Archive of Our Own

Carolina was not a small woman. It ran in the family; Church had gotten the short end of the gene pool in that he was both chubby and short; Carolina had inherited a large frame, too, but she had the height to go with it - she was built like an ox, frequently much to her opponents’ distress. (It wasn’t a prerequisite for Freelancers; South was tiny, angry, and could slip a knife between your ribs while you made short jokes with your buddies. Carolina had seen it happen.)

She’d had a lot of partners over the years, the range of sizes and shapes varying wildly from one to another - though she’d had to be a little more delicate with her smaller partners, as evidenced by the fact that she’d almost broken York’s wrist once. Poor guy never could catch a break. That was why she was happy with Caboose; if she was built like a redheaded ox with daddy issues, he was built like a bear and a tank had had a baby, then shoved it into blue armor.

That was to say, Caboose could and had bench pressed Carolina before, so when he came up behind her and scooped her up with one arm, it wasn’t very hard to guess who it was. None of the other Blood Gulch Crew came close to being able to do that - aside from Sheila, who lacked the arms for it - and none of the Feds or News would be so stupid as to try sneaking up on her. (Apparently, Church and his buddies had been telling stories about Project Freelancer; Carolina wasn’t sure if she was happy about that, but being looked at like a bad-ass was certainly doing things for Washington’s self-esteem, so she hadn’t said anything about it yet. Let the kid have a little fun for once.)

Her shriek of laughter bounced down the hallway, and Carolina turned her head to grin at Caboose, the curve of his jaw being the closest thing she could see. “Caboose! You wanna use me for weight training again?” Carolina asked, a little breathless. Last time, ‘weight training’ had devolved into a mess on the mats in the back of the weight room; she wouldn’t mind a repeat of that, but at this time of day there was sure to be people in most of the training rooms.

A nose nuzzled the top of her head; she could feel the tug of Caboose’s lips as he grinned into her french braid. “No, I did not have weight training in mind. I would not mind sharing you, but I wanted to make you go all toasted and I do not think the others would appreciate that when they are trying to work.” It took her a moment to mentally translate ‘toasted’ - she was pretty sure Chorus had some version of weed, but that was almost certainly not what Caboose was talking about.

“You want to make me...oh! Jelly, toast - I get it.” She chuckled a little; Caboose’s thought patterns were a little scrambled, and his sense of humor certainly didn’t help decode what he was talking about, but she’d spent enough time around him that it was close to second nature now. She wondered briefly how his trainees handled it; hopefully someone had clue them into the wordplay and puns he liked to use, and how it intersected with the straightforward bluntness of his phrasing - then again, considering how much the other sim soldiers liked to make life difficult for their own trainees, maybe not. Making a mental note to send Smith a message, Carolina turned her mind back to the matter at hand.

Well, less at hand than she would have liked, considering they were out in the middle of a hallway. Kimball had been very clear that anyone caught fooling around (Tucker) in public (Donut) was not going to like the consequences (everyone). Both Wash and Simmons had kicked Tuckers’ ankles to stop the man from spouting off his ‘catch phrase’; he didn’t need to draw Kimball’s ire, no matter how good of an opening he saw. That woman could chew him up and spit him out, and they all knew it.

“You’re lost in your brain again.” Caboose murmured, shifting on the balls of his feet, swaying the both of them slightly. “I would like to know what you have pictured. I hope it is not a bad thing. That would be sad.” His lips trailed down the split of her hair, meeting the bump of her braid and nosing it out of the way. His breath was a little ticklish against her scalp and the curve of her neck, but the hotness of it, and his trailing kisses, had Carolina very much back into the present as he ducked his head low enough to nibble at the back of her neck. “I do not like it when you are sad.”

Carolina rolled her head a little, her hands shifting their grip on the arm Caboose had wrapped around her stomach. “No - sorry, ‘Boose. I’m not sad, I was just thinking. We ought to get out the hallway - we don’t want Kimball to hear about us out here.”

