Crash Landing
Kyl’s routine scouting mission goes very wrong… And then goes very, very right when Commander Mason shows up to rescue him.
trans M / cis M, 4.4k. Military rank difference and age difference, both are consenting adults. Language: cock / dick, little cock, front hole.
“This is callsign: Gremlin, I’m going down, repeat, I’m going down! Can anyone hear me? Need search and rescue, send help, I’m going d — ”
His own panicked voice, nearly drowned out by the rattling of his ship as the raging storm tossed him around in the air like a child’s toy, was the last thing Kyl heard before everything cut off in a crunch and the world went black around him.
The next thing he heard was a forlorn beeping. Blinking groggily as he came to, Kyl lifted his head and looked around.
The beeping was coming from the console of his one-person scout ship and the world was white now, instead of black. Wincing at the bright glare from the snowscape outside, he squinted through the half-crumpled, tilted canopy while the beeping finally warbled itself into silence.
There was nothing out there. Nothing to see but empty, windswept snow stretching to the horizon, the sun riding high in a pale aqua-blue clear sky. The last flickering lights on the ship’s console died a few seconds after the beeping did. Kyl groaned, the sound coming out as a faint croak.
Well, shit.
After a moment of sitting there with his eyes closed against the bright glare, Kyl took a deep breath and unbuckled his harness. He moved slowly, gingerly, certain he had to be injured and just wasn’t feeling it yet — but, to his surprise and relief, he seemed to be fine. Aside from a few strained muscles, some bruises from his seat harness, and just generally being shaken up by the crash landing, at least.
First things first, then. Take stock. Forcibly pushing away the anxious worry tickling in the back of his mind — why had base gone radio silent on him like that? Had they even heard his call for help? And what the hell was he going to do if they hadn’t? — Kyl wiggled out of his seat and started rummaging through the interior wreckage of his ship.
There wasn’t all that much to search through; he’d headed out on what was supposed to be a routine one-day scouting mission, back by suppertime. He had maybe a day’s worth of water and rations. Two days if he made the supplies stretch. Nowhere near enough to try hiking back to base from this far out, though. Especially not without proper cold weather gear. He didn’t even have a jacket. And where one unexpected, unprecedented, furious storm had hit… Who knew what could come next.
Aside from the food and water, he also had a first aid kit he luckily didn’t need, save for the metallic emergency blanket folded up in the bottom of the kit. Kyl shivered as he repacked the kit minus the blanket, squinting out through the canopy again. Another howling gust of wind buffeted past, swirling up the snow and rocking the downed space craft with ominous creaking sounds. The wind whistled into the cockpit as well, Kyl noted uneasily, cold drafts coming in through the cracked plastiglass canopy and the buckled metal alike.
Well, first rule of survival: stay put if you can. Even if his mayday hadn’t gotten through to base, they had his planned flight path. Someone would find him soon, surely — hopefully — and from what his scans had been showing before the sudden and violent storm had swatted him out of the sky, from what he could see outside… his wrecked ship was probably the only shelter he’d have for kilometers around anyway.
So Kyl found the least drafty corner of the cockpit, wrapped himself tightly up in the emergency blanket, and settled in for what he hoped to hell would be a short wait.
It wasn’t exactly short, but it wasn’t too long either, all things considered, before someone did find him.
A little under a day and half after the crash at his best guess, Kyl was jolted out of fitful sleep by a loud banging sound on the outside of his crashed ship. He froze, relief and alarm warring foggily in his brain — what if it wasn’t his people; what if it was someone, or something, else who had found him? They were still exploring this planet, after all — but then a muffled voice called his name.
“Gremlin? Pilot! Answer me, Kyl, burn you!”
Kyl nearly fainted with giddy relief. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Commander!” he called, scrambling to his feet. Or trying to, anyway. His muscles, stiff after being curled up motionless and chilled, didn’t seem keen on springing into action along with the rest of him. “Sir, I’m here. I’m… I’m okay! Let me see if the manual canopy release still works.”
He could have sworn he actually heard, through the snow-covered canopy, Commander Mason grumbling under his breath about idiot greenvine pilots always trying to get themselves killed, though it was probably just his imagination. He’d heard those gruff tirades often enough in his year of training with the man that he was pretty sure they were permanently etched into his brain. Not that Kyl minded; he’d always liked Mason’s voice.
…Probably a little more than he should, really.
“Hold up a minute,” Mason ordered curtly, cutting into Kyl’s wandering thoughts. “You’ll just break the damn thing like this.”
Kyl stopped, leaning against the side of his pilot’s seat, skewed at a wonky angle from the crash. He heard more banging from outside, thumping sounds that moved up the curve of the crumpled cockpit.
