"You have not cared for yourself as you should," they accused gently, cocking their head to the side.
"Reckon I haven't." He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. His gaze rested on the dirty couch and he frowned. "Just gotta pull myself together. I'll be right as rain before ya know it."
They knew the man better than this by now. The pain in his face was clear to see, the tension in the corner of his eyes, the line on his brow, the tightness of his mouth. "How long has it been since you last washed?"
Walter pulled a face, trying to make light of the question. "Too long, prob'ly. Why, can ya smell me that strongly through all that?" He motioned towards their respirator, raised his arm, and lowered his head to his armpit. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"That is not what I meant," Bloodhound said softly. "Go, now, then. You must not neglect yourself."
"After you came all this way? I'd be a shit host to leave ya here while I shower."
"It would...ease my mind, a little, to know that you have done this." Bloodhound clasped their hands in front of them, wringing them together. "I have been concerned about you, Walter."
"Ay, don't get mushy on me," he replied, leaning forward to squeeze their shoulder. "You've twisted my arm, my good one at that," he tried to joke again but sighed at Bloodhound's steadfast posture. "I'll go. Make yourself at home." He patted them and stepped into the bedroom.
They kicked off their boots by the entranceway and looked around the room with a sigh, surveying the disorder that surrounded them. If they were going to make themself at home, it would require a little tidying. Bloodhound turned off the TV - no need for mindless background noise. They located a trash bag from under the sink and began collecting the loose cans around the couch, pulling miscellaneous wrappers from in between the cushions and brushing the crumbs off. They found a towel and wiped off their countertops and table, sticky from spilled beer. It was a small thing, they thought, but perhaps it would make Walter feel a little better. A clean space laid the groundwork for a calm mind.
Bloodhound walked into the bedroom. They eyed the messy, unmade bed and tutted - there were even more cans on the bedside table and the dresser. Later, they would have to have a conversation with him regarding his drinking habits. The laundry bin was overflowing with dirty clothes. His blankets were bunched up at the foot of the bed, pillows tossed about, a few on the floor. They heard the shower running in the next room, satisfied that Walter was at least heeding their advice. It was a start. They quickly shook out the bedcovers, discovering a few more stray snack wrappers. They clicked their tongue in disapproval and tossed them into the trash bag. The blankets now laid straight, they bent to put the pillows into place.
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around their waist from behind, hips pressed against theirs. Bloodhound jolted in surprise and turned in Walter's grasp to face him. He looked like a new man, his skin clear, cheeks pink and clean-shaven, mustache neatly trimmed. His hair was tousled and damp, giving him even more of a roguish appearance than usual. And the smell - clean and fresh, like the first breath outside after the morning dew had collected on the grass. He had used the aftershave that they loved so much that lingered on their skin and clothes long after they left his embrace. They swallowed hard, realizing that he was only clad in a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Their graceful fingers reached up to the swell of his pecs, grazing the dark hair that covered his chest.
"Look at you, all sweet 'n' takin' care of things for me," Walter said. His hands moved to their respirator, gently unlatching the sides with a small hiss of rushing air.
"You would do the same for me if I required it." Their pink tongue poked out and licked their lips, scarred cheeks now exposed. They looked to the side, eyes downcast. There were very few who had ever seen their bare face, and even fewer that they would allow to remove any part of their mask. But Walter was a trustworthy man.
Walter briefly traced his thumb along the outline of their moistened lips, satisfied at the way they parted slightly at this touch with a faint trembling exhale of warm breath. His mechanical hand slipped lower to grab a handful of their firm bottom. At this point, the towel was doing very little to conceal his arousal. He pulled Bloodhound close until there was no space between their bodies, his erection obvious and firm against them.
"Now this doesn't seem very fair to me," he started, fingering the hem of their hoodie. "I'm barely dressed and you're all covered up. I'm thinkin' we're gonna have to change that."
"Walter..." they breathed. His touch was intoxicating, and they felt coherent thoughts begin to slip away.
"Can I take off your goggles today? I wanna see all of ya."
Bloodhound nodded, their heart thumping hard in their chest. Walter had seen their bare face before, but still, they did not always wish to reveal themself. This time, they would allow it for his benefit.
He gently lifted the goggles over their head and they blinked as their eyes adjusted to the change. "There are those gorgeous green eyes of yours," Walter murmured, slipping his hand in their silky tresses. He pulled Bloodhound in towards him, finding their lips, his mustache tickling their skin. At this closeness, his scent overtook their senses, bringing forward in their mind all the times they'd been intimate, their many nights shared in passion.
They tasted the mint of mouthwash and opened their mouth to allow his tongue to slip inside, swirling theirs against the welcome intrusion. Bloodhound let out a soft sigh into his mouth and their pants grew tighter - they would never tire of this, the feeling of his lips pressed to theirs. Their face warmed when the metal hand began unfastening their belt, precise robotic movements making quick work of it. Walter's mouth moved down, trailing kisses along their jawline to the side of their neck. They instinctively tilted their head to the side, allowing him full access, exposing their throat - a sign of trust. He bit and sucked lightly, bringing a ruddy color into their fair skin.
