New Year's
Jan. 17th, 2011 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Hannibal/Face
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
This is for sonora coneja, who filled my prompt here: http://community.livejournal.com/ateam_prompts/2941.html?thread=1397885#t1397885, with this utter beauty, here: http://community.livejournal.com/ateam_prompts/2941.html?thread=1404541#t1404541.
And, being my obsessive self, I couldn't stop thinking about the gorgeous little world she wrote for me and....I begged for more, to which she graciously agreed.
So here's my prompt.
The night after the party. Committing themselves to each other. Then when he stops and thinks about it, maybe General Jackass gets wind of the unconventional nature of Face's transfer? Maybe he gets his panties in a twist? I really want to see Hannibal in verbal whup-ass mode, protecting his boy.
And the sex, o'course.
Face isn’t quite sure what it is to commit to somebody, but Hannibal’s going to show him what it all means.
As it says in the prompt, the sequel to All Things Considered
Face was strangely quiet on the ride back.
He drove, having had less to drink, but the silence, the way Hannibal could almost feel him folding back inside himself, was enough to shock the older man back into full sobriety. Something was wrong with the lieutenant, his lieutenant, and that wasn’t going to do at all.
Face missed the winding little street that led back to Hannibal’s house, and as the major had him circle back around and hit the correct stop sign, he looked over. Saw tears in the kid’s eyes. “What is, Face?” he asked softly, resisting the urge again to just lean in and kiss it away. Better to let the boy tell him, rather than tease it out of him.
“Sorry,” the lieutenant said, and ran the sleeve of his jacket over his cheek. He sniffed once, and tried to smile. “Guess I’m a little worn out.”
Worn out. Interesting choice of words, Hannibal thought, and put his hand over where one of the kid’s hands lay on the shifter. “Let’s get home.”
And that time, the smile was real.
It was late, really late, like 0200, by the time Hannibal fumbled his keys out and unlocked his front door. Face was still quiet, but he hadn’t protested at all, laughed actually, when Hannibal had been there, holding his door open for him. “Not a goddamn girl,” he’d chuckled, but let Hannibal help him out anyway.
Now the kid was sitting on the kitchen counter, watching him with those brilliant blue eyes, set off even more by the pale button-up he was wearing, legs spread just a little in what Hannibal was pretty sure was accidental invitation, feet swinging. Torn between desire and fear. There was something so innocent about him... “What are you thinking about, Face?” he asked, not really sure what else to say.
“I don’t know, Hannibal,” the kid said and stretched a little. Yawned.
“You okay with all this? The party wasn’t overwhelming or anything, was it?”
And those tears were back, completely unacknowledged, the kid’s expression totally unchanged. “I, shit, this is going to sound really...”
“Just say it,” Hannibal said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, moving to lean on his hip next to the younger man, the edge of the counter digging into his skin a little, and he settled a hand on the small of Face’s back. “It’s okay.”
The kid shot him a grateful look and nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a, uh, been over to anybody’s house for a holiday.”
The way he said it... Hannibal felt his chest clench up, just like when he’d first laid eyes on the lieutenant, and he started rubbing. Just a little, letting the kid know it was okay, that talking was okay. “How long?”
Face wouldn’t look at him, and those tears were coming down now, but nothing else had changed. Almost cold about it. “My girlfriend, college, brought me home with her a few times, but she was Lutheran, her dad didn’t like me...”
Hannibal slid around front of the kid, slotting in between his spread legs, laying soft hands on his knees. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
That got the kid’s head up, and all that wet, wet blue... “For what?”
“For being here with me,” he murmured, stroking up and down now, gentling hm down. Trying to take it slow, trying not to light off the tension he felt building in that strong body. Ignoring his own need, that tension of an entirely different sort coursing through him at being this close to this young man, his...no, not that, not yet, and he pushed it away. Focus, John, what's he need...
But it was barely a question. Hannibal already knew how this worked. How it had worked for him for so long, too long. How tired of it all he was. “It’s easier, isn’t it? In a way, it’s a lot easier. Never having to deal with anyone, never having to worry about any of it, no disappointments, nobody failing you...”
And that got it, the kid’s head buried into the shoulder of his overcoat, hands up around and digging, vice-like, into the heavy fabric there. Trying to hold onto something real, Hannibal thought, and circled the kid’s waist. Face toed his shoes off, kicking them away, and a socked foot snuck up the outside of Hannibal’s leg. The kid wasn’t crying, the need for touch overwhelming any other consideration, and the major held him, just like that, until he felt the weight in his arms shift. Face touched down to the cold tile, sliding off, closer now and so warm, and turned his head so his cheek was resting against Hannibal’s chest. Palms open now.
Breathing hard.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, kid,” Hannibal said, moving his thumbs slowly. “I understand.”
“I know,” Face replied, and nudged his head up, cat-like, rubbing right over Hannibal’s heart to rest his chin on the older man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry...”
“It doesn’t have to be... doesn’t have to be like that any more, Temp.”
“What do you mean? Like...”
“I’d like to keep you, kid. If you’ll have me.”
