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Breaking The Tension	By : LithiumCrystal Category: +M through R > Red vs. Blue Views: 2193 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Red Vs. Blue. I get no monetarial gain from this, it's purely a fanwork

Chapter List
- 1-Breaking The Tension
- 1
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It’s just the darndest thing when Simmons finds out that Grif fucks in an entirely different way than his usual lazy-ass demeanour would suggest;

The squeak of indignant surprise Simmons lets out as the lowest-ranking member of Red team slams him against the wall is cut off by a hot tongue forcing between his lips; the slick slide of it across his own is oddly skilful and, if he’s totally honest with himself, not entirely unwelcome. Simmons tries, unsuccessfully to remember how exactly he’d ended up in this unlikely position; he was a little fuzzy on the details but was pretty sure it had been to do with an exchange of insults, something about a rubber duck and having been alone in the base for hours.

Oh, and probably all the years of ridiculous sexual tension finally snapping; trust Grif to ruin a good system of denial and repression like that. It was never a perfect system, but damn it, it’d worked!

Grif is rutting away between his thighs in earnest by this point and he’s got Simmons’ arms pinned above his head; some part of the maroon soldier’s brain is helpfully trying to inform him that being part cyborg, if he wanted to break free, he only need apply approximately 39.23 Newtons of force with his mechanical arm to Grif’s. Simmons is helpfully trying to get this part of his brain to shut up.

Suddenly Grif gives a low moan and his eyes flutter open; impossibly thick lashes revealing the most blue of irises imaginable, pupils blown wide and dark in the centre.

Trust this tubby asshole to have such goddamn pretty eyes Simmons snarks in his head and how are his eyes blue anyway? Native fucking Hawaiian and all...

But Simmons’ inner-rant on the relation of eye-colour and ethnicity is cut off when Grif leans in and fucking bites the tip of his ear, causing the soldier to make an embarrassingly needy sound; he thinks he can feel his teammate grinning against his skin now. Asshole.

“You’re... Blushing’ Grif whispers, breathless and amused “Like a girl.”

“Shut up!” Simmons gasps, but Grif just laughs and licks a hot stripe up his neck;
“Makes your freckles stand out”

“Grif I swear to God, if you don’t stop dicking around and get serious right now...”

Thankfully, the other soldier lets out another huff of amusement and gets right back to the job; releasing Simmons’ arms to unbuckle his belt and pull it right out of the loops on his jeans with surprising skill; Simmons knows he doesn’t do this often. Perhaps it’s a learnt skill from ages ago, before this stupid fucking canyon...

Simmons’ mind starts and goes blank when his jeans pool at his ankles and Grif shoves a hand straight down the front of his briefs, palm curling around the hot, hard flesh it finds and squeezing
“Fuck... Oh, fuck!”

And Simmons knows he’s embarrassing himself now; Grif’s probably never going to let him forget how he’s holding onto the man’s unexpectedly broad shoulders for dear life, begging near incoherently for him to please, don’t let go while pre-come rolls from the head of his prick to coat the hand jerking him hard and fast and Simmons knows he’ll never hear the end of it as he moans something about how he’d let Grif fuck him right there on the floor on his hands and knees as rough as he wanted just so long as he doesn’t fucking let go, please god don’t let go!

Grif mouths at his neck and his free hand comes up to rather unceremoniously shove two fingers into Simmons’ babbling mouth. He spends a second wondering if Grif’s only doing it to shut him up when the reason actually hits him;

Oh... Oh.

Knowing it’s probably all he’s going to get, Simmons sucks those fingers deeper into his mouth, tongue curling around each, tasting skin slightly salty and... Chocolaty?

Fucking Grif and his Oreos!

It probably shouldn’t have been a good feeling, knowing that Grif could still piss him off while having him pressed up against a wall and giving him the best handjob he’d ever received in his life, but Simmons couldn’t deny that it was somehow comforting; their relationship just wouldn’t be theirs without some measure of rage or loathing involved.

But be honest, Dick; you fucking love it like that.

“Simmons’ Grif is withdrawing his fingers and his other hand has stopped moving “I need you to turn around”

“Why?” Dick almost sobs, wanting, needing that hand to move again. Grif rolls his eyes.

“Seriously?” He growls and spins the other man around, pressing his face into the wall. Dick’s nose is uncomfortably squished and Grif is still not touching his cock.

