(A/N) So I've had this little plot bunny hopping around in my head ever since we learned the tower of procreation was a thing. Doesn't seem like alien technology like this would be too far off the mark. Point being that when I started, I set out to write smut. Then angst and fluff and all other manner of things got in the way and we ended up with a more or less complete story. IMO, the smut part isn't even all that great, but I had fun, and I certainly hope you do, too.

Warnings: Sex pollen, dub-con(ish), masturbation, intercrural sex, anal sex (and that should about cover us).

Ignite

Looking back on it after the fact, Wash supposed he should blame the whole incident on his own curiosity. But then, using the word blame implied that you somehow regretted what had happened, and he knew he would never regret what had happened for as long as he lived.

The whole business had started at the end of a training mission at one of the simulation outposts. He and Maine had been pitted against South and C.T. for this particular exercise and things had been going well until Connie had been injured by one of the sim troopers. It wasn't anything too serious, but she and South were both still slightly irked at losing out on the objective to the two of them. They'd all been waiting on Four Seven Niner a little outside of the primary extraction zone, as Connie couldn't reasonably move any further, when Wash found himself wandering away from the group to scope out a side tunnel that hadn't been on the map of the cliff network.

The cliff face wasn't technically part of the outpost, so they'd been told to ignore it, but when it had ended up as Connie and South's last resort for retreat, Wash and Maine had fallen back to join them. In the interest of keeping on the lookout for trouble, Wash had gone over the schematic for the tunnel network – and quickly discovered an unmarked tunnel.

"Maine," he reported back to his partner over their private channel. "I've got something that wasn't on the map. I'm heading in to check it out," he said, drawing his magnum as he moved down the tunnel.

Careful, the message from Maine flashed across his HUD. Don't go too far. I'll be down to back you up in three minutes.

"Right," he muttered, though he could already see a faint blue glow at the end of the tunnel. What was happening here? There weren't supposed to be any active hubs outside of the outpost and his bioscan wasn't picking up anything living in the cavern ahead of him. So what was this?

Peeking into the cavern before completely leaving the safety of his cover, Wash saw that one side of the cavern was lit up by a bank of blue lights. The opposite side was lined with a collection of display cylinders, all of which had a featureless metal orb hovering above them.

"What the hell is this?" he mumbled to himself as he ventured further into the chamber. He slowly lowered his weapon as he walked along the display wall, but he didn't holster it completely.

Each cylinder had a ring of text printed around the base. He couldn't read any of it, but he recognized enough of the characters to know that the language was Sangheili. So this was Covenant technology of some kind. Only – how was it that it hadn't been marked on the map? How was it that Project Freelancer had set up an outpost here without knowing about this?

Wash was about to report back to Maine when his gaze was suddenly drawn to the sphere one from the end of the line. He had no idea why, but he felt a sharp jolt pass through his body when his eyes locked onto the small artifact.

David.

Wash's eyes immediately snapped around the chamber, magnum again held at the ready. He had no idea where the whisper had come from, but he could have sworn he'd heard his name.

"Maine?" he called out nervously, but there was no one there.

David.

Once again, his gaze was pulled back to the orb. This time he felt a more subtle tremor pass through his body, leaving him trembling beneath his armor.

"Yeah," he said, nodding skeptically. "I suppose you said that, huh."

You're ready, David.

"S-stop it!" he shouted, taking an involuntary step backward, but even at that, he found he couldn't move any further away from the strange little device. Something was keeping him there – holding him in place.

You're ready, David, the uncanny whisper sounded in his head again. Where is your mate?

"Mate?" Wash repeated, uncomprehending. He had no idea what was happening and what he did next was probably against about a hundred different regulations, but for some reason, he just couldn't help himself. He stepped forward – reached out to take the orb in hand…

"What are you doing?" Maine's voice came to him from the far side of the chamber just as his fingers closed around the sphere. He gasped quietly as a wave of energy passed through him, causing a sheen of cold sweat to break out all over his body. He felt the warmth of the small object as if he'd grasped it with his bare hand. At the sound of Maine's voice, he felt a very familiar heat begin to pool in his belly.

"I…I don't know," he mumbled in a dazed, slack-jawed sort of way, pulling the orb free of whatever anti-grav field it was suspended in. When he turned to face his partner, he almost thought he could see the worried expression beneath Maine's visor. "Maine…"

Matthias, the strange whisper licked at his ear again. Yes. He is the one. Go to him. The link must be completed.

"You're…the one," he repeated, not at all sure of what he was saying.

"Wash? What's wrong?" Maine asked him uncertainly, slowly lowering his gun as he entered the chamber. "What's happening here?"

Wash slowly shook his head as he took several faltering steps toward his partner, feeling the heat of the thing clutched in his hand spread to the rest of his body. Vaguely he wondered why his suit wasn't regulating his temperature.

"Matt…I…" he mumbled softly, not wholly able to articulate what was happening to him. As Maine drew closer, the younger freelancer felt a flush spread across his cheeks, feeling every pinprick of sweat trapped between his suit and his body as his skin became a hundred times more sensitive. His lips parted slightly and his mouth ran dry as his gasps of breath ran rough through his throat. He felt a fresh tremor run through his thighs as his cock began to stiffen. Something inside of him ached with need. He didn't understand what was happening, not one little bit. He just knew he needed Maine here with him right now.

Matthias.

This time, Maine was the one to hear the unsettling whispering. Like Wash, his gaze briefly darted around the otherwise deserted chamber, but it was quickly drawn back to the thing Wash held clutched so tightly in his hand.

"The fuck?" he muttered, glaring suspiciously at the tiny, plain thing.

Matthias, the little whisper tickled at his ear again. Matthias, you're ready. David is your mate. Reach out and take him. Claim him for your very own. Come. Drink of his lips.

Shaking his head in an effort to dislodge the whisper, Maine struggled to push back the thoughts its words had inspired. Deciding it would probably be best to put the strange piece of alien tech back where they'd found it, he reached to take it from Wash.

However, the moment both he and Wash had their hands on the sphere, everything changed.