A minute later, light began filtering in more brightly as Mason laboriously cleared off the snow that had drifted up over Kyl’s downed scout ship, piled up by the continual wind across the plains. He waited, shivering, his stomach grumbling insistently now that it knew there was likely to be more food forthcoming than the nibbles of ration bar and sips of water he’d been making do with to conserve his supplies.
“Okay. Try it now!” Mason finally called from outside. Kyl, emergency blanket still wrapped tightly around him and his muscles still protesting every movement, clambered half into the seat to pull the emergency canopy release.
He strained at the lever for a moment, hoping that it still worked and the mechanism hadn’t been too damaged or warped in the crash… And though the plastiglass canopy didn’t pop up and off to the back like it should have, it did creak partway open. Just enough for Kyl, with Commander Mason helping from the outside, to get under, lift, and crawl clumsily out through the gap and onto the tilted wing of his ship.
Kyl started shivering violently before he’d even made it all the way out of the cockpit. The wind gusted in a sudden frigid flurry as he stood, nearly knocking him right off the wing — but Mason caught him as he slipped and staggered.
“Woah, there. Come on. There’s another storm blowing in, let’s get you inside before it hits.”
Inside where? Kyl tried to ask, but his teeth were chattering too hard to talk. His question was answered a minute later anyway. Mason helped him get down without just falling off into the snow that had piled up and drifted half over his ship, and led him to a nearby spacecraft that definitely hadn’t been there when Kyl had crashed.
It was one of the Exploration Advance Force’s smaller personnel transports, and it was, at that moment, the single most welcome sight Kyl had ever laid eyes on.
His awareness started to blur in and out by the time Mason got him halfway to the transport ship, even though it was only a few minutes walk. More of a hasty stagger than a walk, on Kyl’s part. He kept moving in a daze, swaying on his feet in the supporting circle of Mason’s arm, his teeth chattering so violently he wondered, distantly, if he was going to break them.
One moment he was outside, squeezing his eyes shut against the pelting, icy snow that stung his face in yet another angry howl of wind; the next moment he was inside, the transport ship quiet and still and… warm.
Kyl blinked around as the hatch closed behind them, feeling oddly detached. Drifting. Moments skipped and stuttered in and out of his awareness, Mason’s acerbic muttering washing over him all the while. The sound was comfortingly familiar even when he couldn’t quite follow all the words.
He did catch a, “Damn fool cadet,” vaguely aware the Commander was stripping him out of his ice-crusted pilot’s suit and re-wrapping him in a silvery emergency blanket. He had no idea if it was the same one he’d been using or a new one.
“Not a cadet anymore,” Kyl mumbled, stumbling on legs that didn’t want to work while Mason practically carried him through to the sleeping cabin by the transport’s cockpit. “’m a pilot.”
Mason snorted. “Should never have graduated you,” he said gruffly. Dropping Kyl onto the bed, he turned to dig something out of a bag on the floor. “Never would have gotten into this mess… Here. Drink.”
Kyl’s fingers were so numb, more than he’d realized, that he immediately almost dropped the thermos pressed into his hands. Mason caught it and helped him, opening the cap and holding the thermos in one big hand while Kyl sipped at the steaming hot broth; hesitantly at first, and then greedily as his stomach growled its approval.
“Woah, woah… Easy there, Gremlin,” Mason said, easing the thermos away again. “Take it slow.”
Kyl dutifully slowed down to sips instead of gulps, sighing with relief as the heat began seeping into him from the inside. He could feel his eyes getting heavier, his body drooping and the thermos suddenly too hard to hold onto anymore…
And the last thing he knew before sleep claimed him was Mason easing him down into the bunk and bundling him tightly in layers of blankets.
When Kyl woke up again, it was a slow and muzzy slog back to consciousness.
The first thing he noticed was that he was, finally, not shivering anymore. That was a nice change from the violent, uncontrollable shaking he remembered devolving into before Mason had even gotten him into the small transport ship.
The second thing he noticed was that a large part of the reason he was so warm and cozy was that he wasn’t just tucked snugly into the bunk behind the pilot’s cabin under an emergency blanket. He was under the regular cot blanket as well…
And he had Commander Mason — the instructor he’d only had a crush on for the entirety of flight training — curled around his back.
Neither of them were wearing very many clothes.
Heat spiked in Kyl’s face, not to mention other parts of him a little lower down, and he came rather suddenly even more awake. Unfortunately, the next thing he noticed was the reason he’d woken up. After a brief internal struggle, he finally worked his way out from under the blankets — and Mason’s bare arm — and hurried aft in nothing but his shorts and undershirt to duck into the washroom unit.
