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Soldiers flooded the room they were in, preluded only by a flashbang that was aimed at just the right place. That was the last thing Gordon remembered before getting knocked over the head by a stun baton and falling to the floor like a brick.
It was a failed mission. It was in the resistance’s best interest to reinforce and have more men reach another outpost across the forest—the Combine was mobilizing around one of their most populated rebel camps—so the closest bases were tasked to move across the outskirts of City 17. And, even though they were far, everyone knew it would be a good idea to have the best strategic minds on the matter. So, despite being what might as well be on the other side of the world, Resistance Leader Calhoun and the One Free Man had to haul ass and make their way towards Ares-6.
Neither of them was to blame when they had clearly been expected. Planned against in all angles and all forms. The second they entered that room, they had set off a trap—an alarm they didn’t know existed until the deceivingly quiet apartment building rattled with the marching of an overwhelming amount of metrocops.
Gordon looked for Barney as soon as he came to.
The resistance leader was nowhere from the angle Gordon sat in, but he couldn’t exactly move. There were ropes around his entire body, and they suspended him to a chair in the middle of a room. A terminal sat right in front of him, but other than that, the room was clear. There were no windows. Only shitty flooring and a wall that couldn’t be any more worse off.
Behind him must’ve been a door. He couldn’t turn around to see it, but he heard it swing open, accompanied by what sounded like someone struggling. Barney. A metrocop walks into view, and if Gordon’s glare could kill, the metrocop would have been wall paste.
“Do not fight.”
Like hell he wouldn’t.
Gordon thrashed when the metrocop grabbed ahold of his arm tied behind his back. Even got a few kicks in, but there wasn’t much he could do with his legs pinned to the chair. A glove slid off with the slightest bit of struggle (that shit was skin-tight!) but other than that, Gordon could only wrench his hand around weakly. Hoping the metrocop wouldn’t be able to do whatever the hell it was going to do.
Something sharp punctured his wrist. It slid out just as quickly as it slid in and he realized it was probably a syringe. To be the savior of humanity, just to get killed by lethal injection. Kind of ironic.
The metrocop patted his arm, once and twice, like some kind of praise for sitting still, and Gordon decided then that the best way to deal with this was to assume indifference, which had worked for those two decades already so why wouldn’t it work here too. Only that you can’t really pretend to be indifferent to some kind of poison, shit, that’s gonna shut down his heart first, but he could die with dignity. Besides, the only thing the injection’s done for him so far was to make him feel sweatier. He could easily be indifferent to that.
Gordon hears a garbled scream behind him and his heart drops. The door was left open. He could hear Barney faintly, but loud and clear at the same time. What the fuck were they doing to him? Was Gordon simply getting the easy way out, and Barney had to get tortured before getting the mercy of death because the Combine knew Barney would have more intel to be squeezed of?
“Gordon Freeman.”
Gordon snarled and glared up in response. He couldn’t talk with his hands behind his back, but the metrocop likely wouldn’t understand him even then.
“Make sure to put on a show.”
What?
Gordon blinked in confusion, but the metrocop was already halfway out the door. Didn’t bother to close it, either. At the same time, the terminal in front of him buzzed to life, set to a dead channel. But the frequency seemed to be changing by itself.
Footsteps behind him again.
“What the fuck did you do to h–”
“Quiet.”
Barney quickly shut up.
The metrocop essentially threw Barney into the same room as him. Gordon could only watch as the man hit the wall next to the terminal with an undignified groan of pain. The door behind them slams shut.
“Shit…” Barney brought up an arm to cradle the back of his head. It hit the wall first.
Barney was wearing a collar.
Both of them were stripped of their weapons, and Barney was missing the tougher parts of his clothes, essentially turning his metrocop armor into a glorified sweater. The cloth around his neck was frazzled, and Gordon couldn’t help but notice the signs of distress on the skin around it, too. Barney looks back at him, one of his eyes bruised and barely open. Definitely taken a beating, and his entire body wasn’t any less.
