“Lights out,” the Commander says, and turns them off, tripping once on a kit bag on the way back to bed - the others don’t have the best night vision. This location is on the edge of a small town, and there is very little ambient light through the small windows, making the room almost pitch dark. It seems that they’re allowed to sleep.
Fifteen minutes later, Agent Crabbe is definitely asleep, her breathing steady. Agent Rollins is drifting, probably close to the border of consciousness, where a sudden sound or movement will wake you but your thoughts will creep further and further into dreams. The study of them both occupies his attention, although he is careful not to move. He will not sleep until the rest of them do.
The bunk below him creaks quietly.
The light from the phone is just about visible. It’s not extremely bright, but the angle it’s tilted (away from the two others in their beds) make it noticeable, the way he’s lying. Noiselessly, he shifts closer to the edge. From here, he can see the screen itself.
It’s fairly obvious what the people on it are doing - the same thing that people have always done, except he’s never really seen it in filmed in such vibrant colour and clarity. It must be a feature of modern life, whatever ‘modern’ is supposed to mean to him. He doesn’t know what year it is, and that’s ok. He doesn’t need to know. It might have been a long time - he suspects it has been, so much has changed - but that’s ok. He doesn’t need to know.
He watches the men on the screen, and it stirs nothing in him. Should it? Maybe it used to. Maybe it would work with women. Maybe both. It’s definitely stirring something in the Commander, who (as Agent Rollins predicted) has a hand down his pants. Or under the covers, at least, working at a leisurely pace. There’s no sound other than breathing, and nothing from the phone; the Commander has figured out how to connect the standard-issue comms earpiece, so once again, wires are unnecessary. (The trick is remembering to switch the source back when you’re done, so your mom can’t call you mid-mission. And nobody monitoring the comms can hear your mom calling you mid-mission.)
The Commander’s face is lined with the light. He bites his lip gently, in response to something happening on the screen, and his hand speeds up. It’s not clear exactly why, which merits leaning over a little further, just to see….
Bunk Bed Porn - Fill 2/?
Fifteen minutes later, Agent Crabbe is definitely asleep, her breathing steady. Agent Rollins is drifting, probably close to the border of consciousness, where a sudden sound or movement will wake you but your thoughts will creep further and further into dreams. The study of them both occupies his attention, although he is careful not to move. He will not sleep until the rest of them do.
The bunk below him creaks quietly.
The light from the phone is just about visible. It’s not extremely bright, but the angle it’s tilted (away from the two others in their beds) make it noticeable, the way he’s lying. Noiselessly, he shifts closer to the edge. From here, he can see the screen itself.
It’s fairly obvious what the people on it are doing - the same thing that people have always done, except he’s never really seen it in filmed in such vibrant colour and clarity. It must be a feature of modern life, whatever ‘modern’ is supposed to mean to him. He doesn’t know what year it is, and that’s ok. He doesn’t need to know. It might have been a long time - he suspects it has been, so much has changed - but that’s ok. He doesn’t need to know.
He watches the men on the screen, and it stirs nothing in him. Should it? Maybe it used to. Maybe it would work with women. Maybe both. It’s definitely stirring something in the Commander, who (as Agent Rollins predicted) has a hand down his pants. Or under the covers, at least, working at a leisurely pace. There’s no sound other than breathing, and nothing from the phone; the Commander has figured out how to connect the standard-issue comms earpiece, so once again, wires are unnecessary.
(The trick is remembering to switch the source back when you’re done, so your mom can’t call you mid-mission. And nobody monitoring the comms can hear your mom calling you mid-mission.)
The Commander’s face is lined with the light. He bites his lip gently, in response to something happening on the screen, and his hand speeds up. It’s not clear exactly why, which merits leaning over a little further, just to see….