“I would not care if Kimball heard us. She is pretty. And scary. ...Maybe Church would like her.” Caboose’s voice was low, his breath now tickling the back of her ear as he spoke, a light squeeze of his hand a silent reassurance to quell any jealousy that might have sparked from his words. Carolina didn’t mind; she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what Kimball might look like outside of that armor of hers.

“I don’t think we can spring that kind of thing on her, though. Maybe we should ask her what she thinks. ...without Church.” Carolina pointed out, kicking her feet slightly, to see if they could brush the floor; no such luck. If she curled her legs and pressed her feet back, she’d probably hit Caboose’s shins. “But right now we need to get to a room. Put me down? For now?” Carolina suggested, adding addendum to make sure Caboose didn’t take it the wrong way and think she disliked it altogether - he was sensitive like that, she’d discovered, and it had taken some coaxing to convince him she really didn’t mind being picked up - just not in front of Kimball or her aides, and definitely not walked off with during that same interrupted conversation.

Her feet touched the floor again, armor creaking slightly as it readjusted to her weight. Caboose didn’t quite stop touching her; she could feel the gentle weight of his armored hand on her hip, resting there after he’d set her down and slid it back across her stomach, metal whispering against metal. She leaned against his bulk briefly - it was like leaning against a wall - and then started forward purposefully, Caboose’s hand slipping from her waist as they moved. The two of them had only gotten a few feet down the hallway when Caboose grabbed her hand, pulling the surprised ex-Freelancer into...what looked like a supply closet, if she was any judge.

“Caboo-mmmh!” Her question was interrupted in a very pleasant way - Caboose’s lips pressing against hers cutting off his name neatly. Letting go of her surprise, Carolina pressed her lips against his, the dry brush of it making her heart beat quicker. It was chaste now, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Pulling away briefly, she met his lips with hers again, darting to press kisses on the edges of his growing smile, laughter bubbling up inside of her as she saw a delighted gleam in those chocolate-brown eyes. “Caboose, I - mmh - meant one of our rooms - - but, but this’ll do.”

He pulled away from her, now, leaving Carolina on her tiptoes as she tried to follow him. “Good. I wanted to see you soonest. Waiting is boring.” Caboose grinned down at her, smile now spread out and brightened. She could see the happiness in his face even in the dim lighting the small room offered, and it made happiness flutter in her own chest. The click! of the door’s lock engaging was a small sound not missed by the redhead, her smile curling into something hotter as her heartbeat picked up again. God, she hoped nobody came across them looking for a mop.

His hands reached for her shoulders, and Carolina braced to be moved, maybe (hopefully) pulled into another kiss - but was startled into opening her eyes again when the hiss-pop of the armor locks on her shoulder disengaging was what she got instead. The confusion in her bottle-green eyes must have been obvious, because Caboose sounded patient when he spoke. “We cannot do anything very fun in our armor. We cannot knit, or bake, or have sex, unless what Tucker does counts, but I do not think watching people have sex counts as sex, really, even on his little helmet computer, uh, thing, no matter what he says.”

That provokes a snort of amusement from Carolina - why wasn’t she surprised that now that the Reds and Blues had contact with even a rough sort of civilization, Tucker had found a way to get porn on his HUD - and jostled her brain back into motion. “I don’t think it does either.” She agreed, letting Caboose lift her unbuckled armor off of her neatly. He’d had practice with it, after all. In turn, she helped him get the trickier latches on his armor, until both sets were stacked neatly by the door - while it was possible to have sex in armor, it wasn’t comfortable or easy. Most people only did it to say they’d done it; Carolina knew from experience, since she’d done the same thing about three months after she’d gotten her first set. ...and then about a month after they’d arrived on Chorus, too, she’d done it with Caboose, just to say she had. (Watching Wash turn three different colors when she bragged about it to him was definitely worth the crick in her back from actually, well, doing it.)

