RETIREMENT. He thought it was going to be a nice, long retirement, and he'd lived in greens for so long that, well. Short sleeves, a flowy cut, and colours that no commanding (or serving) officer would stomach. Fuck the hierarchy anyway.
'This isn't–' Oliver attempts, but Aral has him against the bulkhead and his hands are calloused and strong. 'Aral– Aral!'
'Stop,' Aral advises him, hands creeping up to his neck, 'talking, Oliver.'
'I don't have a problem with this as someone who,' Oliver pants, 'really likes getting fucked against walls, but sir you have a meeting on deck with the Cetagandans in ten minutes and, as your secretary–'
'I won't be late,' Aral growls, voice wet against his ear.
'You'll look like a disaster,' Oliver exhales, but then can't bring himself to focus anymore. His head cracks back against the wall behind him; he leaves a mess on Aral's stomach as Aral keeps him pinned a few moments longer.
'I won't look like a disaster,' Aral says one minute later as he changes out into a perfectly pressed second uniform. He grins, brutally triumphant, and it occurs to Oliver that he hadn't even really bothered to wipe down. 'I'll just smell like one to them.'
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(I am writing you ficlet just now)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
'Stop,' Aral advises him, hands creeping up to his neck, 'talking, Oliver.'
'I don't have a problem with this as someone who,' Oliver pants, 'really likes getting fucked against walls, but sir you have a meeting on deck with the Cetagandans in ten minutes and, as your secretary–'
'I won't be late,' Aral growls, voice wet against his ear.
'You'll look like a disaster,' Oliver exhales, but then can't bring himself to focus anymore. His head cracks back against the wall behind him; he leaves a mess on Aral's stomach as Aral keeps him pinned a few moments longer.
'I won't look like a disaster,' Aral says one minute later as he changes out into a perfectly pressed second uniform. He grins, brutally triumphant, and it occurs to Oliver that he hadn't even really bothered to wipe down. 'I'll just smell like one to them.'
no subject