He could see everything.

He could see the universe spin out around them, the two of them suddenly galaxies unto themselves amidst a totality of endless form, color, and darkness. He could see the way each pinprick of light stretched out to connect every atom of his being to Wash's. Energy flowed around them, through them, between them – binding each sinew irrevocably together. He was Wash and Wash was him. It was far more profound than any intimate experience he'd ever had in his life. And as they were twined together, he saw to the heart of Agent Washington.

David.

He was born on Earth. He had very few memories of his mother. There was the image of a smiling but slightly sardonic face looking down on him as he was tucked into bed – laughing blue eyes that he knew he shared. There was the memory of a warm embrace as he was cuddled on her lap, and the memory of a stuffed bunny she'd given him that he'd slept with every night.

Mommy loves you so much, you little troublemaker.

These were the only memories of her he knew to be his, and not something someone else had told him. After all, he'd only been four when she died. Most of his early memories were of his big sister, Kathryn – a little spitfire with red hair who was currently their C.O. They'd always been there for each other, even when the adults in their lives couldn't be. Kat kept the bullies away and let him cuddle up with her at night whenever he had bad dreams.

Don't worry, kiddo. Nothing's gonna get past me. You and me, two forever.

They'd been raised by their father and their aunt, but he knew it had taken them time to recover after his mom's death. For her sister and her husband, Allison Church had been the center of their world, and the loss of her had cut deep. It was the reason why his early years consisted mainly of Kat. His aunt had recovered first, taking up the care of her niece and nephew when their father hadn't been able to. Kat remembered their mother, but Aunt Gwen was the only mother he'd ever really known. She was the one to kiss booboos and help with homework and make peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I'm so proud of you, baby bird. Don't you ever change.

His father had taken longer to recover. Really, he wasn't sure if he ever had. As with his mom, he had very few memories of the man his father had been before. He remembered games of hide and seek, a lopsided pair of glasses, black hair made messy from fingers constantly being run through it, and an exhausted but genuine laugh. That didn't match with the man who came home tired from work every day, expression distant as he retreated to his study. At first he didn't understand why, but his father couldn't look at him a lot of the time. Aunt Gwen was the one to explain to him just how greatly he resembled his mother. So his father both hated and loved him. He did love him, but he couldn't always look at him.

I do love you, David. Whatever else is in my head or my heart is my own failing, not yours.

He watched with pain in his heart as Kat, Aunt Gwen, and Dad all drifted toward the military, all in pursuit of the ghost of Allison Church. If given the choice, he probably would've rather become a vet, but he didn't want to lose his family, so he'd pursued the ghost, too. He'd followed an academy course of study to become a captain in the UNSC Marine Corps, a position he'd only held for a few months before being recruited to Project Freelancer by his father.

You're here because you earned this spot. You deserve it. He doesn't play favorites, not with this project. If there was someone better, he would've picked them.

Then there was his new roommate – Agent Maine. Except for his sister, it seemed like everyone was afraid of Maine. David had felt he should be at first, but something in him was drawn to the strong, silent Spartan. Something in him made him want to sit and listen to all the things Maine didn't say, discerning meaning in ways even Carolina had never managed. They got to a point where they worked so well together, they were like two halves of the same whole. Every time he sat in comfortable silence with Maine, or they worked in sync during a mission, or he just watched the other man sleep on the other side of their shared room – every time they drew closer – he feared falling in love with him. He had seen what love had done to the rest of his family. If he let himself love Maine…and he lost him…he didn't think he could bear it. Besides, what could a man like Maine possibly see in a scrawny nothing like him?

Not nothing, Maine's heart sang as the strange energy thrummed between them, and the moment the thought was born, it was given to Wash – connected – just like all their other thoughts. Wash was seeing just as much as he was – seeing the truth of him.

Matt.

He was born on the outer colony world Aurelia, a patch of ground hotly contested between the UNSC and the Insurrection before the war. Growing up, he'd known nothing but fighting. Regardless of that, he'd still had love in his life. He was the oldest of five children, an older brother to four little sisters. They'd been a noisy, rambunctious pack of mutts, but he'd loved them dearly. It had been his responsibility to take care of them.

I need you to promise me that you'll protect them. If anything happens to me or Dad, I need to know you'll be there for them.

He hadn't fully understood why his mom would need such a promise. He would have done it anyway, and in the end, it had come down to him. When he was eight, their parents were killed in an Insurrectionist raid. Then, barely two years later, they'd lost their home when the Covenant glassed Aurelia.

Matty…I'm scared. I want Mommy.

Five homeless orphans. No one had wanted them. They had no one but each other. What could he do to make a better life for his sisters? When the SPARTAN-III program had come to the orphanage seeking recruits, he'd practically thrown himself at the recruiter. He hadn't been strong enough to do for his sisters. This was the only way he could become stronger – help to stop all this fighting and make the galaxy a better place for his siblings.

If you survive, you will have the strength you want…but you will have to give up yourself in order to attain it.

Really, they would've preferred his youngest sister, Roxy. He was a little older than they wanted, but he was absolutely not going to let his sweet baby sister become a lab rat for a bunch of crazy scientists who didn't even know if their program would succeed. That was for him to do. So he'd followed his fellow recruits to Onyx and Matt Hawthorne had perished. Matthias-A223 had risen to take his place.

If you want to survive, fight! No one will save you. Your tomorrow, your life – you have no choice but to grab it with your own two hands.

They had wanted a monster. A monster was what they got. He'd been flat out told his odds of surviving the augmentation procedures were very slim, so he'd gone right ahead and survived anyway – just to show those bastards. By the time he'd hit puberty, he was already a living weapon – a man grown a long time before his mind was able to handle it. So he hadn't. He'd become what they'd wanted, fought when they'd said to fight and killed when they'd said to kill. A perfect soldier. Demons the Covenant called them. Maybe it was true. He could kill with little more than a thought, and maybe that was what the Director had wanted.

They say you are different from the others, Matthias. I'd like to test just how true that is.