Stripped down to the smooth black suit that a necessity to wear underneath the heavy armor, Carolina found she was once again very grateful for the necessity that meant it had to be skin-tight. God bless whoever designed this shit., she thought faintly, watching greedily as Caboose bent down to set his boots next to the deep blue stack of armor, his high-necked shirt folded neatly on top of his breastplate. Entirely unwilling to resist the urge, she moved behind him, curling her arm around his waist - it was meant to be an echo of their situation in the hallway, although with her arm wrapped around his side, her hand barely grazed his belly-button. On the other hand, the closeness of their bodies gave her plenty of range to hook the other arm around, too, and shove the slick material up til it bunched at the top of his ribs and she could trail her hands down the cut of his stomach, her breasts pressing against Caboose’s broad back.

Caboose straightened as her hands tugged his shirt up, and Carolina could feel the muscles in his stomach twitch and jump as she teased over the sensitive skin - and she could feel them tensing, too, as he flexed for her, a small laugh sounding from his throat as the Blue soldier caught and held her hands loosely in his own as they drifted toward the band of his pants. Carolina rested her chin against the jut of his shoulder blades, pouting. “‘Boose?” She prompted.

He let go of her hands and turned around slowly, giving her time to correct her balance before he moved too much. Hands now resting on her own hips, the redhead raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he turned all the way around, an excited look on his face that she was beginning to recognize as something that would either end with something broken, and/or an amazing orgasm. Thankfully, between the two of them, things tended towards the second option - aside from that time they’d broken the shower curtain rail.

“I want to -” he gestured with his hands, something she didn’t follow. “I - you...um.” Caboose trailed off, looking frustrated. Sometimes he just couldn’t find the right words; she was almost certain whatever Tex, Church, and O’Malley had gotten up to inside his head was at least partially to blame for that - the Blood Gulch crew all said he’d been different after that, and it as little wonder.

Carolina grabbed his hands, cupping them between her own. “Caboose, it’s okay. Take your time, move me if you want. I trust you.” The beaming smile he gave her was entirely worth any frustration, and she squeezed his hands in reassurance while he leaned down again to make his happiness well-known; Carolina knew she’d look well-kissed for hours after they breathlessly broke away; she was even panting a little.

His hands disentangled from her own and the large man stepped back to look around the room; there wasn’t much inside of it, this far away from the main ‘hub’ of the underground base. One wall held a few stacks of rickety-looking chairs and cleaning detergent. Another one was empty, dusty, and she hoped he didn’t want to fuck her against the wall - grime was less than sexy, no matter how hot under the collar they were. The third wall had the door and their stacks of armor, scuffed and well-worn; it was the last wall that had Caboose giving an ‘aha!’ when he turned and caught sight of it. Carolina shuffled to the side to get a better look; a table had been shoved against the far wall - sometime recently if the lack of dust on the top was any indication. She eyed it suspiciously; could it hold both of them? It didn’t look broken, but that didn’t mean the two of them could both fit on the thing without it giving way beneath them.

She said as much to Caboose, who shook his head at her concern. “But it does not have to hold both of us.” He sounded smug. Carolina squinted at him, tilting her head slightly. Well, if he had a plan, then she’d just have to stick by her word and trust him, wouldn’t she? Caboose gestured for her to come closer, and she went easily, bare feet quiet against the cool floor. In a carefully telegraphed motion, Caboose scooped her up into both of his arms, the scarred Freelancer shrieking a laugh as her feet came off the floor. He held her close, Carolina throwing her arms around his neck reflexively, muscled arms flexing under her weight as he held her easily.

Moving gracefully for all his bulk, Caboose twirled her around in his arms, Carolina’s legs kicking out as they laughed together. She lifted herself up, kissing along Caboose’s collarbone and neck as they came into her reach, grinning as his hands flexed; one hooked under her knees, the other kneading her ass - that was the excuse Carolina was going to use for why her kisses turned sharp, small hickies trailing along the line of Cabooses’ throat, brown skin puffed and dark when Carolina’s mouth moved on.