“Hate’chu” he tries to growl but the pressure on his nose makes it nasal and whiny. Grif presses him in a little harder and puts his lips against Simmons’ ear;

“Yeah, I hate you too, bitch...’ he whispers, hiking Dick’s shirt up underneath his arms and pulling his briefs down to his thighs “I hate you so fucking much.” Grif palms one of his nipples and Simmons gasps and bucks forward against the wall, body demanding friction.
“Simmons.’ Grif intones seriously “I hate you... So I’m gonna take it out of your ass.”

Well. Dick can’t help but whimper pathetically at that.

Grif’s leg comes up between his and he’s being spread open and bared. Simmons feels himself flush and swallow hard when Grif circles cool, wet fingers around his ass.

“Probably not going to be enough’ Grif is saying “ever taken it before, Simmons?”

“No” Dick grunts, suddenly feeling nervous; he is remembering how Grif felt against him before and the answer is not small...

“You a virgin?”

“GRIF”

“Alright calm down, bitch’ he says and Simmons can just imagine the shit-eating grin on his face “I’m going to try something then since you’re such a perfect unspoilt princess”

Dick tries to catch the mouthy fat bastard in the ribs with his elbow but for once in his life, Grif does something fast and dodges out of the way in time.

“Don’t move” He says and whoa, ok fuck; did he just drop to his knees?

Simmons almost points out that he’s facing the wrong way for that kind of thing but it becomes clear that isn’t Grif’s intention as Dick feels him spread his ass wider, feels hot breath puff against the sensitive skin there...

Ho-lyyy shiiiiit...

Right. Simmons is a smart guy; he realizes that there is meant to be a point in this where he’s supposed to relax his muscles and it supposedly makes things easier, but how in the fuck is he supposed to relax when he’s letting the teammate he reputedly hates lick smooth, wet stripes right up the cleft of his ass?

“Oh... God”

Grif hums in amusement and the vibration of it seems to go straight to Simmons’ cock and it takes an unfair amount of concentration not to come all over the wall he’s now holding himself up with. Grif’s tongue is moving again, pressing hard and flat against his entrance but not in and Dick wants that; he really, really wants that. The whole thing had been made out to sound amazing in all those porn books he was too embarrassed to admit having owned in college, but Simmons had never really thought it could be good in reality.
Sometimes he can admit to being wrong... Sometimes. Like now, clinging to the wall and feeling debauched and only slightly used as Grif licks into him between murmuring inappropriate things which sound something like “so pretty” and “best ass on Red team” and those noises Simmons can hear every time Grif presses filthy, wet open-mouthed kisses against his hole.

And, well, how about that? He must have relaxed at some point because Grif’s tongue all but fucking sinks into him and the stupid fact-focussed part of Simmons’ mind is trying to figure out average human tongue length because there is no fucking way in hell his tongue could be as long as it feels.

Ok, well maybe not that long; because it doesn’t quite reach far enough inside to push against the spot Simmons needs it to. Without Grif’s hand on his cock, he’s resorting to humping the goddamn wall and it’s just not working out.

“Grif... Grif, c’mon!’ He chokes out as his teammate’s tongue strokes his inner walls “C’mon already!”

“What?’ Grif pulls away with a wet, actually-kind-of-gross sound that shouldn’t send another throb of need to Simmons’ aching cock “Somethin’ you need, Simmons?”

He would absolutely punch that smug prick if it didn’t mean he’d stop. Dick groans in frustration and bites out;

“Fuckin’ fuck me already or I’m telling Sarge that it wasn’t actually a rogue goat who ate all of last month’s rations.”

“Blackmail does not become you, Dick’ Grif replies, probably trying to sound sagely “But yeah, ok; I’ll fuck you even though you’re an annoying son of a bitch. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Past-insecurities take that moment to bubble to the surface and Simmons desperately wants to ask if Grif really thinks he’s pretty but he’s already filled his quota of giving the guy shit to tease him mercilessly about. And he doesn’t want to distract the other soldier any more as he hears him get up and start messing with his belt buckle.

C’mon, c’mon... Please, hurry UP!

Simmons tries not to sob with relief when Grif finally shucks off his clothes and presses warm, naked skin against his back. It should feel weird; they essentially had gone from fighting to fucking in the space of five minutes while never having shared so much as a handshake, but instead it feels right... For a moment Simmons catches himself thinking it’d actually be kind of nice to wake up every morning with that solid heat pressed against him in his bunk...

“When you start thinking hard like that, I can fucking feel it” Grif says, resting his chin on Simmons’ shoulder as his hands slide over his hips.

“Can’t help it’ Dick gasps out when he feels the orange soldier’s cock slide up against his ass “brain never shuts up”

“I think I can probably help there;’ Grif says, nudging Simmons’ thighs further apart “Give you something better to focus on...” and then he’s pressing his cock inside him.