“Fuck… I…” Barney groaned. He pulled himself up with a wheeze. “Glad to see you still kicking, doc. Thought you were…”
Dead, Gordon’s thoughts finished for him. He was surprised too. He was a shoot-on-sight type of appearance. But he was glad that Barney wasn’t any deader than he was. That was a huge weight off Gordon’s chest and seeing Barney still alive made him feel warm.
“I’ll get that for ya.”
Barney undid the restraints on the HEV suit and winced when the rope dragged against his bleeding fingers. Wasn’t any big injury, but you try getting a tight knot open with a million shrapnel microcuts on your hands. Gordon flexed his arms. [Thank you.]
“Don’t mention it. Now, we gotta figure out how to get the hell out of–”
The terminal crackled to life. Its screen showed the meter on the right frequency, that being this Combine patrol’s personal channel, and then a screen from another room.
Their own camera was on.
“How is it?” The metrocop on the screen jeered.
“How about you go ‘head and fuck yourselves?” Barney spat.
The metrocop tilted its head and the other Combine behind the one heading the terminal shifted.
“Funny, Calhoun. Always been a joker.”
The metrocop gestured to Gordon. “But today, you’re a clairvoyant.”
Gordon looked in confusion. There wasn’t anything different about him. Aside from the sudden warmth that he was sure was his nerve endings shutting down. And nerve endings shutting down were definitely the only explanation for how he almost shuddered at the feeling of Barney hovering behind him. Like he could feel the man through the HEV suit. No. What?
[What do you mean?] Gordon signed to the terminal. One of the metrocops behind mumbled something faintly to translate, and the metrocop-leader straightened.
“Had it not taken effect yet? Do you not feel it, Dr. Freeman?”
Gordon became acutely aware of how his blood was now running hot. And it was running down there. Barney looked between him and the terminal in confusion. “What’s he saying, doc?”
Gordon ignores the question entirely.
[What do you want.]
“I want a show, Freeman. Look at your friend. We’ve done the hard work of taking out all the latches and armor you wouldn’t know how to remove. You make this entertaining,” the metrocop leaned forward, that scrambled voice getting quieter by pitch and louder by proximity to the screen, “and we spare both of you.”
Bastard.
“You’re a very smart man, Dr. Freeman. I’m sure you know what we want.”
Bastard!
Barney’s gaze turned from a look of concern to a look of fear, and that alone made Gordon stir up a storm of guilt, but Gordon thinks the resistance leader hasn’t connected the dots that far just yet. That made it worse. He knows Barney thinks he’s being encouraged to rough him up a bit, do the torture for them, when really it’s far-fucking-worse.
And he has to be the one to explain it himself, apparently.
“Doc…?”
[No.] Gordon shook his head and signed to the terminal again with finality. He wasn’t going to do that. The Combine can get into this room to kill them, alright, and Gordon was going to make sure he gets the jump on the Combine, or he would at least die trying.
The metrocop didn’t need the translator to understand what Gordon was trying to convey.
A scream rang out beside Gordon, along with the crackling electricity of the collar around Barney’s neck. “FUCK!” Barney cried out, writhing helplessly against the wall as the device went on. Gordon’s body moved towards him out of instinct and by the time he got there, the device was turned off again. Barney stared listlessly at the other side of the room. At the door, but there wasn’t much of a stream of thought behind it. Gordon could tell most of the energy was going to trying to breathe normally again. [Sorry.] He signed frantically. [I’m sorry. Barney.]
Gordon looked back at the terminal. [I’m not going to do that. Fuck you.] He repeated the last one multiple times for good measure. He wasn’t going to betray Barney. Defile him and break his trust and fuck with what good life he had with Lauren. God, he wasn’t even going to try showing his face to Alyx. Or Eli. Or literally anyone in the resistance if he dared to.
“Very well.”
Barney’s face twisted up and his entire body seized. Were they turning up the shocks, too? Gordon gripped his shoulders to make sure Barney’s head didn’t hit the wall, and Barney could only drag through it with bared teeth and painful cries. The metrocops were playing with them. Gordon couldn’t take it. Barney didn’t deserve this. Both of them had been through so much hell both separately and together and he was damn sure Barney was too good of a man to deserve this.