Eventually Caboose stepped closer to the table, something Carolina only noted in the back of her mind, intent as she was on the small, breathless squeaks he was letting out as she worked a piece of muscle between her teeth and tongue, the flexing grope of his hand something she squirmed down onto, pressing herself closer to the heat of his body, his broad, bare chest now marked with loves bites. His descent to putting her down was a slow one, marked by a long pause when she sucked and bit at one of his nipples on the way down, then had to lean to do the other one. Couldn’t leave her man uneven, now could she?

“C-Carolina, ah! I have to p-put you down now.” Caboose insisted, firmly, as he set her on the ground again, close enough that Carolina felt the edge of the table press against the small of her back. She leaned against it, lightly, letting out a mental sigh of relief when it didn’t collapse at the first touch like she’d expected. Most of Chorus was tougher than she’d thought at first glance; it seemed that even its’ tables could surpass her expectations. Arms crossed loosely over her chest now, Carolina looked up at Caboose, neck titling back a hair uncomfortably as he stood with his hands lightly resting on her thighs. Carolina was tall, but Caboose towered over even her - he’d probably be about even with Maine in height out of armor, she estimated, but a little slimmer, not that that was saying much. Maine had always been built like a wall, and The Meta hadn’t made him any softer.

His hands were certainly softer as they cupped Carolina’s face, tilting her head up as Caboose brought his mouth down onto hers. This kiss was lighter than their others, hunger burning underneath it as Caboose’s hands dropped from her face to ghost along her sides - Carolina broke away from their kiss laughing, squirming as Caboose lightly retraced his path down her ribs. She felt the puff of his breath as he laughed quietly at her reaction, as delighted by it now as he had been when the sim soldier had first discovered her ticklishness. His hands ending their wandering to settle on the curve of her hips, thumbs sliding over the jut of her hipbones while he worked the bottom half of her suit down.

“Let me -”

“I can -”

Carolina started, hunching over a bit to move his hands out of the way - at the same time Caboose bent to get a better grip on the slick suits’ edges. The crack of their heads knocking together was mostly just loud, not very painful, and Caboose grunted and stepped back while Carolina reached up to rub what had to be a red mark forming on her forehead. Wincing, she looked over Caboose, shuffling where he stood as he unconsciously mirrored her action. Carolina reached out for him, touching his arm lightly. “Sorry. You okay?” She asked quietly, relieved when he nodded, face clearing as the dull pain faded. Pushing herself from the table, Carolina moved into his personal space, reaching up to brush a curl of his thick hair from his face. “Want to fuck me now?” She asked, gratified when his eyes grew sharper and intense.

“No. I do not think that table will hold both of us...but it will hold you.” Caboose shook his head, gently turning Carolina around, hands hovering over her waist as he stepped forward, bumping his chest against her shoulders to shuffle her forward as well. Two of his fingers tapped the opposite hip as he curled his arm around her waist once more, and she tensed and nodded, letting him easily pick her up, the thick bar of his arm sliding up under her breasts as he lifted Carolina. Her hands worked at shoving down her pants as he fumbled a bit with them, having only one free hand. Carolina curled around his arm to wriggle them down as her panties rolled along with them, kicking them off and belatedly thinking it would have been a lot easier to just take them off before he picked her up. Oh, well.

Her attention was quickly diverted as Caboose shifted his grip, both hands, now, holding Carolina’s waist, and she slowly bent over the table, arms moving to catch herself and transfer the balance of her weight to her arms as they spread widely, elbows jutting in opposite directions as she leaned against the cool surface of the table with Caboose pressed behind her, slightly to the left, his body curling over her as he pressed light kisses down her spine, the arch growing more pronounced as his free hand kneaded her breast. Carolina realized she was making noise and bit her lip; they were in a storage room, after all, and she really didn’t want to lose out on an orgasm because she got too noisy.

Then Caboose’s hand pulled away from her and he straightened up a bit, the heat of his body over her diminishing. “Do you want me to stop? Is it not good?” The worry in his voice had Carolina hurrying to reassure him, voice strained with need.

“No! No, it’s good - I just didn’t want to be too loud.” she explained, hands clenching into fists against the smooth table beneath her.