With barely enough room for one person to stand in comfortably, it had the standard vac-toilet and cleansing-cloths dispenser in place of a sink. Luckily, everything was in working order, and Kyl took the chance to just generally clean himself up a little bit as well once he was done. After that, he headed back out into the ship and found the thermos of still-warm soup that he’d managed to have a little of earlier, before passing out. A storm was raging once more outside the small viewports, though he couldn’t feel the violence of it the same way inside the bigger, solid transport as he had in his little scout ship.
But he was already starting to shiver again in only boxers and a tight, thin t-shirt, so after hurriedly gulping down some soup, he hurried back to the bunk and quietly climbed in under the covers, instantly grateful for Mason’s warmth.
Mason shifted and mumbled something unintelligible as Kyl squirmed carefully backwards and in under the commander’s arm again, but didn’t wake up. Kyl, though, found himself unable to drift off again. He lay there in the comfortable warmth instead, sleepy but awake, chewing on his bottom lip and wondering why Commander Mason had personally flown out to find him.
As well as thinking about the fact that Mason had also mostly stripped before climbing into the cot with him.
For body heat, obviously; even with the climate-controlled ship, dry blankets and physical warmth were still the best treatment for the hypothermia Kyl had obviously been suffering. But… well, knowing that was all it was didn’t change the fact that Kyl was now in bed with a half-dressed Commander Mason wrapped snugly around his back, breathing softly into his neck, and… and —
Kyl swallowed, going abruptly still for a moment and then shifting slightly, carefully. And sure enough, it wasn’t just his imagination. He really could… he could feel something unmistakable, hot and a little stiff, pressing against his ass from behind.
Breath coming shallow and unsteady, Kyl slowly pushed his hips back into Mason’s crotch just to feel that stiff heat better, knowing he shouldn’t be doing it but completely unable to help himself. Mason muttered something indistinct in his sleep again — and leaned into it with a soft huff of breath, his arm tightening momentarily around Kyl’s middle and his broad body pressing tighter against Kyl’s back.
Kyl nearly choked as the movement rubbed Mason’s cock against his ass, his commander’s weight pushing him forward and slightly down into the mattress. He was… he was aching for it already, wet and leaking, his cock stiffening up eagerly. Just the pressure of Kyl’s own thighs were enough to make his trapped dick twitch hopefully, and he barely stifled a whimper as he squeezed his legs together tighter for a little relief.
He didn’t exactly mean to grip Mason’s hand with his, or to arch his back and grind his ass harder against Mason’s half-filled erection at the same time, but… He did, quivering slightly at the fresh burst of need that blossomed hot through his groin when his commander’s hips pressed forward again in response —
And it woke Mason up as well.
Well, slowly. At first.
Kyl froze, a burning flush of mingled embarrassment, shame, and hopeful lust rushing to his face as Mason’s fingers tightened and released on his and his commander mumbled something a little more coherent against the back of his neck.
“Umf… What’s… Kyl? I — oh, sparks,” Mason swore quietly, rolling back far enough to lift his weight off Kyl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… That wasn’t — ”
“It wasn’t your fault, sir,” Kyl interrupted, his cheeks still blazing. “It was… it was me, I woke up and you were… It… you felt so g — ”
He cut off into a soft whine he hadn’t meant to let slip out, squirming slightly in place from sheer, throbbing need — and belatedly realizing he hadn’t actually let go of Mason’s hand. And Mason hadn’t pulled his arm away, it was still resting on Kyl’s middle.
“Please don’t stop,” Kyl blurted out, a little breathlessly. His thighs were quivering; his whole body felt like it was vibrating. By the end of his training, he’d thought, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who wished there wasn’t such a yawning chasm of age and rank difference between him and his flight instructor… but he’d never really thought he’d get a chance to actually find out, and he knew he probably wasn’t thinking the most rationally at the moment, and he really didn’t care.
He heard Mason swallow hard behind him, arm twitching as though he had started to pull away fully and stopped again.
“I don’t think that’s good idea, pilot,” Mason said hoarsely.
“I don’t care if it’s not a good idea.” Light-headed, feeling like he was floating in zero-G, Kyl boosted headlong forward. He’d committed himself this far; what did he have to lose? Other than all his remaining dignity, probably. “Do you really not want it, too? Or do you just think you shouldn’t?”
Silence answered him, save for Mason’s ever-so-slightly strained, heavy breathing. Heart thudding through his chest, Kyl scooted backward to close the tiny gap Mason had put between them. He heard the unsteady hitch in Mason’s breath as he nestled himself against the commander’s front again — and Mason didn’t pull away.