He tugged their hoodie and T-shirt off to reveal their lithe figure. His chest tightened at the sight of them - their body toned and hardened from decades of fighting, but still slender and graceful. He guided them back into the bed, their knees bent over the edge, feet on the floor.
A small wave of anxiety lapped at the edges of Bloodhound's being as they looked up at him. To them, their scarred body was a disfigurement - something to hide. It represented their shame and served as a daily reminder of their failings to protect those they loved most.
"God, you're beautiful," Walter said as his hungry gaze rested on their torso, temporarily erasing any trace of that insecurity. With his missing eye and prosthetic arm, he knew well what it was like to have a body that was different from the others. He, too, had old wounds and painful reminders from battles long past - nothing could change how perfect Bloodhound looked to him right then.
"Th-thank you, Walter." Their face flushed more warmly, and their hands flew up to cover their embarrassment. They gasped as Walter's metal hand caressed the tight landscape of their abdomen and sides, fingers following the divots in their chiseled musculature. Goosebumps erupted across their body and their nipples hardened in response.
"Aw, don't cover yourself, Houndy," he said and let his towel fall to the floor.
The man had no shame, clearly. Peeking between their fingers, Bloodhound caught sight of his thick cock, standing at attention among short, dark curls. Walter grabbed their jeans and underwear and tugged them over their hips, down their legs, and let the garments fall into a pile on the floor. He crawled up onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress on either side of their hips.
Walter gripped their wrists and pulled them away from their face to hold them down on either side of their head, a crooked smile on his lips. Their auburn hair was splayed out against the dark covers, some of the braids loosened, mossy eyes meeting brown with a shy reluctance.
"I said I wanted to see all of ya, today, and I bloody meant it." The man's voice was stern but gentle.
His firm words sent a shiver through their body, head to toe - they loved when he was soft and patient with them, but sometimes they liked when he took charge like this. Walter bent down to kiss each of their crimson cheeks, then released them. He trailed kisses down to their chest and sucked one of Bloodhound's nipples into his mouth, bringing forth soft sighs from them. Those sighs turned to quiet, barely perceptible moans when he flicked it with his tongue. He wrapped his large hand around their cock which prodded his belly and left a sticky drop of arousal there. His fist moved up and down their length slowly, gently, and they rolled their hips up into his hand.
"There ya go," he mumbled in between kisses along the scars of their chest, the deep gouges and lines that cut across the muscles. Maybe if he pressed enough affection into their skin, they would finally see what he did. "That's it, darlin'. You're safe with me - don't be shy, now." He moved down the hunter's body, his lips barely leaving their pale skin as he settled onto his knees next to the bed, planting more kisses on their inner thighs. With a barely-there touch, he stroked their lower tummy.
"Great view from down here by the way," he said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.
"Why must you say these things?" Bloodhound asked, squeezing their eyes shut, but their smile betrayed their happiness at his words. Their flush spread to their neck and chest - they were burning up from the man's admissions.
"I love seein' you turn all those pretty shades of red." He kissed the base of their cock, then let his tongue trail up to the tip. "But it's the truth, every word." He took one of their balls into his mouth gently, his hand moving up and down their hard length. He brought his lips to the top of their shaft, flicking the underside and tasting the salty precum.
Bloodhound's calloused fingers quickly found their way into his black and white streaked hair, grabbing the still-damp locks. He sank his warm mouth onto them.
"Gods," they groaned as his tongue cupped them and swirled around them.
Walter pulled back for a moment and reached into the bedside table. He pulled out a small bottle and opened it with a quiet 'click.' He put a small amount of the slick liquid on his finger and rubbed it around their tight entrance, adding a little more to his finger. Carefully, he began to push the digit forward into them to the first knuckle and returned his mouth to their cock.
"Fokk," Bloodhound gasped, their breath quickening, pushing their hips forward into his hand - they wanted more of him, all of him. They continued to guide his head down to bury themself in his throat.
Walter chuckled, the vibration of the laugh rumbling around their cock. He added a second finger, gently probing in and out of their ass while he took their cock deeper and deeper in his mouth until his lips touched the skin among their short red hairs. They rolled their hips up to gently fuck his mouth and groaned quietly. Walter's thick fingers kept perfect pace with his mouth. The familiar hot longing, the hazy heat of desire tightened inside of Bloodhound.
When he finally pulled away and removed his hand, he saw their green eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust. Their chest rose and fell, their breaths coming more quickly.
"Please Walter," they said, reaching their hand towards him weakly. "I-I want you."
He smiled again, softly this time. "That right?"
"Mmhm," Bloodhound hummed and sat up to swing their legs onto the bed. They turned to lay their head back against the pillows.
Walter grabbed their hips and motioned for them to turn over. He hauled their hips back and up into the air towards him. His hands grazed their sides, under and around the curve of their buttocks before re-slicked fingers found their way back inside them. A third finger was added to their ass, stretching and preparing their body for what was to come.
"You're taking my fingers so well, love," he praised, mechanical hand squeezing their bottom. "You ready for me?"