The kid tried to look down, and Hannibal caught him, cupping a cheek in his hand and forcing the younger man to face him, pulling them apart a little bit to do so. Whatever the answer was going to be, and he felt something flutter in fear deep down, he needed to see it. Needed to see the truth of it in those beautiful eyes. “Kid, I’m not going to force you. But you have to tell me.”
Face wriggled against him, craning up to put a soft kiss on Hannibal’s throat. “What’s that mean?”
And the older man’s heart almost broke. “Means anything you want, sweetheart. Everything you want. Anything.”
“I’ve never...” Face murmured, and swallowed, mouth working soundlessly. He pursed his lips. Nodded, and ran his arm back under Hannibal’s, pulling against his chest again. The major almost groaned. All that warmth, all that passion there, and then... “I’d, uh, I’d like that.”
Relief washed through Hannibal’s lean framed, and he hugged the kid close. “Good, good,” he said, unable to hold it back. “That’s really good, Temp.”
“Yeah...” came the breathy little reply against his neck, somehow sad again and he couldn’t have that, couldn’t have this beautiful boy falling back into the pit a lifetime of neglect had cast him into.
“So,” he teased, trying to pull the kid out of it, “what do you want, Temp?”
“... you, John.”
That name, his real name, on the kid’s lips melted him completely, and they were kissing, wonderful and sloppy and full, shrugging out of jackets and letting them fall on the kitchen floor, hands finding hems and buttons and zippers and finally bare skin, clothing scattering across the living room and tight hallway. His back hit the wall at least twice, Face unfamiliar with the space as they both tugged each other around, but his boy didn’t touch anything but the bed, wide and soft. He lowered him down, nice and easy, careful not to crush the younger man under him.
“Roll over, Temp. Lots of room,” he said softly, and Face, in nothing but his briefs, smiled up at him and started scooting back.
As the lieutenant settled himself back up against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, watching him, Hannibal ditched his pants and socks and boxers, pulled himself up and laid a hand on the kid’s thigh, reaching for a little package on the nightstand. “I got you something too, Temp,” he said, handing the kid the box. “Your present was so thoughtful...”
“Aww, you already got me something, John,” Face said, a blush creeping over his cheeks, and eagerly ripped into it. Then he started laughing. “Lube? Nice.”
“Nothing but the best for you, sweetheart.”
Face’s eyes got wide and his breath hitched as Hannibal brushed a little closer, over underwear and the kid’s bulging arousal. But there he was, trying not to show anything again as he shook the box with a grin, the tube inside rattling against the sides. “Can we try it out?”
“Absolutely,” Hannibal replied, moving in to capture his mouth. “Anything you want, remember?”
A pleased little sigh rushed out to greet him, and Hannibal kissed it greedily off the kid’s lips, just this side of chapped from the cold outside. Keeping the two of them side by side balancing his weight, he dug one hand into that short caramel hair and moved his other off those now-damp briefs, slipping between finely muscled thighs and forcing them apart. He left it there, stroking the tender skin he found there, so soft, and Face gasped, pulling back, toes twisting up.
Hannibal growled, and only barely-just caught the kid from banging his head. “This’ll be so much easier to hold onto when it grows out.” And beautiful was that going to be? Wavy and thick, he was sure of it, heavy with sweat, hanging across that perfect forehead, maybe falling in his eyes, just a little...
“I get... to grow my hair... out?” Face panted, fighting for air, licking his lips. God, he looked edible like this, Hannibal thought, and fought down the urge to just pounce him. Time enough for that later, and he groaned at all the things that could be, would be, because Face wanted him.
“Of course,” Hannibal said, running a finger under the band of the kid’s briefs, tugging a little, giving the kid a hint. He could have pulled those off himself, but he wanted Face to do it, wanted to make sure the kid had meant what he had said, that he wasn’t trying to lie to himself, convince himself of something he didn’t want. “Can’t jump into some banana republic looking like a goddamn infantry grunt.”
Face caught Hannibal’s wrist, smiling at him, and slid his own hand under his underwear, pulling them off slowly and kicking them away. The major closed his palm around the younger man’s cock, letting his thumb rub lightly over the slit. “You’re a Ranger again, lieutenant,” he growled softly, nuzzling behind an ear, nipping without any force. “Need you to believe me about that, trust in that...”
The kid’s hands shot up, locking around Hannibal’s neck, and the major kissed the tip of his nose. “Need you to believe in yourself. Like tonight, I was so proud...”
“I was scared,” he admitted softly.
“But held your head high and didn't let it show. You remembered what you are. Who you’ve earned the right to be...”
The kid laughed, their noses touching. “I remembered what you told me.”
And fuck, if that wasn’t the most erotic thing Hannibal had ever heard anybody say to him in all his life. His hand, slowly stroking the kid’s cock, clenched suddenly, and that lithe body bucked nearly off the bed, the kid moaning in pleasure. “I’ll never lie to you, my brave boy,” he growled, every cell in his body screaming his need for this young man. “Take anything you need from me.”
“... need you, boss,” and it was barely a whisper, but Hannibal heard it more clearly than anything, and he knew it was time.
Lightning fast, he let go of the kid’s length and tugged Face down, hitting flat on the bed, and the kid grinned up at him, twisted a little bit on the sheets purposefully. Hannibal felt his self-control start to slip. Kneeling between those legs now, Hannibal watched them spread for him automatically, one knee pulling unconsciously up, a hand waggling the lube at him. Offering himself. Beautiful.