Simmons groans at the hot stretching sensation as he’s opened up and filled. The wide head of Grif’s cock nudges his prostate and Simmons would probably have come right then if a hand wasn’t reached around his body and clamped down tightly around the base of his aching prick.

“No’ Grif all but hisses in his ear “You get to come when I decide to let you.”

And Jesus; who knew Grif was such a dom? Simmons moans and arches at those words as Grif keeps sinking into him deeper, until he’s pressed flush against Simmons back. The feeling is kind of overwhelming and since the cock in him is really fucking thick, he’s pretty glad that Grif appears to be taking a moment to let him adjust to it; Simmons rests his head against the wall and tries to remember how to breathe.

Grif’s left hand, the one not viced around Simmons cock (which oddly kind of hurts but doesn’t at the same time) is slowly travelling up his chest, gentle and actually stroking; Grif has him in some kind of pseudo-hug now and it’s like he’s striking a weird balance between being a sexy domineering bastard (which Simmons adores) and being a considerate, loving bastard (which Simmons also adores)

“I’m gonna move now’ Grif says “God-DAMN, Simmons, you’re so fucking tight...”

That alone makes him clench around Grif’s cock; the orange soldier grunts softly and pulls out halfway only to sink back in. Simmons isn’t even bothering to hide his moans anymore, even if some of them could be described as “wanton” or “whore-like.” He’s surprised that Grif is fucking him so slowly; his movements slow and deep, sliding over just the right spot inside him and ouch, Jesus fucking Christ, Simmons’ cock is hurting; impossibly hard and swollen in Grif’s hand. It gives a hard throb every time Grif thrusts inside him and the combination of pleasure and pain is nearly unbearably good.

“Fuck, you feel so good’ Grif’s saying to him “Just wanna have you on top next time. Don’t get me wrong; I love hearing my balls slap against that tight little ass of yours, but I wanna see you fucking yourself on my cock. You’d look so good above me; moaning like a desperate, needy slut.”

Grif has always been foul-mouthed and yet Simmons had never thought about how that would translate to dirty talk; but now he’s here, flushed with sex and embarrassment and Grif is clearly not done yet;

“Donut would be so jealous; you know he watches you, right? Cos you’re such an oblivious fucking pretty boy you’ve probably never noticed. Think his eyes would bug out of his skull if he could see what I’m doing to you, fucking hear those sounds you make... Maybe if I feel generous, if you wanted to, we could let him join in? Cos I’d just love to see you on your knees, taking a cock down your throat while I fuck you from behind.”

Simmons’ face burns at the image; he’s not attracted to Donut but the hypothetical situation is undoubtedly hot and Grif needs to shut up now because his cock can’t take any more verbal abuse.

“Grif, please I need to come!” He groans and it comes out a little pained at the end when Grif cruelly tightens his hand around Simmons.

“Not done yet” he says almost casually and god knows how he manages that when he’s got his cock buried deep in someone’s ass. Grif’s free hand is now sliding up Simmons’ back to his neck, fisting in the short strands of hair at the nape and pulling his head back. Throat bared, Simmons feels Grif lean in and bite just hard enough for him to feel a twinge of pain.

“Dex...”

Grif stops.

Simmons stops.

He’s never said Grif’s first name before.

Shit. Making out and fucking is one thing, but to Simmons that feels way too intimate; nobody on the team ever uses each other’s first names (except for their illustrious leader, who they’re pretty sure has actually legally changed his name to Sarge) using it seems to imply that he thinks of him as something more than that asshole he’s stuck in this canyon with; and while if he’s very honest with himself, that might actually be kind of true, Simmons doesn’t think he’s ready for Grif to know that. And he’s certainly not ready to find out that Grif doesn’t feel the same way.

But then he’s pressing close and whispering in Simmons ear; “say it again.”

Well. This is awkward; this is probably not the time for Simmons to be having a flashback to his favourite cartoon of his childhood. Dick had drawn parallels between himself and the main character; a socially awkward redhead with brains in abundance yet who preferred his own company... Or maybe was just lonely. But that’s why it was so weird when he met Grif and found out that his first name was;

“Dexter...”

The man gives a soft, hitched gasp and presses his nose into Simmons’ cheek. He’s not sure, but he thinks Grif might be smiling.

“Always hated that stupid name; I mean how fucking Hawaiian is Dexter? But when you say it like that...” Grif lets his movements finish the sentence for him and fucks into Simmons hard while craning around to press their lips solidly together. Grif swallows down his desperate moans and decides to finally take pity on Simmons... Or at least on his poor, straining cock which feels hard as granite under his hand; skin hot and stretched painfully taut.