He'd been pulled from his company. They hadn't told him why – simply that he was being reassigned. He hadn't learned the real reason for several years, when Project Freelancer had gotten off the ground and Matthias-A223 had been replaced yet again, this time by Agent Maine. Even among the freelancers, he'd had a fearsome reputation. He couldn't communicate with them in the same way he'd been able to with his Spartan brothers. Even more isolated than he already had been, he was left to wonder if maybe the recruiters had been right in the first place. That he'd had to give up who he had been in order to be what he needed to be. He hadn't been in touch with his sisters since leaving for the program. Sometimes he wondered if Matt Hawthorne had ever existed at all. Was he anything more than a demon?

Hey, big guy. Don't listen to those assholes. We got this.

To answer that question had come Agent Washington, assigned as his new bunkmate when Georgia couldn't be located. The rookie had struck most of the others as too inexperienced at first and they'd all assumed he would drive Maine crazy and wind up in the hospital within the first week. It hadn't happened. Against all expectations, Wash had a strangely calming effect on him. Sometimes the kid would talk, other times he'd just sit and listen. Whatever it was, Wash somehow seemed to understand him. He understood him in a way no one had since he'd been pulled from his first company…hell, since he'd last seen his sisters, even. There was just something about Wash that made the supersoldier want to be a better human being. But that same something also reminded him how far off the mark he was – how undeserving he was of a man like Wash. He wanted to love him – did love him – but was constantly reminded of just how incapable he was of real love. He was a beast bred for war. It would be only too easy for him to hurt Wash in some way, and Wash deserved so much better than that. He deserved someone who wasn't a monster.

You're not a monster, Wash insisted the moment he had hold of the thought. You're the best man I know.

All of this and more passed between them in only a few moments. Maine couldn't really recall dropping his gun, but was suddenly aware of taking Wash's free hand in his, the orb still clutched tightly between them. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way, but he still recognized the stirrings he felt, shifting beneath his skin and coiling in each synapse. Running a thumb along Wash's gloved palm, he suddenly ached to feel the other freelancer's skin against his – and Wash knew that.

"David," he said softly, the name on his lips and in his heart, stretching out through the link between them, just one more thread tying them together. "David."

"Matt," he returned just as softly, voice just on the verge of a moan as they leaned closer together. Maine gasped sharply at the tiny sound, as if it had physically stimulated him. Wash shuddered with need, feeling himself just on the verge of losing control. "Oh, God."

They were faintly snapped back to reality when their helmets clacked awkwardly together, the sound nearly deafening in the vacuum between them. The shock of it caused them both to release the artifact, leaving them standing barely an inch apart. The mental link was broken, but the feelings it had inspired remained.

For several long moments, the pair stood perfectly still, afraid of the world outside the connection, but also afraid of what might happen when time started moving again.

Maine was the one to finally break the still silence, growling softly as he reached for the clasps on Wash's helmet. The younger freelancer inhaled sharply upon hearing the hiss of the release mechanism. He gripped the hand that Maine still held just that little bit tighter as the larger man lifted his helmet away, exposing him.

For another small eternity, Wash just stood there, feeling Maine's eyes trace every inch of his face just as surely as he might have with his fingers. When his hand finally did come up again, it was to trail his fingers delicately over Wash's chest plate, resting briefly over his heart.

Wash felt his pulse quicken at the contact. Without needing to think about it, he reached his own hand up to unclasp Maine's helmet, pulling it away with ease and letting it drop to the side with his own.

When they were finally gazing into each other's eyes, Wash didn't so much see Maine's hand as feel it caress his flushed face. He gulped, trembling as he felt the gloved thumb trace a steady path along his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly as he leaned into the touch, feeling a thousand lightning sensations spark from the point of contact.

"Fuck…Matt," he groaned, unable to help nuzzling against the other's hand.

Maine moaned low in his chest, painfully aroused by the sounds coming from the younger man's mouth. When he looked into Wash's blue eyes, he knew his own pupils were blown just as wide as his were. Desperate to feel more, he slid his hand around the back of Wash's neck, gently cupping the back of his head as he rested his forehead against the shorter freelancer's. Like Wash, he was standing at the very edge of his ability to control his actions, only he was terrified of what could happen if he lost control. If he wasn't in control, he might hurt Wash, and he couldn't bear that. He did and did not want this to happen, but he was fast losing the ability to choose. His skin was alive with currents of electricity and his veins ran with streams of liquid fire, such was the strength of his need. It was worse than any augmentation he'd ever undergone.

"Say it again," he hissed before he could stop himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as his grip on Wash tightened involuntarily.

Wash whimpered at the intensity of the sensation, not certain what was keeping him from closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Maine's. "Matt," he exhaled on a needy moan, his breath mingling with Maine's as they breathed together.

That did it. Maine cried out, feeling himself go completely hard beneath his body suit, his body's absolute insistence that he take the man before him singing in his blood. "David," he groaned in both ecstasy and agony. "I- I can't…we can't…not like this."

"Why not?" Wash moaned desperately, hands reaching up to grip Maine's face, afraid he might try to pull away, even though he wasn't completely certain either of them was capable of that. If Maine didn't want him now, he really might die. Whatever this was might actually kill him.

"Don't…don't want to hurt you," he whispered, struggling to form coherent thoughts. "I can hurt you…can break you…too damn easy. Monster," he snarled quietly, fighting with everything he had not to breach this last barrier, not to cross this final half-inch and claim the kiss he'd been aching for ever since he'd first known Wash.

"You're not a monster," Wash insisted again, wanting to soothe the terror in Maine's amber eyes even as his body screamed for the other man's touch. "I know you. You're my partner – my friend. I'm not afraid."

Maine might have surrendered at that, were it not for the sudden interruption of South's very annoyed voice.

"What the fuck are you two bitch faces doing down here?! Extraction's here! I've been calling and calling! Were you two fucking sleeping?" the angry Dakota demanded as she barged into the chamber. With Maine standing in front of Wash as he was, she couldn't see the compromising position they were in.