Hannibal pushed it a little further up, encouraging the initiative and loving the kid for it, almost touching to the kid’s chest. Face wrapped a shaking hand around it, fingers brushing as he laid it down over Hannibal’s, and the major had to lean over and kiss him again. Face handed the lube over and Hannibal squirted an appreciative amount into his hand and onto his fingers, shaking himself with anticipation as he ran a light finger just inside that ring of muscle, working very slowly, being thorough, keeping the kid engaged with the kiss, loathe to break contact.
God, it felt so good, fingers thrusting, tongue exploring, and he wanted everything tonight, Hannibal decided, wanted to sink all the way into the kid’s hot, welcoming body, feel it all. He groaned into the kiss and stretched him wide. No pain for his boy
When he thought the kid was loose enough, he groped blindly for the lube and his Christmas condoms. His fingers closed down on his prize and he sat back on his heels, tearing the wrapper open.
He wanted to take Face bareback, but the young man was still so new at this, he didn’t want to scare him or something. He couldn’t ask for that, not yet. They’d get there. No hurry.
A tentative hand brushed along his own cock, and Hannibal groaned. Emboldened by the noise he’d just received, Face took Hannibal fully in hand, stroking slow and gentle over his painfully engorged length, the exact same rhythm Hannibal had just been using on him. A shudder ran though him at the light ministrations, and he just knew the kid was smirking at him. “Temp, I’m... I'm not going to last if you keep that up,” he said as Face added a little twist, and the hand was instantly gone.
“Sorry,” the kid said sheepishly. “Not used to doing it on one that isn’t mine.”
“It is now,” Hannibal said, rolling the condom on, wanting to punch himself for how ridiculous that just sounded, making a note to fix the kid's habit of apologizing all the time. Wouldn't do on a Ranger. “Everything I’ve got is yours...”
And that hand was back, a little different, and Hannibal realized that Face was slicking him up, pushed up on an elbow, that look of concentration back, brows knitted together. Another simple little gesture that threatening to undo him completely. What was it about this man? “That feels amazing, Temp.”
“Ditto, boss.”
“Lay back, sweetheart.”
Hannibal snatched up a pillow and Face lifted his hip automatically, still watching him, something new in his expression, almost... worshipful, maybe, and Hannibal urged the kid’s leg, the one that was laying on the quilt, up around his hip. He stroked a still-slick finger across the kid’s entrance one more time, feeling the muscles flutter against the light touch, and shuffled himself just so. “Beautiful, Temp,” he murmured, and sunk in.
Wasn’t as slow as the night before, the kid taking him a little easier now, sighing around the sensation where before there was been short gasps. So lovely. Hannibal, still kneeling, rubbed his stomach, urging tensed muscles to relax, murmuring words of encouragement. Telling Face how amazing he felt, how hot and tight and how perfect, and he was. But the major offered him no quarter at all, didn’t stop, didn’t even think about it, until he felt his hips hit and he was completely encased in that squeeze of heat.
“Oh, fuck!”
“You okay?” he asked with gritted teeth, trying to resist the urge to start thrusting wildly, and pulled his fingers down the kid’s side, giving him time to adjust. “Need me to...”
“...fuck, boss, please...please,” he breathed, and a hand slid around the back of Hannibal’s ass, down his own straining thigh. “Please, John...”
“You never have to beg,” he said softly, and pulled out just a little, pushed back in. Both men groaned and Face’s hand got a little tighter. “Just tell me.”
“Move, fucking hell... please....”
Hannibal started out as gentle as he could, setting a slow pace that barely took him out and barely pushed back in. But as Face’s initial discomfort faded, as his stomach relaxed and the little grunts turned into pleasure-filled gasps, Hannibal pulled out further, sunk in deeper, and...
“Oh, god, r-right there!”
Jackpot. The kid nearly bucked clean off the bed, and Hannibal fell forward over him, catching himself on his elbows, kissing him quickly. He did it again, catching that angle. “Here?”
“Yeah, right there, oh, fuck...” he said, and pressed up against him like this, Hannibal could feel the shiver that ran through the kid.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against sweating skin, and picked up the pace.
Face was crying out now, delicious little screams tearing loose with every downstroke, his body finding its frequency with Hannibal’s, taking him deeper each time, and both his legs were wrapped around the major’s waist, feet kicking and sliding in turn, cock trapped and leaking against Hannibal’s belly.
And Hannibal could feel everything like this, everything, and couldn’t help going harder, going faster, feeling those abdominals clench against his, not in discomfort now, driving them both higher and closer, everything lost but this, nothing real but this, and that last little corner of his mind that could form coherent thoughts told Hannibal that this was right, that this was meant to be, that they belonged, just like this, wrapped around each other, sharing each other’s air, breathing one another in...
And he must have thrust a little harder at the thought, because the kid let loose a particularly loud cry and everything in him tightened and jerked, pulling Hannibal over the edge with him, pulling him high, and he came with a roar, biting down on an exposed shoulder, the kid’s neck thrown back in ecstasy, and the world whited out for a while.