Unable to help the faint whimper that rose in his throat, Kyl carefully pressed Mason’s warm hand flat to his stomach and slowly arched his back… deliberately, gently, but insistently pushing his hips back into Mason’s groin.
“Sir… I want you,” slipped from his lips, the words barely more than a choked whisper. “Please, I… hn — ”
He cut off in shaky, hitched breath as Mason’s fingers tightened slightly on his belly and the commander’s hips rolled forward in a slow press; an unmistakable thrust, accompanied by a strained breath of a grunt that ghosted hot over the back of Kyl’s neck.
“I know I shouldn’t,” Mason said hoarsely. “But…”
It took Kyl a few distracted seconds to make the connection to his own question from a moment ago.
Do you really not want it? Or do you just think you shouldn’t?
Kyl trembled, his own shallow panting breaths seeming to echo in his ears and hot tension jolting through his middle in a ripple of elated shock and lust. Mason did want him. Oh, fuck. It wasn’t just Kyl who wanted this; it hadn’t been just his imagination all along.
He hadn’t really stopped moving, rocking slowly in place just to feel the stiff heat of Mason’s rapidly-filling erection rubbing against him from behind — and with a shivering moan, dizzy with anticipation and sheer want, he slid his hand slowly down his front, guiding Mason’s lower… past the line of his hip… until their entwined fingers slid under the waistband of his undershorts.
Kyl heard Mason’s breath catch, felt the commander’s lips brushing the curve of his bare neck as he guided Mason’s hand to cup his crotch. A faint whimper of a moan rose in Kyl’s throat as Mason’s palm rubbed lightly against his stiffened cock, fingertips brushing tormentingly briefly over his soaking wet entrance before Mason paused, hesitating.
“Yes?” Mason asked, voice still hoarse, raw with the same desire thudding hot and fast through Kyl’s own veins.
“Yes,” Kyl managed, shifting to twist his hips back, open his legs a little. He couldn’t stop himself from rutting forward, grinding rhythmically into Mason’s palm with another wordless moan of need.
Mason inhaled into his neck, rolling forward and pressing harder against Kyl from behind again with a strained grunt — and two of those fingers eased into Kyl at the same time that Mason sucked a kiss into his neck, lips and tongue warm and wet on his skin. Kyl shuddered, his breath coming fast and shallow, his hand still on Mason’s inside his shorts and his hips rocking helplessly in place. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more of: the feeling of Mason’s erection against his ass, or of his own cock against the heel of Mason’s palm.
Fortunately, he didn’t really have to choose. Mason was still mouthing at his neck, breath hot and humid on Kyl’s bare skin, hips rolling in slow, pressing thrusts. Kyl kept a hand on Mason’s for a short time, guiding his commander’s slick fingers up to stroke his little straining-hard cock; then back down again to pump in and out in time with the rhythm of Mason’s hips behind him.
Once Mason had the hang of how to touch him, Kyl twisted, breathing hard, and slid his hand around back between them… fingers finding Mason’s hip and slipping inwards almost nervously — what if, somehow, that was suddenly going too far and the commander changed his mind —
But that didn’t happen. Mason only let out a low groan as Kyl easily found the stiff heat of his cock and gripped him lightly through his underwear.
He was… Kyl trembled, cock twitching under Mason’s fingers and a renewed, dizzying burst of heat spiralling through him. Mason was hard, and hot, and had already leaked a sizeable slippery-wet spot of precome clear through his shorts. With a quiet groan of need, Kyl let go just long enough to shove Mason’s undershorts and his own down and out of the way. Mason’s freed cock rubbed against his bare skin and Kyl arched his back, fingers wrapping around that hard heat to guide Mason forward, cock sliding along the under-curve of his ass and between his half-open legs.
“Kyl…” Mason started; then he trailed off, breathing heavily, his hand falling still between Kyl’s legs but not pulling away.
“Are you still on… full inhibitors, too?” Kyl managed to ask, panting and all but squirming in place. Most of the actively serving lower ranks took the standard prophylactic-contraceptive combo treatment, but Kyl wasn’t sure about higher ranks.
A brief agonizing pause, a teetering moment of uncertainty and hesitation — he felt Mason nodding, the commander’s breath coming quick and shallow against his neck.
“Yes,” Mason answered hoarsely, and then he was shifting, moving with Kyl, and Kyl couldn’t breathe at all for panting as the blunt heat of Mason’s cockhead slid over his slippery-wet front hole… and in.