"We'll…be right there," Wash strained to speak, thankful for South's temper for once in his life. If she was as impatient as her voice suggested, she wouldn't notice anything strange. "Go on. We'll catch up."

Huffing in annoyance, South spun on her heels and headed back out the way she'd come, leaving the two to physically tear themselves away from each other.

"What…what the fuck's happening to us?" Wash wondered aloud, tightly gripping his own arms in an effort to prevent himself going right back to Maine. "What's going on?"

Maine just grunted his own uncertainty, going to pick up the orb they'd dropped. It didn't appear any different, but when he gripped the small device in his hand, he could actually feel it burn. The pain of it was actually a godsend, helping him focus on staying away from Wash. Not being with him right now was physically painful. Tearing himself away from him had felt a little too much like tearing one of his own limbs off.

"Right," Wash muttered, struggling to keep ahold of himself as he went to grab his helmet. "We'll just have to see if they know anything," he said, though he really didn't know how he was going to survive the flight back to the Mother of Invention when every minute he wasn't with Maine felt like drowning.

XxX

"So, Agent Washington, when you say you saw everything-"

"I mean everything!" Wash snapped at the Counselor before he could finish. "I mean I saw his life through his eyes. It's like I was him. And he saw me. We saw everything."

Both of them would've rather kept just how much they'd seen to themselves, but with an unknown situation like this, withholding any information could prove dangerous, so they'd divulged everything to the Counselor and the other doctors. Both agents now stood at opposite ends of Recovery, very specifically not looking at each other and relieved they hadn't been forced to strip for this examination, neither particularly fond of the idea of revealing just what sort of state they were in.

"And I take it simply…letting the chips fall where they may is not a viable solution?" Price asked.

Maine snarled in frustration at this and Wash shook his head, fingers practically scraping against his armor as he gripped at it. "Skipping right past the part where you explain what that means…Maine's afraid of hurting me," he explained for his partner as he glanced to the corner of his vision, but fought the urge to turn and actually look at Maine. "This feels…like we wouldn't have any control over ourselves if we just…let it happen. He's afraid if he loses control that I might be hurt."

"That is true," the Counselor granted as he looked over the latest data set. "With Agent Maine's augmentations, he could easily do irreparable damage if left unable to restrain himself. But it isn't a matter of willingness between the two of you?"

Maine answered that one with a soft rumble, and Wash couldn't help the small smile that turned up the corners of his mouth at the gentle tone, but he had to bite his tongue in order to keep from turning around.

"No. It isn't."

"I see. And neither of you would consent to copulation under supervision?"

Wash felt something in him rebel at the notion of calling it copulation, but more than that, the offhand way in which Price had brought it up made him angry. "Fuck. No," he growled at the Counselor, voice almost as deep as Maine's. "I get that you're trying to be practical about this, but it…it's private. I don't think either of us want this to be subject to your poking and prodding. It's supposed to be between the two of us. So if you could just leave it alone, that would be very much appreciated," he said, the threat in his voice quite plain.

"Of course," Price answered calmly, moving away from Wash to examine the artifact, which they had suspended in some sort of diagnostics machine. "But you do realize that if the status quo does not change, you may not have a choice in the matter."

"What…what do you mean?" Wash pressed, pretty sure he already knew, but needing to hear it just the same.

"You are both…ah…running very hot at the moment," the Counselor explained, taking a few moments to come up with as mild a term as he could. "Both of your systems are rife with chemical imbalances and you are secreting hormone levels that can normally only be borne by a human being for a short period of time. If this continues unchanged, these conditions could prove fatal. I'm sure you understand that if no solution is found, we may have no choice but to instigate a scenario – under our supervision if Agent Maine is still concerned for your safety."

Wash swallowed painfully at this, but ended up nodding. Much as they both might hate it, if it was a choice between definitely dying from whatever it was that was coursing through their veins and the possibility of Maine harming him, he knew they'd go through with it. Until such a time, it looked like all they could do was wait.

"Unfortunately, it appears we may have learned all we can from this artifact with simple scans," the Counselor reported after he'd looked over the latest readouts from the machine. "And that isn't much – simply that this device seems to stimulate untapped regions of the brain, and as it was clearly not designed with humans in mind, who could say what other effects it might be having. If I may, there is one thing I'd like to attempt before we release you."

"What?" Wash asked.

"I would like to attempt contact," Price explained. No one had touched the orb since they'd brought it back from the simulation outpost. They'd simply had Maine deposit the little thing directly into the machine.

Maine grunted uncomfortably, but ultimately shrugged. Wash nodded slowly. "If you're sure you want to risk it, go ahead."

"All right then," the Counselor said, retrieving a probe that had been laid out beside the machine and using it to bypass the anti-grav field the sphere was suspended in. All he did was brush the artifact with the probe, barely more than a feather light touch, but both agents immediately wished he hadn't.

Price got off light, only being thrown back by a very strong current of electricity for his trouble. Maine and Wash were the ones to suffer when the orb was touched by someone not them.

They both heard an intense shriek emanate from the sphere at the moment of contact, their mental link reactivating briefly as they both screamed right along with it, clutching their heads in pain.

Incomplete. Incomplete! INCOMPLETE! the strange hissing whisper now shrieked in their heads, repeating over and over again, playing over a counterpoint of words and half words.

Maine.

David.

Washington.

Matt.

Wash.

Matthias.

Stop-

Can't-

Don't fight!

You're ready.

Incomplete! INCOMPLETE!

The bond is incomplete.

He's your mate. Your match!

Why are you fighting?

Don't fight this.

Go to him. Complete it. Let go!

Wash wasn't completely aware of what was happening, but when he finally did manage to break the surface of conscious awareness again, he found himself on his knees in front of Maine. He wasn't sure when they'd torn each other's helmets off, but that seemed to be what had happened. They were crouched together on the floor, foreheads pressed together and hands clasping each other as they each pressed fervent kisses to the other's fingers.

"Matt…Matt…oh, God…Matt!" Wash whimpered over and over, each broken cry a prayer for mercy as he pressed kiss after kiss to Maine's trembling hands. He was only too aware of how painfully aroused he was and he just wanted everything to stop. He wanted for everything else to just disappear so he could lose himself in Maine.