When he came back to himself, he found himself sucking lightly at the bite, right along the collarbone, Face threading those shaking hands through damp hair. He pulled back, licking his mark one more time, and caught the kid up in another long, long kiss that left his breathless. It was only fair. Young men and their stamina...
“Good, kid?”
“Yeah, boss,” and his voice had something akin to awe in it. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He pulled out, smiling a little at the whimper that caused, and threw the evidence of his own satisfaction into the trash. Soon enough, he told himself, shivering at the thought of being able to fill his boy. They needed to clean up, and he whispered to the kid that they both needed a shower, but the kid was half asleep, and shook his head anyway.
“Wanna stay,” he murmured, and Hannibal didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. Although they had plenty of room, Face snuggled into his side and wouldn’t let him go. Hannibal smiled and kissed that short, sweat-spike hair and listened to that sweet breathing steady.
“Love you, Temp,” he said softly, but it was too late, the kid was fast asleep.
Time enough, Hannibal told himself, and managed to get them both, somehow, under the quilt. Face still tucked up against him. Exactly where he belonged. Exactly where he’d be from now on. And Hannibal didn’t follow him into slumber, not yet, listening, watching over his boy as he slept.
Hannibal hung up the phone, hitting the button on the handset, and dropped it on the floor next to bed. Face looked at him, and snuggled in a little more, ran a hand across the older man’s flat lap, flat hips and grabbed him around the opposite thigh, tugging him back around so they were chest to chest again, a little smile, genuine and happy, playing around the corners of his mouth.
The major smiled back, stroking that short hair, kissing that forehead as it nuzzled against his shoulder. It had been like this all weekend, Face going back to his little studio for a change of clothes and some other items he said he needed, the rest of the time spent just touching. In bed, watching movies, hell, the kid would even wrap himself around Hannibal’s back while he was cooking. Mostly in bed, though. The kid may not have had any experience with men, but he was no stranger to sex, and went about it with a kind of concentrated enthusiasm that Hannibal found both endearing and exhausting.
But as much as Face seemed to enjoy that, it was this, the soft kissing, the gentle little touches of Hannibal’s hands and the crush of their bodies against one another, that he seemed to prefer. Like he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. And the older man couldn’t help but wrap a comforting arm around that lithe body and hold him close.
Wonderful, this. When was the last time he’d had somebody who actually wanted this, the closeness, the contact? He didn’t want to think about the answer, and pressed a soft, easy kiss to his boy’s lips instead. God, a man could get lost here...
“It’s not a problem,” he murmured when they finally broke apart. “Don’t worry about work this week.”
This week, the one between Christmas weekend and New Year’s, wasn’t one of Hannibal’s favorites. Nothing going on. Absolutely nothing. Just an opportunity to get caught up on paperwork, for the men to break out the movies and video games and veg until they could go home.
It was his discretion which of his men had to report in, for how long and when. Just needed Russ’ blessing on it. Just got Russ’ blessing on it. Face was theirs now, his, and the kid was stressed from his year of shame, had to be.
He deserved some time off.
“Hannibal, you didn’t have to...”
“Don’t worry about it. Stay home and get caught up on your sleep or run or whatever you want,” and he tugged affectionately at the kid’s earlobe, drawing a short little laugh.
“You want me here when you get back in the evenings?”
Hannibal sighed. He’d have thought, after Christmas, that the kid would have understood this. That he wasn’t trying to take advantage, not trying to corral him or make him some kind of kept boy or anything like that.
He wanted to set Face free, cut him loose and watch him soar. All that damage. Hannibal wanted to kill whoever had done this to him, whoever had flooded the lower levels of his beautiful boy’s mind with all that self-doubt, all the fear.
And there was the other thing, the one he’d been worrying about. How had Face made it through West Point, Ranger School, hell, the seventh grade, like this? Alone? Hurting?
Hannibal refused to accept that Face didn’t believe in himself, didn’t understand his own self-worth, didn’t see the depth of his own strength, it just wasn’t possible, and he hoped like hell, not for the first time, that the kid wasn’t trying to play him.
But that was unfair. His own fears, not the kid’s. Or maybe it was the same fear, the fear of being left again, that it couldn’t be real, that this wasn't something life had in store. So new for both of them, Hannibal knew. There had been a lot of talking, more than he was used, more everything than he was used to, and somehow, soothing the kid’s doubts was soothing his own.
“One thing I need you to understand, Face, is that what we have here, and what we have at work have nothing to do with each other. No special treatment, soldier. No abuse of rank. Nothing like that. You understand?”
Face nodded. Hannibal kept going anyway.
“One of my soldiers has had a bullshit year. We can’t get him inprocessed until next week anyway, and there’s nothing for him to do at work. As long as he throws on a uniform and comes into the office at some point in the mornings, he can do whatever he’d like this week,” the major said, hoping Face got the point. “It’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Nothing?”
Mother of god, the major groaned to himself, and pushed up a little against the pile of pillows Face seemed to love so much. “Kid, look...”
But the younger man just grinned against his chest, and bumped lightly him on the shoulder, like he was letting him know it wasn’t a big deal. Hannibal hoped to hell that it wasn’t. “I get it, boss. Roles are roles. I’m not paying you with sex. I’m... not paying you with sex, right?”