“I want you to be noisy. I like it.” Caboose’s tone was petulant, and it made Carolina giggle. “They are noises made for me. I want to hear them.” He added, and Carolina giggled harder - a small oh! escaping her as his hand suddenly slid along the curve of her thigh.

“Okay, okay, I’ll - heh - be louder f-for you, ‘Boose. Just, nnh, keep going!” The redhead groaned, thighs parting as thick fingers slid along the edges of her folds, wet and very ready for some action. The drag of his callouses made Carolina gasp, eyes squeezing shut; when Caboose’s fingers dipped into her, she heard the large man such in a breath, his hips grinding against her as he teased her folds open, the first two fingers of his hand barely inside her yet. The wait made Carolina whine, a petulant edge to it, rocking herself onto his fingers.

Not that she could move much; while he held her pressed against him, she was stuck - pleasantly so, but it did limit her movements all the same. She trusted him with that, and hoped her knew what it meant - it wasn’t something the Freelancer could put into words, not something she could articulate. She wasn’t even sure that it meant anything, in the scheme of ‘them’, but it meant something to her, and it made some part of her that was always on alert go a little slack, just for a while. Just in his arms.

“More, fuck, now! Caboose!” Carolina sighed - if she was more truthful it was closer to whining, but that wasn’t romantic, and anyway Agent Carolina did not whine - her demanding tone deepening out in a low moan as he complied, breath tickling her ear as Caboose chuckled, his baritone egging her on.

“Mmh, no fucking, ‘Lina. Isn’t this just as good?’ His voice was quiet, so much so that if he hadn’t been pressed almost against her ear she might not have been able to hear him. It might have been annoying if it was in any other context; now it was just hot, teasing. It made her shake in the best way, his thumb brushing against the hood of her clit, the blunt surface of his thumbnail pressing against it and making her jolt, hissing in a breath.

“Not if you don’t - oh! y-Yeah, like that, oooooh Christ come on, yes!” She was panting, Carolina knew, a little too loud, maybe, as Caboose adjusted his hand, turning his wrist to rub the pad of his thumb, now, over her clit, rubbing it in hard, circular motions. Carolina gasped in response; small, intense noises choking in her throat as her mouth fell open, her head falling down in reaction as her pussy clenched around Caboose’s fingers, working their way deeper into her.

Filthy, wet sounds filled the air, a layer of noise underneath their murmurs and pants, a mix of each others’ names in hushed encouragement and gasping elation as Carolina edged closer to that crest, the insides of her wide, muscled thighs slick with wetness. His cock, covered by his suit still, was pressed hard against the curve of her ass and thigh, an ego-boosting reminder that delighted the Freelancer. She rocked into his hand, against his cock, Caboose’s aborted groans and surprised laugh making the redhead giggle herself.

When Carolina came, she wailed out a wordless noise, teeth biting into the meat of her wrist to muffle the sound, huffing short, gasped breaths through her nose as Caboose’s fingers kept curling and working, letting her ride it out, tightness of her walls fluttering around his fingers as aftershocks cracked through her body, back curling and arching as she rode him, fierce and elated and loving.

Realizing her nails were making gouges in the plastic table she was leaning on, Carolina flattened her hands and pushed, wriggling against Caboose’s body as she did so. “‘Mmmh, ‘Boose. That was - that was great, baby, but ‘m done.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” He sounded husky, a little hoarse, adoration as clear in his voice as it was in hers. Arm flexing - the muscles in it were probably stiff, and no wonder - Carolina felt her feet touch the ground, and she took a wobbly half-step to get her bearings back, legs still a little weak. The redhead stood and leaned back into Caboose’s chest again, tilting her head up as she did, lust making her voice throaty.

“Let me return the favor.” She suggested. Caboose growled in agreement, voice strained, and Carolina laughed, the sound loose and carefree.

------------------

I don’t know what you see in him, anyway. When she eventually picked up her HUD, a message from Church was waiting for her, the little notification light blinking patiently.

Carolina sent a simple reply back. He makes me laugh.