Kyl’s shuddering moan was echoed by Mason’s as his commander pushed deeper into him, filling him slowly with hot, thick, hard cock. Mason paused, panting shakily into Kyl’s neck for a few thundering heartbeats — then he drew back, pulling another gasped whimper from Kyl’s throat as the heavy heat of his steel-stiff cock slid partway out in a slick, perfect drag that set Kyl’s every nerve singing with pleasure.
Everything blurred after that. Kyl’s awareness narrowed to nothing but demanding heat and straining movement and deep, mindless, pure want as Mason settled into a steady rhythm, stomach tensing against Kyl’s back with every thrust. Kyl twisted in place and Mason shifted with him, hand slipping up out of his shorts and arm wrapping around his middle until Kyl was lying half on the mattress and half on top of Mason, legs splayed and knees bent wide open — and the commander’s hips hardly even paused their movement as Kyl craned his neck around and found Mason’s lips with his in a breathless, clumsy, hungry approximation of a kiss.
Mason’s mouth felt just as good as the rest of him, the hot, wet pressure of his tongue only adding to the urgent tension coiling and twisting higher in Kyl’s gut. Lips still haphazardly pressed to Mason’s, he finally shoved a hand between his sprawled open legs with a strangled whimper of a moan, almost frantically stroking his aching, briefly-neglected cock. He could feel himself clenching, getting even wetter around Mason as he hurtled towards climax — and from Mason’s strained, panting groan against Kyl’s slack mouth, the commander felt it, too.
“Sparking hells, Kyl,” Mason grated out, “I’m — I — ”
He cut off in another breathy groan, parted lips dragging warm and wet over Kyl’s jaw. Mason sounded every bit as desperately wrecked as Kyl felt, his arm tightening around Kyl’s middle, words replaced by nothing but hoarse grunts of effort and pleasure. Those driving thrusts picked up speed, Mason’s hips straining forward in frantic, quickfire thrusts — Kyl arched back into it, wordless gasps of need ragged in his own throat; he was right there on the brink — so close he could taste it —
And then his commander jerked and went rigid against his back, strangled cry muffled hot into his skin, arm tense and hips moving in jerky, uncoordinated twitches. Kyl felt Mason coming; felt that throbbing-hard heat pulse and flex inside him, the sensation — the knowledge — of Mason filling him up way more than enough to send him soaring over the edge as well in a quaking explosion of blissful, glorious release.
He barely heard the raw wail that tore from his throat, his whole body seizing up as he shuddered through wave after wave of searing-hot pleasure, helplessly clenching and spasming around Mason’s cock. Mason was still moving jerkily, gasping and panting into Kyl’s neck, arms tight around him, their skin hot and sweaty everywhere they were pressed tightly together. Every twitch, every wet, slippery shift of his commander’s cock inside him, of Mason’s body against his, sent renewed sparks of bliss through Kyl’s body and drew out his orgasm further… Until finally, he was just lying there trembling, panting and sweating, with his mind reeling and an unstoppable open-mouthed grin spreading over his face.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed entwined like that: Mason’s chest heaving slowly against him, curls of hair coarse and damp with sweat from them both; Mason’s arm comfortably heavy around his ribs, cock spent and softening inside him; and Kyl himself, boneless, sated, his whole body thrumming quietly with bliss. He only realized he’d actually dozed off when he startled awake again from the slippery-wet, warm tickle of Mason’s cock finally sliding all the way out of him.
Mason grunted, tensing slightly and moving as though to pull back, roll away — but Kyl, sleepy and content, just sighed and held onto Mason’s arm. Not hard, exactly, so much as… hopefully insistent.
He knew, rationally, this entire encounter qualified as a huge mistake. He knew it shouldn’t — and likely wouldn’t — ever happen again… But right then, there, in that moment, they had nothing to do but pass the time alone together until the tempest outside relented long enough for them to fly back to base and deal with whatever the hell had gone so wrong.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Kyl felt Mason relax back down in place, staying curled around Kyl’s back.
Wrapped up in the curve of Mason’s broad body, Kyl twisted around, craning his neck back a little to find his commander’s mouth with his again. A tentative kiss that time, not much more than a light, inviting brush of his lips over Mason’s; followed by a pause, warm breath stirring the air in the tiny gap between them…
And then soft warmth, Mason’s stubble-rough mouth brushing his in return. Kyl’s eyes drifted shut as his lips parted, teeth and tongues exploring with gentle, unhurried touches, hands drifting over still-heated skin. He could still hear, faintly, the renewed storm howling its fury outside the ship, but even that was all but drowned out by the occasional crinkling of the emergency blanket as they shifted; by the quiet hums and softly hitched breaths as he and Mason enjoyed each other for just a little bit longer.
While they still could.