“Fuck, no. But roles are... just parts we have to play,” he whispered back, hoping the words were right, reassuring, and ran a hand down one of the kid’s arms, raising goosebumps. “Different parts, kid, parts I take very seriously. Your CO, my lieutenant, and everything that comes with it. You okay with that?”
Face bit his lip, and grinned a littler wider, showing all of those lovely white teeth. He brushed the back of his fingers against Hannibal’s cock, causing him to twitch a little. “Do I still get this when I come home?”
And the way the kid just casually threw that last word on there, that home, teasing, not even thinking about it...Hannibal groaned again, this time for a completely different reason, and wrapped his thigh around the younger man, pulling them flush together, running his heel along the length of the kid’s hard thigh, down his calves, back up, pushing in a little at the knee. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, sweetheart,” he growled.
The younger man’s cheeks colored a little. Just a little. For all his teasing, Hannibal thought smugly, and rolled his hips, just once. “Want you, John.”
“You’ve got me, Temp.”
That blush got a little deeper and the grin a little wider. “Awesome.”
Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten here, up to the front office.
He’d gotten a call on his cell that afternoon, first day back, after he'd already headed out, and Hannibal had pulled back to check the caller ID. Base number, looked familiar...
“Major Smith, you there, sir?”
Oh, that voice. The general’s secretary. “Yes, ma’am. What’s going on?”
“You did take delivery on Faceman, right?”
“Lieutenant Peck?” he’d asked, and something turned over in his stomach. “What’s going on?”
He asked her again, now, in person. She was on her knees, undoing the tree skirt from around the base of the fake Douglas Fir set up in a corner of the office, already stripped of lights and ornaments, everything getting boxed back up already, and somehow, that scared him even more.
The secretary shuffled back a little and sat back, pointed at a closed door. “Hauled him up here about twenty minutes ago. You, uh, were you at work, major?”
“On my way in,” he lied. He’d been at home, broken the goddamn speed limit the whole way, run the stairs. “Twenty minutes?”
“He looked pissed.”
“Fuck,” Hannibal breathed and stared at the closed door. A one-star general’s closed door. An open-it-and-interrupt-and-ruin-your-career closed door.
“Major Smith? What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”
Hannibal froze for a second, just a second, General Wyland’s voice, that tone - some things you were trained to respond to, some things were calibrated to cut. This was one of those situations. But the kid was there, Face, standing at hard attention in front of the general’s huge desk, somehow looking as hunched and as miserable as the first moment Hannibal laid eyes on him. Pale. Terrified.
And there was no fucking way he was having that.
“I heard you were in a meeting with one of my junior officers without my presence,” he shot back, as cool and angry as he could get without being insubordinate. Such a fine line to walk. “This is highly...”
“Major Smith,” the general said, folding his hands on top of the desk and staring, Face’s breaths short and shallow in the corner of Hannibal’s vision. “Major Smith, you haven’t been very long at this base, so maybe you aren’t aware of the way I operate. For a field-grade officer to just barge in is, what’s the word I’m looking for, uh, suicidal.”
“Yes sir, I must not understand your rules, because at my last post, it was standard-ops for a soldier’s supervisor to be present during...what are you doing, if I may ask, sir?”
The general stared. “Lieutenant Peck didn’t report for work this morning.”
“Sure he did. He reported in to me, I let him take the day off...”
“Reported in to you? Peck doesn’t belong to you.”
And that really got his blood pumping, red starting to leak into his vision. Asshole had the secretary call Face up, ordered him back in here today, probably been yelling at him for being AWOL. He didn’t have the right, didn’t have the fucking right... but Hannibal forced it done. Freaking out wasn’t going to help the kid. Had to think through this one, had to be a way around this jackass...
“You signed him over to us. He’s ours.”
“Not yet. From everything I’ve seen...”
“Sir...” Face blurted out, probably thinking about that brilliant little game he’d played with the personnel folks, and Hannibal felt his heart jump. Shit,
The general’s gaze flicked over to Face, who’d gone kind of an ashen color, and then to Hannibal and back again, frowning. “You have something worthwhile to interject here, lieutenant?”
Peck shook his head, eyes caged firmly forward, staring at nothing. “No sir. Sorry.”
General Jackass, Wyland, whatever, leaned forward a little, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “No, evidently what you have to say is so much more important than what I do. Please, continue.”
“No, sir, I’m... I’m sorry, I-I didn’t, didn’t mean...”
“You never had a lick of common sense, lieutenant. And now you’re clearly lying to Major Smith about the circumstances of your situation because I can’t see him helping you if he thinks you’re a rapist.”
“No, no, sir, I haven’t, I mean, I didn't...shit, I’m sorry...”
The red was back, and this time, Hannibal couldn’t stop it. Not in the least. Not with the lieutenant, Face, his boy, that broken, the stuttering stream of apologies. It was all the major could do from skirting that gigantic piece of furniture and beating the shit out of the general. This, for a fucking year, an entire year...
“Sir, with all due respect,” Hannibal began in an even voice, Face not breathing now, the implied fuck you of that little statement hanging in the air. “With all due respect, sir, I can explain the status of his transfer to my unit, but I feel it would be inappropriate to describe in front of a junior officer.”