He loosens his hold and a moment later Simmons comes with a broken cry, painting the wall with hot, wet heat. Grif smiles because of all the times he’s broken the other man’s control, he thinks he likes this one the best. He pumps Simmons cock in his fist until he softens, all the while fucking into that sweet ass of his; Grif doesn’t bother to hold in his groans of pleasure as Simmons clenches around him once more and undoes him;

Dexter Grif comes with Simmons’ name on his lips.

. . .

The room goes quiet apart from the sound of their combined heavy breathing. Grif’s pretty much leaning his full weight on Simmons now and he has obviously given up holding onto the wall to stay upright because he is now more or less plastered against it. Grif’s got his arms locked tight around Simmons’ belly and his lips pressed into his hair.

He smells absolutely fantastic; clean sweat, sex musk and some fucking girly-ass shampoo; he smells like Simmons and Grif can’t think of anything better. Maybe the sweet dark cocoa smell of a newly opened pack of Oreos...

Simmons tenses “oh my god, Grif! You’re thinking about food, aren’t you?!”

“What- how did you know?”

“Because I can feel your stomach rumbling, you fat shallow fuck! Now get off me!”

Grif breathes a sigh of relief; for a moment he thought it might be some freaky psychic sex link. Instead of moving away from Simmons, he just tightens his arms around him and places a kiss against the back of his neck. Dick stops trembling in rage and goes completely still, then boneless, and then he’s leaning back into Grif.

“Can’t really blame me after that workout, right baby?”

“Baby?” Simmons says incredulously and Grif gives a small shrug

“Well, it’s mostly because you’re a whiny little bitch and a pain in my ass, but since you’re so fucking hot, yeah. Baby. Babe. You good with that?”

Dick is quiet, obviously rolling it over in his head a few times. Then he says quietly “you’re the pain in my ass right now” but Grif can hear him trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

“Sorry, but you signed away your ass-virginity to me; it was always gonna hurt a little” he pulls out slowly, being careful not to cause Simmons any undue pain. Grif feels him shiver a little at the withdrawal and when he speaks again his voice is shaky;

“No... It was good. Didn’t hurt during at all... Just feels a little... Er...”

“Over-used?” Grif supplies and Simmons gives a huff of laughter

“Pretty much.”

They lapse into silence for a bit, letting the thoughts of “I just had sex with my very male teammate” sink in. Simmons is torn between jubilation and worried thoughts of how it’ll affect the team dynamic... Or whatever chaotic excuse for order they have. Grif seems to read these thoughts because he stands up straight and encourages Simmons to turn around by putting his hands on his hips and pulling gently. When Simmons still seems a little shaky-legged, Grif crowds him back against the wall, body pressing lightly to his.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything” he says and Simmons rolls his eyes

“Oh god, is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you I wanted you from day one and how I’m actually deeply in love with you?” he asks but then he sees how ridiculously serious Grif’s eyes are.

“Simmons.” He says. It’s a statement and now Dick is feeling like kind of an asshole.

“Grif, I didn’t mean-”

“I’ve wanted you from day one.” Grif intones and Simmons blinks, startled.

“... Really?” He practically squeaks

“And I’m.... Fuck, not ‘deeply in love with you’ because I’m not a goddamn girl, but I... Like you. I’m deeply in like with you.’ Grif shakes his head “I’m not asking you for anything but you’re really hot and I kind of care about you, so if you want...” He trails off and looks away.

Simmons isn’t stupid. He’s really not. He’s the most qualified solider on Red Team. So he knows that what Grif just said wasn’t easy and he knows that it will change things. It’s basically been put in his hands, both the mechanical and organic one, to decide if they’re change for better or worse.

And since he’s really not stupid, he already has an answer...

“Grif.’ He says, wrapping a hand around the back of the other man’s neck “I think I’m in like with you too”

So they’re kissing again. And not in the desperate, open-mouthed way that’d started all this; just a firm, warm press of lips against lips; the way couples do when they’re in like with each other. It wasn’t really much of a revelation for the two that they’d kind of been a couple already for years, but it was nice, really nice in fact, to finally have that confirmation.

“You weren’t really serious about Donut joining in, were you?”

“Not now that you’re mine, bitch. My cock is the only one you’ll be sucking, Dick.”

“God, you are such an asshole.”

“But you like me anyway.”

“Yeah... Strangely enough, I really do.”

-

-End-
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Breaking The Tension