"Wash…David…fuck…God- fucking- dammit!" Maine snarled, kissing Wash's hands with just as much fervor as he gripped them tightly in his own. God help him, but he needed this too much. It was only with the realization that the Counselor and the other doctors were just going to let this happen that he finally found the strength to regain control, tearing himself away from Wash with a strangled cry of, "NO!"

Maine retreated as far from Wash as he could get, pressing himself against the far wall of the room and curling into a ball, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the look of hurt on his partner's face.

"Can't…can't…won't!" he snarled weakly, fingers gripping at his armor until it actually cracked in places. Such a feat of strength hadn't been recorded before and that just made him all the more afraid of what he could do to Wash in this state.

"I…I'm sorry," Wash whispered, feeling at fault for this. He was ready to give in. He trusted his partner completely, but if Maine was still frightened, then he himself would be the monster for letting it happen now.

Maine shook his head as he struggled back to his feet. "No…my fault," he mumbled before barreling out of Recovery without waiting for permission to leave.

Wash reached for his helmet before climbing back to his feet, but before he could put it back on, Price fixed him with a very stern look.

"We both know this cannot go on, Agent Washington. It will kill you both. You must find a way to convince him."

"Right," Wash responded, though he shook his head at the same time. He really had no idea how to make this work. "I'll try. I just…I don't think we can be around each other right now. I…I'll see him tonight."

"Good. If there's nothing further, then you may go."

XxX

Maine couldn't say how long he wandered the Mother of Invention before making his way to the training room floor. Carolina was just finishing up her evening training routine. Most everyone else was at dinner by now, but that was Carolina for you. When she saw him approaching, she tilted her head sympathetically to the side.

"Wash told me what's going on," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder when he reached her side. "You doing okay, big guy?"

"Not dead," was his grunted response, fingers curling into fists as he asked F.I.L.S.S. to set up the obstacle columns. Target practice wasn't going to do him much good right now. He needed something to physically lay into.

"Need a sparring partner?" she asked. "I'm free."

Maine tilted his head upward in imitation of raising an eyebrow. "York?"

"I think he'll be fine if I miss one date night. I guess I just feel like if you two aren't going to get any sleep, I shouldn't either."

Maine shook his head firmly before pulling away from her, going to one of the columns and leveling a devastating punch at it, immediately reducing the solid material to rubble. He needed to be able to unleash his fury and frustration right now without fear of hurting anyone.

"Go," he said quietly.

Carolina nodded as she watched. "I get it. You need to break stuff. Maine…I just wanted to let you know I appreciate this."

"What?" he asked, not looking back at her.

"I appreciate you putting him first like this. D-…Wash…he hasn't had very many good relationships in his life. I knew you cared about him, but…to see you place his safety above your own needs…I appreciate it. I won't forget," she told him.

"I would die…before I let myself hurt him," he answered slowly, glad she couldn't see the pained expression on his face. He really had been only an inch from breaking down ever since he'd touched that damned sphere.

"I know, but that doesn't mean I appreciate it any less. To know that there's someone who loves him like he deserves, well…it makes me happy," she said softly.

"You know?" Maine repeated with a bark of bitter laughter. "Price fucking wasn't surprised either. Does everyone know?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Probably," she said, shaking her head, and he could just picture the exasperated smile beneath her visor. "Honestly, I think I knew from the day you guys met. Pull through this and we'll throw you two a goddamn party. Just let me know if you need anything," she said before turning and heading off the training floor.

Maine threw himself at the columns with a vengeance, unleashing his pent up frustration and anguish through his fists. God fucking dammit! Why was everyone so willing to trust him with Wash's life when he didn't even trust himself? Didn't they see what he could do with just his bare hands?

Fucking why? he demanded in his own head. Why aren't you afraid of me, David? You should be. Everyone else is. I'm the monster they wanted, so why can't you just let me be a goddamn monster? Monsters don't get to fall in love. They lose love. You wouldn't…make me lose you…would you?

There were no answers to his questions. Wash himself didn't know why he wasn't afraid. Wash just knew that he loved. Against his own experience and better judgment, he loved. He looked at the creature everyone else saw and saw something good in it – a man worth loving. Maine just couldn't let a heart like that be wasted on someone like him, or be hurt by his hands. That was why he was going to fight this for as long as he could, until it killed him if necessary.

Why do you resist? the haunting whisper scratched at his mind yet again. This man is your match in every way. His is the existence that will make you happy.

I'm not supposed to be happy, he argued back, plowing through another column. Whatever I might feel, none of it would be worth it if I hurt him.

Stop fighting. Let it go, the alien whisper urged, strangely gentle.

"NO!" he screamed aloud. "I won't stop! Every second for the rest of my life, I'll fight. I would rather die than hurt him!"

I know it doesn't seem that way now, but the longer you resist, the worse the damage to you both will be. You won't hurt him. You're ready. What you need to do is trust him. Just trust him.

"Sure," he muttered. Cuz listening to the voices in your head has historically worked out so well for people. I'm going to handle this the way I've always handled everything. On my own.

XxX

Wash had said he would see Maine that night, but he honestly wasn't certain if Maine was going to be returning to their shared room anytime in the near future. Maine had other ways of working off sexual frustration. Wash was going to try a much simpler approach, even though he felt pretty sure it wouldn't help anything.

When Maine didn't make an appearance, Wash hunkered down naked beneath the thin blanket on his bunk and immediately wrapped a trembling hand around his stiff cock. As he began to work at himself with sweating fingers, the wicked thought of Maine walking in on him briefly crossed his mind, but he quickly quashed the idea. Much as he wanted that, it would be bad. Instead he contented himself with thoughts of his partner's body.

It wasn't as if he'd never jerked off thinking of Maine before. Where once it had been something of a forbidden thought, now he could let his mind roam with the knowledge that it wasn't one-sided. His bunkmate wanted this just as badly as he did. Even though the current situation was painfully less than ideal…Maine wanted him.