“And why’s that, Smith?”
“Because it makes you look foolish, sir, and that would be inappropriate of me,” he said, catching Face out of the corner of his eye. The kid looked like he wanted to vomit.
“Major Smith, you are on thin ice,” the general warned, a vein bulging on his forehead and a very real threat in his voice. “And I realize you’re aware that there is a lieutenant in the room.”
“I’m not trying to be insubordinate, sir, but it makes it difficult to run a unit when my superiors direct-line aorund me,” Hannibal said, as calmly as he could muster, hoping like hell the Ranger patch and the thick folder of documentation he had on the issue was going to be enough to save his ass on this. Not really caring if it did or not. Face deserved better than this asshole... “You have a problem, you bring it to me, please, sir.”
“Smith...”
“And he’s not a rapist. I took two days over the holidays reviewed the charges against Lieutenant Peck.” Hannibal walked forward and dropped the file on the desk, trying to let this jackass know that eight hours of work was all it would have taken to save this lieutenant from a year of hell, that he hadn’t given the courtesy of even a short once-over. “I’ve already consulted the JAG. I’ll be throwing them out come first of the year.”
The general wasn’t giving it up, but Hannibla could tell he was starting to crack. Sweat. Probably knew that procedures had been violated, corners cut, rights denied. The kid had never had an investigation. This asshole had thrown him the worst punishment he could dish out, made an example of him, ruined his life, fractured what little pride the kid had probably been nuturing, coming out of Ranger school, tearing him open... “Lieutenant Peck is under my control until the paperwork comes down. You don’t have the authority to make that decision.”
“Paperwork’s down, sir. I got it from your secretary last week. I’m surprised you don’t have it.”
“Impossible.”
“Must be a problem with your printer or something, sir. I apologize you had to find out like this, I assumed you knew,” Hannibal said, pulling the top sheet out of the folder and handing it over. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“No, no,” the general said, letting loose a long, shuddering breath, staring at the paper like it was alive. Like it could hurt him. That’s right, motherfucker, Hannibal thought smugly and looked over at Face. Tried to give him a tight little nod, let him know everything was okay. “Must be a problem with the printer.”
“Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, major, you’re dismissed. Peck, you stay.”
“Sir, is that really necessary?” Hannibal asked, fast and rapid, watching for a reaction from the kid, not seeing one, so grateful for the kid’s composure.
“Out.”
Hannibal waited. Wasn’t a long time, just a minute or two, but it was the longest fucking minute of his life, watching the door, listening for any yelling, profanity, the kid getting pissed and losing his temper and putting himself beyond Hannibal’s ability to help, to fix...
But when the door cracked, there was Face, shutting it quietly behind as he shuffled out, stunned, like he’d just been through a live-fire drill without earplugs for the first time. The older man had to bite back the urge to rush over and wrap him up, hold him. He couldn’t, not with the secretary there, curiosity focused laser-fine as she peeled snowflake decals from the windows. Hannibal loved her for calling him about this, bringing him down here to stop this, but right then...
The look on the kid's face was stuck somewhere between shock, sheer terror and unmitigated awe. Hannibal knew why. He felt it too, felt it clean through him. The adrenalin was coursing hard and blinding, everything shaky. Actually talking to a general like that. He’d actually talked to a general like that.
He had no idea how the kid had seen it, what he’d seen in it, no way of knowing at all, but it was nothing but amazement in the younger man's voice when he spoke, and that had to be a good sign.
Amazement.
Pure and brilliant amazement.
“Oh fuck, Hannibal...that was... I have never seen...”
Not the time for that. Not the place, either. He had to stay professional, had to compartmentalize... “What’d he say to you, kid?”
“That, uh, that I was” and Face took a couple of deep, ragged breaths, still somewhat stunned, clearly fighting to get sense back into things, pull his world back together. “That I lucky to have you as a CO...”
Hannibal cast an eye over to the secretary, who was making a good show of ignoring them, and dared to lay a hand on the kid’s shoulder. Couldn’t do any more, couldn’t say much at all, but maybe... “You okay to drive?" he asked, hoping it would break through, and he was rewarded with the tiniest glimmer of a smile.
"Don't think so, sir. That was..."
"I'll take you home, kid. Your car's okay here for the night."
Face kind of pushed into his hand, and Hannibal had to pull it away before that shoulder before he did something stupid.
Like kiss the kid senseless. Kiss all that pain and fear and frustration away, take it away forever...
Time enough, he told himself as he led Face away from the office and everything in it. Time enough.
Face was strangely quiet on the car ride back to Hannibal’s house, quiet and still, forehead against the glass. Hannibal looked over at him a few times, wondered if he should say anything, and decided to keep the silence. Least for right now.
But it followed them into the house, followed Face over to where he collapsed on the sofa, not moving, and Hannibal settled down beside him, rubbing a kneecap through the ACU pants, trying not to startle him. “Talk to me, Templeton,” he said softly. “What’s going on in there?”
The kid just shook his head. “I’ve got a headache,” he told the older man, and Hannibal fished a bottle of aspirin out for him.