"Yes," they sighed, their face pressed into the pillows. The feeling of his fingers and gentle words was one of their favorite combinations - he always knew just what to say to stoke the fire within them.
Walter dropped a generous amount of lube into his palm, making sure to coat the entire length of his cock. He placed the tip right at Bloodhound's entrance and leaned his hips forward slowly. The head popped through the tight ring, but he paused at the whine that passed his partner's lips. He studied their face to gauge their reaction, making sure it was not pain crossing their features.
"Do not stop - please," they mumbled. They felt the exquisite ecstasy of the stretch as his cock filled them completely, inch by inch, their body willingly accepting all of him. But he was moving so slowly - it was delicious torture. "I need more."
"You'll get more, don't you worry. I don't wanna rush this." After he finally bottomed out, his hips were pressed firmly against their bottom. He waited like this for a moment, seated completely inside of them. "Fuck, you feel so good, Houndy. I missed this - missed you."
Bloodhound closed their eyes in bliss. "I missed you too, elskan."
Walter began to pump his length in and out slowly, pulling out again to add more lube before resuming a steady tempo. His hands wandered every bit of their skin he could reach, kneading their hips, touching, caressing. With each stroke, he felt his tension melting away, the nagging ache in his chest from his worries dissolving.
He watched Bloodhound's brow furrow and their mouth tighten. They bit their lip, desperate to contain the noises of pleasure that threatened to escape. Such a private person, they often silenced themself inside and outside of the bedroom, holding back to remain quiet and unseen. Today, that simply would not do.
"Don't be selfish, love, keepin' all those sweet lil' noises to yourself. Let me hear 'em," he encouraged. He leaned down to trace his fingers along their spine, over the stripes of their scars and earned a louder, languid moan from them. "That's it. There's no one else around - be as free as ya like."
Bloodhound released the tension they held in their mouth, slowly letting go of the strict control they usually kept over themself. Their breath arrived in pants and sighs, coming undone as Walter moved faster behind them. His hips crashed against theirs with increasing urgency. Pleas and begs for more fell from their lips now, pained and needy, and Walter loved every second of it. He treasured and committed to memory every little sound they made so eagerly for him. A light layer of perspiration coated his brow and he stroked their back, feeling their skin damp too from the warmth of their desire.
"Look how well you're doin'," Walter said, his breath quickening. The muscles of his abdomen and thighs flexed with the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh sounding in the room. He pulled out, firm hands turning them onto their back.
They lifted their hips to him and he slid back home, inside their warmth. Their cock rubbed against his abdomen, impossibly hard. He braced himself against the bed with his mechanical arm supporting his weight, his other hand finding its way around their erection, swollen and reddened, begging to be touched. Bloodhound's noises escalated, their voice turning to an aching whimper as they felt their release approaching. Walter's cock hitting their most sensitive inner spot over and over again in addition to his hand gripping them - it was too much to hold back.
"Ég er að fáðað!" Their entire body tensed, shuddering and shaking against the blankets, their nails digging into Walter's back, scratching red lines against the powerful muscles. Their cum shot onto their belly, every muscle in their body tensing as they threw their head back.
"Shit, you're gonna make me-" he grunted as they squeezed around him in tight spasms, pulling loose the string inside that held his lust bundled up. With a few more jerks forward, he gripped the headboard and made one last thrust forward as deep as their body would allow. He unleashed himself as his weight pushed Bloodhound further into the mattress, filling them with his pleasure. The stress and worry left his body in the blinding moment of his climax. He breathed heavily, his awareness returning slowly. Bloodhound gave him a sly smile from below, observing the man's relaxed expression and disheveled hair.
"What're you smilin' at?" he asked, cupping their cheek with his hand.
"It is just a thought." Bloodhound turned into his hand, closing their eyes. "I am rather fond of your appearance, you - you are handsome," they muttered. Unused to receiving compliments from many others, the words felt stilted and awkward to them, though they meant what they said.
Walter patted their thigh. "Such a sweetheart." Slowly, he removed himself from them and reached for his towel from the floor. He wiped their release off their abdomen, cleaning them and himself before he fell to the bed on his back, completely spent. Bloodhound turned and slid their arm over him, their fingers gently raking through the patch of hair on their chest. They looked up at him with wide eyes.
He pressed his lips against their hair. "Thanks for stoppin' by. This was the kick in the pants I needed to stop feelin' so sorry for m'self."
"Do you wish to talk about what troubles you?" their green eyes bore into his, inquisitive, soft, filled with a compassionate understanding.
Walter let out a sigh as he stroked their coppery mane, brushing a sweat-dampened strand away from their face. There was so much he could say right now, but in the afterglow of their lovemaking, all he wanted to do was be present and remain right there in the moment. "Maybe later, ay? I'm just soakin' this in, now."
"Alright. What did you say earlier? You will be 'right as rain,' yes?" they nuzzled their face into the crook of his neck, basking in the scent of his skin.
"I will, yeah." He kissed the top of the hunter's head again, smiling. "Thanks to you, Houndy."
Translations:
Ég er að fáðað - I'm cumming
krúttið mitt - sweetie
Elskan - darling