With every stroke, Wash let his mind wander over a precious memory of Maine's body.

The perfect line of his back as he did pushups…the bulge of muscle in his strong shoulders…

Oh, God…

The strength in his hands…the unexpected softness of his wrist that one time Wash had grabbed it…

Fuck…

The strangely gentle curve of his neck…the hard line of his jaw…the slight curl of his lips on those rare occasions when he smiled…

Maine…

The sight of him shirtless…the firm plane of his chest and stomach…what those muscles might feel like clutched in Wash's hands as the other man thrust into him…over and over…

"God…Maine…" he mewled, hips bucking involuntarily against the friction of his hand.

The brief glimpses he'd caught of the other freelancer's ass in the showers…the even briefer glimpses of his dick…strangely shy for someone who had no reason to be…

Fucking…Christ…

Maine's beautiful amber eyes…the way they could focus so intensely on him…what it would be like to look into those eyes during sex…

"Matt!" he cried out, body jerking painfully as he came, coating his hand with his release. But as wonderful as the orgasm felt, he still ended up curled into a miserable little ball when it had finished with him because he was still hard. As he'd feared, masturbating seemed to have only made it worse. His blood was still on fire and his skin still prickled with sensation. It looked like the only way he was going to get real relief – was with Maine.

"Dammit, Maine," he hissed, tears in his eyes as he gripped his bedding in tight fists, hardly noticing the sound of it ripping.

Why do you love him? the alien whisper nipped at his thoughts again.

"I don't know," Wash groaned aloud. Because he's a good man. Because he's not what people think.

That's not an answer. There are many good men. North, Florida, York…they are all good men, but you do not love them as you love Matthias.

"I…I don't know," Wash repeated weakly. "He…he makes me happy." He makes me want to be stronger…to be a better person.

Because he makes you feel worthwhile? the whisper suggested. Special? Adored? Loved?

"Yes," he answered meekly.

Then what prevents you from going to him and telling him how your heart breaks for him? Why do you still fight this union?

Because he doesn't want it. He's afraid. He doesn't trust me. I won't force him to make that choice. Not until he's ready.

He is ready. You are ready. Do you trust him?

"With my life," Wash spoke aloud again. But more importantly than that – with his heart.

Perhaps you should tell him so.

XxX

By about twenty-four hours following the incident, Wash wasn't completely certain what had kept him from bashing his own head in.

He and Maine had been removed from the training roster until further notice, but he'd asked to be put back on for a spar with York and Carolina, just so that he might have something else to focus on. It was doing nothing, of course. Both agents were thoroughly wiping the floor with him, and when he had to forfeit the latest round, barely able to breathe, Carolina had asked him if she should just go and get Maine.

Wash shook his head, drawing shaky breaths as she and York helped him limp off the training floor. He had to do this himself.

Maine, he sent a message to the other agent's HUD, we can't keep doing this.

Can't we? was the response, somehow managing to be snappy whilst lying inert as words on a screen. I DON'T want to hurt you. Don't make me.

You won't, Wash pleaded with him. I KNOW you won't.

You can't know that.

I can, though. You'd NEVER hurt me. Never. I do know that.

But it wouldn't BE me. This thing…whatever it is…that's what would be in control. How can you know it wouldn't make me do something I don't want to?

Whatever this thing is…it's trying to bring us together. I think it knows what your limits are. It's more than that, though…Maine…Matt. I trust you.

There was a long pause before Maine responded with, You trust me?

I do. Completely. I won't break. I promise. Do you trust me?

Maine himself wasn't far away. He was sitting against the wall just outside the training room with his head in his hands, unable to bear being further away from Wash than that. Trust, that little whisper had said. It had been so long since he'd trusted anyone. Maybe it was time to have a little faith.

Okay, he finally responded. Okay.

Wash, Carolina, and York all looked up when Maine entered the training room unannounced. He felt Wash's gaze lock onto him as he reached for the clasps on his helmet.

"Wash…is this okay?" Carolina asked as she watched Maine toss the EVA helmet aside, slightly unnerved by the hyper intensity of the larger freelancer's eyes on her brother.

"Yeah," Wash answered as he removed his own helmet. "We're good. This is good."

Wash spoke softly, but to Maine, the sound of his voice was deafening. Every single one of his considerable senses was focused exclusively on the youngest freelancer. Even with his armor on, Maine could see the way he was trembling. His eyes traced hungrily over every aspect of Wash's face – his full lips, slightly parted as he drew each ragged breath, the easy curve of his jaw and the flush staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears, the perfect star map of freckles laid out over his skin, and his eyes…goddamn, those beautiful blue eyes. Wash looked at him with such need in those eyes, it about broke his heart.

Wash felt like he could count out years in the spaces between each breath he took. Every moment Maine was not with him was worse torture than anything the last twenty-four hours had doled out. As he looked at Maine, he was amazed to see that he was shaking, too. Throughout this whole ordeal, the Spartan had appeared so strong. To physically see how this affected him sent a fresh pulse of desire firing through Wash's system.

"Maine?" he called out gently, knowing his partner would hear him. He saw those amber eyes widen subtly as the other man mouthed his name.

David.

They were a field of gasoline, just waiting for the flick of a match to burst into flame.

And without warning, that match flicked to life.

Maine wasn't fully aware of crossing the training room floor. All he knew was that he suddenly had Wash in his arms. He was slamming him against the wall as he pressed his lips harshly against the slighter male's, kissing him as if he meant to devour him.

Wash moaned hungrily as their lips crashed together. With nothing more than Maine's kiss, he felt himself come in his suit, loving the absolutely filthy feeling of the slickness beneath the kevlar. Almost immediately, all coherent thought ceased, replaced by the need to just fuck.

"H-hold on," York started nervously as he watched the pair go at each other, clumsily unhooking pieces of each other's armor. "Are they just gonna do it right here? Right fucking now?"