But holy shit. The way Barney’s hair felt in his hands. Every time the resistance leader’s limbs knocked against the HEV suit was doing things to him that he was almost appalled by. He wished he could be appalled by it but. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Barney eventually stopped again.
The metrocops remained watching with interest, and Gordon felt the weight of the world in his chest. Part of him would have loved taking death over everything and he would have chosen it first thing if it weren’t for Barney being here and, fuck, if it meant there was anyone else capable of even half of what both of them have already done. But there wasn’t. Both of them were needed alive. Barney twitched harshly, putting pressure on more of Gordon, and Gordon twitched with him.
“What do you bastards even want?” Barney forced out with half-lidded eyes. His voice was small, and it cracked halfway–it was a surprise the terminal even picked it up.
“Dr. Freeman has been injected with an experimental formula of a synthetic aphrodisiac. At least, that’s what we think it does. It gets boring around these parts, I’m sure you get it, Calhoun. So with all that spare time, we’ve made a cocktail of the chemical reproduction-shits we get sent to make life worth living.”
“Now, Dr. Freeman might be able to resist the urges now, but we hoped that…” The metrocop swiveled in its seat. “He would be able to piece together the implications of resisting. What that would imply for you. Losses in all directions.”
Gordon could see the cogs turning in Barney’s head if that expression of horror was anything to go by. Barney’s face settled on a look of defeat, resignation, until coming to this… unreadable, hard look that Gordon could feel burning through him.
“Guess that’s why, doc.” Barney laughed bitterly. “Don’t worry. Been shocked by worse.”
That wasn’t unbelievable. Barney liked to recall stories from the farm he grew up on, and electric fences and cattle prods existed there, right? And Barney was quite adventurous, from what he could deduce. Maybe it had been like that time when a younger Gordon, a million miles away, fixated on a strange wire dangling near the dashboard of his father’s old car that he quickly learned was for cigarettes when he’d already succeeded in burning off his fingerprint.
“Really?”
And Barney convulsed again. Now, in an even uglier way Gordon didn’t know was possible.
His screams were painful and gut-wrenching. Agonizing and Gordon felt like they would last forever but that would be unfair because it wasn’t even him in that collar. It wasn’t his throat with what felt like a million volts running through it. Wasn’t his body knocking against the wall despite Gordon’s efforts because he was that powerless and in pain.
But unlike the other times, it wasn’t stopping, Gordon realized, despite a head that was very much well-clouded. It should have stopped by now. Oh, shit! He held Barney before finally tearing away and signing frantically. [Stop. Stop! Please!]
The metrocop stared as if waiting for something, and Gordon realized.
[I’ll do it. Just stop!]
The wailing ended, as if on cue.
Barney fell limp to the floor, breathing heavily, and Gordon could only sign apologies over and over again. “Doc.” Barney choked out. His vocal cords were probably failing him and he could only muster words that end into his staggered breaths and, fuck, if Gordon was so guilty. What if he dodged that stun baton? What if he never suggested taking a shortcut through the roofs? They would have never had to do any of this. Barney’s hand grasped onto his and holy shit it was a sin that his touch felt that good right now.
“Doc,” Barney pleaded. “Gordon. No.”
[I’m sorry.]
“I don’t want this.”
[Neither do I, Barn.]
Barney stared at him for a long time, then looked at the terminal. It didn’t take long before Gordon realized that Barney was avoiding his eyes. It hurt Gordon so much (and in some sick, sick part of his biology that sad look Barney gave him shot a lightning bolt that went straight to his dick.)
But the resistance leader hadn’t let go of his hand.
Barney called out to the terminal. “Aren’tcha going to give us anything to make this easier?”
“There’s a reason we hadn’t confiscated your machine oil, Calhoun.”
Gordon’s eyes widened, and Barney winced as he reached down and pulled out a small container of machine oil from one of his pockets. He mumbled out a small of course before throwing it at his other hand and holding it out for Gordon to take. Gordon stared at it blankly. Half in what? and the other half in this is fucking ridiculous.