Hannibal wasn’t sure whart else to do, so he left the kid alone to process whatever was whizzing through that head of his, letting him process the day. Eased in next to him with a glass of water and a couple of pills, let the younger man lay back against his chest. Just like that, the clock ticking out the minutes, the long pull of seconds into and out of one another. Just like that, until he felt a little squeeze on his hand.
“I, uh, I called a couple folks I know up at Personnel. Asked one of them for a favor, and the other...”
Hannibal rubbed a hand down one arm, kissed the crown of his head. “Yeah?”
“The other guy I knew from school. Swapped jokes for an hour.”
“And with the amorphous promise of a favor and an hour of bullshit you managed to talk a lieutenant and...”
“A sergeant.”
Hannibal blinked. “You got a lieutenant and a sergeant to go to the fucking colonel that runs that place and have them talk him into get your orders expedited in two days, over the holidays, when it normally takes months?”
The kid shifted a little again his chest. “Something like that, yeah.”
Hannibal considered that for a minute, considered all the possibilities, all the directions this could go. “Why are you telling me this?”
“General Wyland, he, uh, he told me I wasn’t fooling him. That I was conning you, manipulating you, that I just couldn’t help myself could I?” His tone was bitter. “That I was lucky to have you because you’d either beat the bullshit out of me or keep me from killing myself with it... but I don’t abuse it, Hannibal, I swear. People just, I don’t know, do things for me when I ask...”
Hannibal seriously considered going back to Fort Lewis right then and beating the shit out of Wyland, but that wasn’t going to help Face. Not right now. Maybe a strategic hit-and-run later on... “That’s an amazing thing you’ve got, kid. One we could really use in the field, for planning and missions, you have no idea.”
“I’ll occasionally hustle pool or get something here or there. I don’t use it very much.” He twisted around a little, side flush now to the major’s ribs and Hannibal automatically slid his arms right to accomodate. “I’ve always been kind of scared of it. Just kind of happens. The sisters used to tell me it wasn’t nice to take advantage of other people...”
Hannibal squeezed a little. It was coming. Whatever was bothering him, it was coming.
“Boss, am I...” And there it was, barely more than a whisper, eyes closed, shut against the trembling admission. “Am I ... am I manipulating you?”
Hannibal thought his heart might stop. “No,” he said instantly. “Impossible.”
“I feel like... I mean, you’re being so good to me, nobody’s ever... and that thing today... what was that today?”
“I think told off a general.”
“But I mean, like, did you do it because I conned you into doing it for me? Because I...because we...”
“Get that clean out of your head right now, lieutenant,” Hannibal growled, throwing the kid off and flipping them around, so that Face landed with a hard thump on the sofa cushions, pinned underneath him. Face in his ACUs, and wasn’t that a gorgeous sight? Hannibal thought, and tried to ignore it.
Blue eyes stared up at him defiantly, and god, that scared Hannibal. The kid was pulling away from him. “Why did you do it?”
“I did it for you, Temp. I did it completely for you.”
Face didn’t even bother struggling, those eyes still trained on Hannibal, the amazement building again. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met before, boss..”
“Same for you, kid.”
“No, I mean... nobody’s ever had any use for me, nobody’s ever...” And then he was faltering, failing. But it was okay, because Hannibal knew what he was trying to say.
“Nobody’s ever been there for you, have they, kid?”
Those eyes slid shut.
“And why would I be?”
Hannibal had no idea how he was supposed to say this to the kid. He’d been around longer, he’d seen more. Friends killed, bodies left behind in foreign lands. Friends married, happy with kids, bitter in divorce. Teamwork, friendship, fellowship, he knew intimately. But he'd never had anybody of his own, not really, nothing like that, not like this, but he still thought he understood how it worked. Because he understood what he wanted.
And it made sense now, validating all his hopes. Here was a man he could fold himself around, like Face could wrap around him, fitting into one another, smoothing out the rough corners, making one another better... wasn’t that how it worked? Wasn’t that how he felt?
“We pull each other up,” he said finally, feeling lame for saying it, the words not the same as what was in his head, but it got those eyes back open. "You pull me up. I want to do that for you, show you the beautiful man that I see in there, let you know..."
“How do you mean?”
“You believe in me, kid?”
Face didn’t even hesitate, that awe still echoing in his voice. “Yeah, boss.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I loved you?”
It didn't seem to register for a second. Hannibal forgot how to breath. And then everything, everything, every cell, every nerve, every fiber of the kid burst into some kind of light, a brilliance breaking over his face, his eyes going shiny with tears. “I think... I think I love you too, John.”
“Think?” Hannibal teased, insides twisting all up.
“I’ve never... it’s...” and he was smiling, pure and genuine and happy, the warmth of it spreading into Hannibal, just looking at it. And Hannibal knew, somehow knew, that this was likely the first time in the kid’s life he’d ever heard those words, like that. It was only that blissful expression that kept Hannibal's heart from shattering in the cold of that realization. “I think you need to show me...”
“...what that feels like?"
Face nodded, and he chuckled.
"My pleasure, my beautiful boy...”
Hannibal had never made love to anyone before. He hadn’t expected what came.