"Uh…yeah. I'd say so," Carolina said, watching Maine just tear away pieces of Wash's armor with a note of uncertainty in her gut. While this was most likely a good thing, she didn't think she much liked the thought of having to watch her baby brother get boned through a wall by her best friend. "Fucking definitely seems to be the idea."

"Well…shouldn't we…I dunno…get them to a room or something?" her partner suggested weakly.

"You think we can get these two to do anything right now?"

"Uh…no. Not anything other than each other, at least," York couldn't quite help ribbing. "Think we should leave?"

Carolina really wanted to say yes, but she also didn't think Wash would appreciate it very much if she let his first time with Maine be on the training room floor. There had to be something they could do about this.

"What in the hell is going on in here?" the perturbed and – dare she think it? – slightly worried voice of the Director interrupted the scene as he and the Counselor entered the training room.

"It seems they finally decided to just let events run their course," the Counselor said, and Carolina couldn't quite help but feel disgusted at the man's undertone of satisfaction. There was no way she was going to allow Price to play voyeur with the two of them, as he'd no doubt been hoping to.

"So…what?" the Director demanded, face already going red as his gaze flicked toward the Spartan tearing open his son's body suit. "These two men are just going to…have at it…right here in the goddamn training room?" Normally he wouldn't have been so conservative with his choice of words, but it was his own son he was referring to, after all.

"It looks that way, Sir," Carolina answered, unable to help smirking beneath her visor. "This is going to happen whether any of us want it to or not."

"Might I suggest moving them to Medical?" Price said. "The results of this coupling ought to be observed for-"

"No, you might not suggest that, Counselor," Carolina interrupted before her father could say anything. When Price didn't continue, she turned to her father. "With all due respect, Sir, these two have been dancing around each other since day one. They're my men…and my friends. I can't just leave them to be observed like a pair of copulating lab rats. The Counselor can talk to them after it's over."

"All right, Agent Carolina," the Director said, quickly gathering the pieces of his scattered composure. "What do you suggest?"

"Let them go back to their bunk and have sex like two normal human beings."

"And are they likely to get that far…given the current circumstances?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Carolina looked back to Wash and Maine at this, frowning slightly. That was the part she still hadn't figured out. Whatever she did, she would need to do it quick. They were both already stripped completely out of their armor and Maine had Wash's body suit partly off, his own ripped open by Wash.

"Fuck…Maine," her brother half-growled, fingers digging into the larger agent's shoulders as their bodies moved furiously together. Maine just outright growled, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Carolina thought she heard, 'Gonna fuck you so hard.'

"Carolina, please do something," York squeaked.

"Oh, boy," she muttered to herself, moving cautiously toward the pair. "Hey! Wash! Maine! Anybody home? David!"

No response. Just more things she'd had no idea her baby brother had in his vocabulary and that she would need some brain bleach for after the fact. "This isn't gonna work. MAINE!" she shouted at her fellow freelancer, delivering a very hard blow to the side of his head. The move served to dislodge him from Wash, but he recovered almost instantly, moving to stand in front of her brother – almost as if he were protecting him from them. The look in his eyes as he snarled at her wasn't entirely human.

"BUNK!" she shouted, drawing the word out. "Take him to your bunk! Get a fucking room!"

Carolina didn't know what had done it, but her words finally seemed to penetrate the fog of the artifact's influence. Maine grunted once before turning and actually picking Wash up, kissing his face over and over as he carried him out of the training room.

"Uh…okay," York mumbled. "I'll take it. So, Carolina…any chance I can talk you into playing with that little toy sometime?"

Carolina rolled her eyes, shaking her head before heading out of the training room. "Gotta stop thinking below the belt, York."

"That wasn't a 'no'," he called to her just before the door closed.

XxX

Wash wasn't really aware of the trip back to their room. All he knew was the feeling of being held in Maine's arms…the press of the larger man's lips against his burning skin. Then, when Maine finally threw him down on one of their bunks, he let out a very pleased cry, eager for more.

Impatient to get back to what they'd been doing, Maine fell on him, hands roving over every inch of skin as he trailed a line of heated kisses along Wash's chest. Wash groaned as he clutched at Maine's back, feeling every inch of solid muscle as his partner's body moved frantically against his.

"Maine…God…Maine," he moaned desperately, barely able to let Maine pull away long enough to remove the rest of his half-destroyed body suit. Fiercely needing the feel of his partner's skin against his, Wash hurriedly helped Maine out of his own suit, pulling him back down onto his body when they were both finally naked. Wash felt his heart flutter when Maine growled against the pulse point in his neck, the rumbling sensation traveling throughout his body.

"Guh…Wash…fuck…Wash!" Maine snarled, unable to get out anything much more coherent than that as he littered the younger man's neck and shoulders with love bites. Wash was his, and he was going to leave himself on every atom of David's existence.

Wash was pretty sure he could go on doing this forever, just fondling and clutching every inch of Maine's body, committing every variation to memory. But there were still other parts of both of them that weren't satisfied, which was why he quickly parted his legs when Maine thrust a hand between his thighs. For a moment, Maine just kept him pinned to the bunk like that, leaving him a whimpering mess as he rubbed at his inner thighs.

"Mai…Matt…please," he panted, hips bucking involuntarily up against Maine's touch. The older freelancer growled low in his throat as he obliged him, beginning to thrust between his legs, feeling the delicious rub of his dick against Wash's slicked thighs.

Wash's head fell back in ecstasy, the things he cried out not even proper human speech anymore, just half intelligible begging and needy cries of Maine's name. It didn't take much more for Maine to come between his legs, releasing with a low, guttural cry.

Aware they were nowhere near done, Maine took a moment to gather his own spill, using it to slick his cock as best he could. Wash didn't need any encouragement to get into position on his hands and knees. By the time Maine was ready, he was already waiting for him. Maine hissed in pleasure as he sank a partly slicked finger into Wash's body, but that was joined by a hiss of pain from Wash's mouth.

For a moment, the animalistic gleam in the Spartan's eyes was shunted aside by a look of pure terror.

Don't hurt him. Can't hurt him. Keep control. Won't hurt him!