And the other half in disgust. Another half in rage. Another half in that disgusting arousal until he’s got a Zeno’s paradox of mixed emotions that funnel into nothing but a sad heap. “What?” Barney looked away, glaring at the floor. “You lead. I’m not about to… about to do all that. And I’m an old dog, Gordon. Ain’t flexible. And this is the least you could do.”
Hesitantly, Gordon took the machine oil. Barney handing Gordon the reins essentially meant that it settled who was going to be on the receiving end, too. Of course. He would make this easy. He could grant Barney the choice of being able to dissociate while it happens.
The resistance leader worked off his pants while Gordon took off the HEV’s codpiece, relieving an erection that was moments away from being painful. He shimmied off his pants underneath and gave Barney what little privacy he could still give until Barney came back and settled himself on Gordon’s thigh, essentially sitting on his lap while Gordon sat on the floor and leaned his side to the wall. They went to the side of the room in clear view of the terminal for this. Gordon made sure the angle would let Barney lean his back on the wall, too, because this probably wasn’t a position comfortable enough to be holding.
[I’m sorry.] Gordon signed before slicking up his fingers.
“I know.”
Barney shuddered when Gordon inserted the first finger. Should Gordon try to make this pleasurable, at least? Or would Barney hate the thought of getting off to this? Gordon thought that at least the pleasure would make this easier, and he could definitely give Barney that, but then Barney starts acting all pretty and suddenly Gordon’s cloudy head can’t exactly tell if this was an act for the metrocops on the other side of the terminal or something genuine.
Gordon felt Barney’s hot breath where the resistance leader has settled himself into the crook of Gordon’s neck and, fuck, if that wasn’t doing wonders for that primal part in his head. Gordon felt his dick twitch when Barney let out a particularly sharp breath as he put the second finger in, and Gordon had to keep his head from swimming at those little noises Barney made as he moved his fingers in and out what space he’d loosened.
Barney hadn’t loosened up at all, really.
[I won’t hurt you.] Gordon signed with his other hand, temporarily taking it off where it was supporting Barney’s side.
“I know, Gordon,” Barney breathed out. “You… you wouldn’t…–”
[Calm down.]
A glare. “You think I ain’t trying, doc?”
[You don’t have to stay here, Barney. I’ll take care of you.]
“I don’t do that zoning out thing you do,” Barney interrupted himself by shuddering out a sigh as Gordon worked his fingers inside him. “I can’t. That’s not how I…”
[Then let me make you feel good, at least.]
Gordon felt Barney relax, and he moved his fingers as gently and as efficiently as he could. He heard Barney mutter something next to his ear, and that encouraged him to gradually pick up the pace again. Something Barney could adjust to.
They eventually found themselves panting in unison as Gordon’s lungs get the wind knocked out of them every time Barney trembled on top of him. Barney had never looked this good before. Face flushed. Stupid grin off his face for once. Hell, Gordon hadn’t even considered Barney as anything other than his best friend (something that hurts now, because they definitely won't be best friends after this), and now it’s like the world ended outside that room.
“Let’s get this over with, doc.”
Gordon withdrew his hands, drawing a shaky sigh out of the resistance leader before snaking off his boxers and letting his own cock get freed. Gordon slicked it up and gave a few tentative strokes before realizing that it was useless because, shit, he doesn’t think he could get any harder than that. Barney’s eyes darkened at the sight. Despite being naked in the showers before and knowing that Gordon wasn’t small in any way, he never thought he would be on the receiving end either.
[You okay?]
Barney looked at him blankly and nodded.
Carefully, Gordon propped his dick against Barney’s hole and guided him down. Slowly and carefully, and with more Barney’s initiative because if anything, Gordon was just something for Barney to hold onto right now. Barney sank down by himself. At a point, Barney stopped, realizing his own participation and squeezing Gordon, almost begging to hand the reins over again.
Gordon could do that.
