What If?

Ignorance is bliss. At least, that was what Scorch had always heard. But still he wondered. He wondered about a lot of the 'what-ifs' life threw at him, even though he knew he was not supposed to. Even though his brothers told him to knock it off before it got him in osik too deep to escape. Even though he, himself, knew that sooner or later, the 'what-ifs' would hurt him. But still he wondered.

Right now, he wondered about the day before in the locker rooms, when Boss and Fixer had already left, leaving him alone with Scorch for just a moment...

He had been shaking himself dry, balanced against one of the shower stalls, Sev making a verbal jab for him to move. He had replied with a slightly sarcastic obeisance, Sev grabbing him when he had turned to leave. It was an extremely uncomfortable moment and something, though he was not sure what, had passed between that hair's breadth distance between them. However, the moment had not lasted, Boss hollering back through the door at them and Scorch seizing the moment to run off and dress. Now, though, the thought plagued him with a not entirely unwelcome, but still unspoken, thought riddled with those same 'what-ifs'.

Uneasily, he took a clandestine glance at Sev, who was completely absorbed in cleaning his deece across the room. He snapped back to his own task, fiddling with the innards of a disabled detpack, as Fixer looked up from what he was doing. Before now, Scorch would never have felt the need to be sneaky in looking at his brother, so why now? What had changed? Inside, he knew, but he could not consciously admit it to himself. His usual jokes were failing him, too, leaving the room stiflingly quiet, the only sounds being that of four men cleaning their weapons for the thousandth time, even though they were already spotless. It was merely something to do while they waited for the next mission. Finally, Scorch couldn't take it anymore. Setting down the detpack and his tools, Scorch walked out of the room, letting out an exasperated breathe as the door hissed shut behind him.

He turned and leaned his forehead against the wall, trying to think past the wall of 'what-ifs' that refused to go away. It only became worse when Sev was the one that poked his head out the door a moment later.

"Something wrong?" he asked, gruffly.

For the first time he could remember, Scorch found words failing him. He hung his head, looking at his boots. "I-need to talk to you. Alone."

Sev raised an eyebrow and finished stepping out, motioning to the others to stay put. "What's this all about?"

Taking a deep breath, Scorch dove in head first. "Last night. In the lockers...what was that?"

"Dunno what you're talking about," Sev grunted.

"Yeah, you do."

"Prove it."

Scorch flinched inwardly at that, his cheeks flushing. There was no turning back now. Hesitating for a moment, Scorch inched closer, ready to spring aside if his half-crazy brother decided to take a swing at him, his eyes flickering between his boots and Sev's brown eyes. Finally close enough that only the thinnest gap separated them, Scorch found himself unable to look away from Sev, who also seemed to lock eyes with him, as if trying to guess what Scorch was up to.

A moment's hesitation again. Then a decision. Throwing his arms around his brother's neck, Scorch locked lips with his brother, kissing him. A mere moment later, Sev returned the gesture, his strong arms pulling him closer in an almost painful grip, nearly lifting him off the floor. He grunted, wincing, but soon lost himself in the feeling of Sev's tongue in his mouth, his strong body against his own, a feral, feverish desire welling deep within himself as Sev nearly crushed him against the wall. He wasn't the only one.

Sev's hands had begun wandering, seemingly searching for something over the smooth black bodysuit Scorch wore, Sev's mouth searching deeper and deeper into his own until Scorch was afraid he might choke...and then ceased to care. He didn't care that they were out in the corridor. He didn't care that anyone could walk by and see them. He didn't care that all of it was being recorded by a security holocam. The 'what-ifs' melted from his mind as he fumbled for the door release, not caring if Boss or Fixer saw them.

Sev caught his hand and breathed, "No," and pulled away. Scorch suddenly felt cheated, like he had missed something, but then Sev pointed down the hall. "Maintenance room," he said.

Scorch got the idea and followed.

Once inside, he felt suddenly awkward and uncertain again, even a little afraid as the door hissed shut, leaving them in a darkness lit only by a dim status light here and there on some cleaning droids as they charged. Sev took the initiative and pressed Scorch back against the wall again, pinning him, his mouth searching for Scorch's. When they met again, tongues sliding across each other and the heady hormones spiking upward again, Scorch felt Sev fumbling with the seal on his bodysuit. He also felt the lower portion of the suit becoming somewhat uncomfortable, feeling far to tight around his hips.

The seal on his suit gave and Scorch felt the air of the maintenance room on his shoulder and chest, his head falling back as Sev's mouth began working down his throat, more biting than kissing, stopping for a moment to suck painfully at the base of Scorch's neck as he pressed close. Between the other man's legs, Scorch felt a distinct bulge as it pressed against his hip. More of his suit began falling away, Sev's teeth becoming used more than his lips or tongue, becoming as painful as it was sensual, but still, somehow, making him more desperate for his brother's touch to continue. He started to fiddle with the seal on Sev's suit, impatience started to seize him, Sev's head coming back up to meet Scorch's mouth again, making it easier to strip off the first section of the black material.

Somehow, they both ended up naked without ever stopping the constant groping and kissing they were so deeply engaged in. The exact details of how it had happened escaped Scorch. All he cared for was the sensation of his brother against him, that feral need in his belly roaring like a wild rancor for release.

Both of them were hard, both seeming to be searching the other for permission before proceeding beyond heated groping and the occasional dry hump from Sev. They parted for a moment, gasping like beached fish.

Finally, Scorch gave in. His voice barely more than a whisper, he breathed, "Take me."