"Keep…keep going," Wash urged, grinding himself back against Maine's hand, the pain already a passing thing. "Fucking do me, Maine!" he growled.

Spurred on by Wash's demand, Maine continued to prepare him, his fear falling away with every pleasured mewl that fell from the younger's lips. When he finally pushed into the younger freelancer's body, they were both breathing together, crying out in pleasure as their bodies joined.

When they were fully connected, Maine helped Wash up so that they were both on their knees. He wrapped his arms around Wash, holding him securely against his chest as he began to thrust into him. Wash cried out at the sensation, hands reaching up to grip at the arms that cradled him, nails digging into Maine's skin.

"Ah…oh, God…yeah…like that. Hngh…Matt…" he groaned, head falling back to rest on Maine's shoulder. The larger man turned his head to the side, pressing a kiss to Wash's temple as he slid a hand down to wrap around his dick, making a clumsy effort of jerking in time with his thrusts.

Either way, the contact was heaven to the younger freelancer. With every move, his own bucking became more and more erratic – until finally he let out a high-pitched cry and came in Maine's hand, half-collapsing against the other's chest when he felt his release burst inside him in a single hot pulse. Maine's only sound was a low grunt of satisfaction.

Even so, they still weren't finished. Wash remained hard in Maine's hand and Maine was still stiff inside him. In spite of growing fatigue and overstimulation, they both still felt the fire burning beneath their skin, the need pumping harshly through their veins. What else could they do but keep going?

This time when they changed positions, Maine was the one to lie down on the bunk, easily guiding Wash to crouch over his body so that they fit together just as smoothly as they had before.

Before Wash even worried about trying to move, he leaned down over Maine, claiming his lips in a very deep kiss. Maine groaned into the kiss, reaching up to grip Wash's hips.

"D- David," he moaned into the kiss, gripping as tight as he could without breaking anything. When Wash pulled back from him, for a moment, he just smiled at him, blue eyes alight with more than just the animal lust. For that brief moment, they both felt the flickering of the mental link that had been forged between them.

I love you.

Leaning his head up, Maine briefly touched his forehead to Wash's, tongue darting out to taste his lips again. Then he was lying back and Wash was balanced on his hips, body moving sinuously against his as he rode him.

As Wash moved up and down above Maine, he reveled in the feel of them – of the intense sensation of his partner filling him, stretching him until he absolutely could not take anymore. Then, when Maine struck that one spot inside him and brought him to his final orgasm, Wash found he didn't have any voice left to cry out. His body went rigid above Maine's and his head fell back, mouth falling open in a silent scream of blissful agony.

When Wash reached climax above him, Maine felt his breath catch in his throat as Wash tightened around his cock, drawing his orgasm from him in a sudden burst of pleasure. As Wash slowly collapsed on top of him, Maine was left gasping on the sheets, helpless to do anything but lie there as the wave rode his body.

They both felt the moment the sphere's influence over them was finally broken, leaving them feeling as if they'd run hundreds of miles in only a few minutes. For a long while after, they just lay together on the bunk, tangled up in each other, lacking even the strength to move. Maine was the first to recover a little bit of energy, slowly reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Wash's damp blond hair. Feeling a faint tingling run down his spine at the light touch, the younger freelancer managed to summon up the strength to move his head just a little, rubbing his cheek against Maine's chest.

"Didn't…hurt you?" Maine finally got himself to ask, tensing just a little as he waited for Wash's answer.

"No," Wash answered quietly, shifting his head to look up at Maine. "Could be some bruising tomorrow, but not anything you need to feel guilty over."

Maine nodded, lifting his head briefly to kiss Wash's forehead. Neither was able to hold their head up for very long before collapsing back to the bunk in exhaustion. There was another long stretch of easy silence where Maine just wrapped his arms around Wash, cradling him close against his heartbeat. When Wash next broke the silence, Maine had to shake himself out of a sort of half slumber in order to answer his question.

"So…what happens now?"

Maine raised an eyebrow when Wash looked up at him.

"I mean…what are we?"

Maine didn't quite know what to say to that. Whatever this strange little piece of alien tech had done to them, it had connected them. They knew each other intimately – had walked a lifetime in each other's shoes in the space of only a moment. They knew and understood each other in a way no one else ever could. There weren't really words for what they were.

"Love you," he said softly, adoringly, lifting his head once more to draw Wash into a tender kiss. When they separated, Wash was grinning up at him in a dopey, besotted sort of way.

"Mm…I know. I got that part. I love you, too. I just…I don't know. Boyfriend doesn't really seem to cover it."

"Lover?" Maine suggested.

"I dunno. You can go with that if you want; I don't mind. Nobody in their right mind would make fun of you, but if I go around calling you my lover, I'm gonna be even more of a dorky newbie rookie than I already am."

Maine growled softly at this, but there was also a chuckle behind it, the teasing threat quite plain to Wash.

"Yeah, I know you'd kill anybody who made fun of me, and that's sweet, but I think we both know it wouldn't be long before we were left with an empty ship."

Maine shrugged in response, shifting Wash up along his chest to make their next kiss easier. When they separated again, he asked, "Does the label matter?"

Wash chuckled quietly, sighing as he laid his head back on Maine's chest. "I guess not. Husband's not too formal, is it? Are we supposed to get married now?"

Maine smiled warmly as he rested his chin against the softness of Wash's hair, loving the feel of the younger man's head pillowed in the crook of his neck. "I think we already are. Might need to get some paperwork done, but…what happened in the cave…pretty sure that was a wedding. We're in this together."

Wash smiled as he cuddled closer to Maine. Really, some part of him had known that. He'd just needed Maine to say it. The label didn't really matter, because they were married already. Like Maine had said, they were in this together, and when Wash looked up into his gentle amber eyes, it was with the perfect word on his tongue.

"Partner?" he suggested, tilting his head playfully to the side.

"Partner," Maine agreed, purring as he pulled Wash in for another kiss, knowing he'd never be able to have enough of kissing his partner. They were not going to be leaving this bunk until the Director sent someone to physically drag them out.

XxX