He switched their positions up fairly quickly, surprising Barney. The resistance leader had his back to the floor now, Gordon on top of him and Gordon made damn sure that the terminal could see it because if he needed to put any more effort into making a show for the cameras he’d rip out the terminal’s wires. Gordon briefly pulled out, not really leaving Barney’s heat, then pushed in again. In. Out. Almost mechanically. Inching deeper with every small thrust until Gordon finds himself so lost in it that he only comes back when he’s buried to the hilt.
Barney was underneath him, one of his hands over his mouth, spilling with noises that loved setting fireworks in the back of Gordon’s head. Barney’s eyes were half-open. Looking at every part of the room but Gordon himself and there’s that feeling of guilt again but Gordon couldn’t feel it right now because he was both right there and so far away. His mind was moving through a river of honey and fuck it was everywhere and it felt so good and Barney felt so good that all the pleasure outweighed the feeling that any of it was wrong.
Gordon growled, leaning closer to Barney’s chest. The bulk of the HEV suit was a nuisance but that didn’t stop him from putting all of his weight on the resistance leader and fucking into him with abandon. The initially slow pace was starting to be long gone, or as long gone as it could get because the drug had started messing with Gordon’s sense of time now too and he couldn’t tell if he’d been going for seconds or minutes or hours, but Barney was still conscious, so it could be any of the first two.
“S-shit, doc,” Barney took his hand off his mouth in favor of speaking, but he kept cutting himself off with moans that made Gordon’s head spin. “Gordon–”
Gordon responded by biting into what he could of his neck, making Barney cry out in pain and tilt his head. Gordon’s heart dropped when he came to again and he licked at the bite as an apology, but he didn’t know if it helped when Barney’s body twitched with a sob. The resistance leader settled on biting his glove to prevent more moans from coming out when a particularly hard thrust made him cry out anyway.
Suddenly, it became Gordon’s life goal to get Barney to make that sound again.
Gordon thrusted deeper, harder, anything to make Barney cry out and he reaped. Barney made the filthiest noises that made everything in his brain go blank and hyperaware at the same time but if there was anything he knew it was that it felt good and if Barney was making those noises then it probably felt good for him too, right? God, he hoped. He hoped Barney would forgive him for this. If he couldn’t save their friendship by preventing this from happening, then he could at least make up for it by making Barney feel anything remotely close to what he was feeling right now.
He crawled off of Barney. Gordon was still thrusting but he was upright now. Both of his hands were free and he used one to sign while the other was on Barney’s cock that had gone ignored until now. [I’m sorry.] Barney probably couldn’t even see it. He didn’t know where Barney was right now, but since Barney didn’t dissociate, then Barney was still in the room. Barney was just staring at the ceiling with teary eyes, maybe. That’s okay. He’ll sign it again. [I’m sorry.]
Gordon thrusted into Barney feverishly while pumping his cock at the same time. [I’m sorry.] It was messy, coordination was shit, so he’ll sign it a fourth time. [I’m sorry.] Then again, and again, and again until Gordon realized his climax was coming but Barney’s wasn’t so he had to hold off until Barney did but fuck, it was getting so hard.
He pumped Barney even faster. Barney was a moaning mess by then but Gordon was still too drunk to see or hear or anything else, so the only thing that told him that Barney was spent was when the resistance leader clenched around him and made a mess of his hand. Gordon could swear he saw white when he followed soon after.
Then black right after that, too. Shit, he was so tired…
He woke back up when he felt a gentle papping on his cheek.
“Gordon.”
He came to his senses. They weren’t on the floor anymore. His upper body leaned against the terminal while the screen was set to a dead channel. Barney hovered above him, standing with his weight on one leg, and that was the painful reminder it took for Gordon’s cheeks to burn up in embarrassment.
“No hard feelings, doc.” Barney gritted out. “Let’s settle this when we get somewhere safe.”
Barney was covered in blood and holding a stun baton. His eyes were blank and the only color on his face was some dark red that Gordon could imagine him getting as he caved a metrocop’s head in with his hands. There were two metrocops in the corner of the room with broken masks and bleeding faces. One of them had a broken-open shock collar stabbed through the neck. The other corpse wasn’t as desecrated, though. Barney only stole the armor off of it.
They both trudged out of the room through the open door, Gordon supporting Barney as he limped.