It went slow, underwater, everything had smoothed out, every motion flowing into another. Layers of uniform, boots, everything peeled off, sluffing away like dead skin, hitting the floor, until there was nothing left between them but one of Face’s hands against Hannibal’s chest, everything touching. Mouth and pecs and abs and cock and legs, all of it, easy against the other man.
Simple and fluid. Gentle and forceful. He supposed they were still on the couch, although it didn’t really matter, because there was Face beneath him, tangling them both together, holding Hannibal close, everything the sweet smell of the younger man’s need, the last little invitation.
It was kissing there at first, kissing that seemed to go on forever, all supple warmth and bright little flecks of pain, nibbles and bites and Hannibal groaned into it, listening to the pleasure of the man beneath him, and deepened it, broadened.
He had his hand between Face’s legs, curling around his cock, sliding back behind his balls. There was no way to stop, no will to do so, to pause and go get what he needed, and the major slipped two fingers into the kid’s mouth, hoping he’d understand. Those blue eyes below him flared in approval and sucked hard, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem. Hannibal almost didn’t notice, the younger man’s hand flailing for lost pants, until a plain packet was pressed into his palm, and Face grinned around his fingers and sucked in deep.
Smiling back, whispering some endearment he didn’t quite catch, Hannibal held them palm to palm, rubbing the little spaces between knuckles with hot fingertips and pulled loose, taking the lube with him.
“Better than spit,” he murmured. “Now what about...”
Those legs fell even further apart, one running up the back of the sofa, the other falling to the floor, one sock still on, blue eyes intense. “No need,” came the little answer.
Better than anything.
He slicked himself and Face tore another kiss loose from him as one of Hannibal’s hands tightened on a hipbone, as his fingers slipped inside. Looser, still deliciously tight, and he didn’t bother prepping at all. He couldn’t. He needed to possess, to be lost in the man beneath him, right then. Make it all real before he woke, before it ended and Face vanished...
There, that. That was a noise he’d never heard before, pushing in as fast and as hard as he dared, something gutteral and visceral and musical. Something real, and Face was panting already around him, concentration broken at last, nothing but awe in that beautiful visage. “Feels different,” he said, breathing out.
“Feels like everything,” Hannibal said, not caring if that made any sense or not, and rolled his hips. “Feels like you...”
“God, yes...”
The rhythm was there, Hannibal falling into it rather than figuring it out, Face coming with him, meeting him on every upstroke, his own erection caught between them and he was moaning, high and pleading, on every down. It drew on and on, carrying them with it, that rhythm. Hands roamed, elbows planted, lungs drew air in and lips on his own took the air away, all of it somehow making sense against the gentle push between them. Everything grew so bright and so out of focus as the final discreet barrier gave way, flooding out, flooded out, and Face’s own warmth was spreading between them, the kid sighing instead of screaming on the edge of his hearing, sense for anything but Templeton utterly lost...
Hannibal came back first, some time later, fading orgasm still tinged bright by the wonder that was this man in his arm. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He was incapable of imagining such a thing. And he’d never have to. No need to imagine anything anymore.
Face yawned and rotated a little, bringing their faces close, rubbing noses.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” was the blissed-out little reply.
“Proof enough for you, love?”
Something flickered across the kid’s face, and then it was gone, banished, at least for now, and a smile surfaced. He smacked his lips and dug back into the soft cushions. Decision made. Peace found, at least for now, the space between them utterly gone, at least for now, and Hannibal felt a sting in his face, through his nose, one he hadn’t felt in years...
“I wanna wake up here every morning.”
"Anything you want, sweetheart." And cuddled him a little closer.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
This is for sonora coneja, who filled my prompt here: http://community.livejournal.com/ateam_prompts/2941.html?thread=1397885#t1397885, with this utter beauty, here: http://community.livejournal.com/ateam_prompts/2941.html?thread=1404541#t1404541.
And, being my obsessive self, I couldn't stop thinking about the gorgeous little world she wrote for me and....I begged for more, to which she graciously agreed.
So here's my prompt.
The night after the party. Committing themselves to each other. Then when he stops and thinks about it, maybe General Jackass gets wind of the unconventional nature of Face's transfer? Maybe he gets his panties in a twist? I really want to see Hannibal in verbal whup-ass mode, protecting his boy.
And the sex, o'course.
Face isn’t quite sure what it is to commit to somebody, but Hannibal’s going to show him what it all means.
As it says in the prompt, the sequel to All Things Considered
Face was strangely quiet on the ride back.
He drove, having had less to drink, but the silence, the way Hannibal could almost feel him folding back inside himself, was enough to shock the older man back into full sobriety. Something was wrong with the lieutenant, his lieutenant, and that wasn’t going to do at all.
Face missed the winding little street that led back to Hannibal’s house, and as the major had him circle back around and hit the correct stop sign, he looked over. Saw tears in the kid’s eyes. “What is, Face?” he asked softly, resisting the urge again to just lean in and kiss it away. Better to let the boy tell him, rather than tease it out of him.
“Sorry,” the lieutenant said, and ran the sleeve of his jacket over his cheek. He sniffed once, and tried to smile. “Guess I’m a little worn out.”
Worn out. Interesting choice of words, Hannibal thought, and put his hand over where one of the kid’s hands lay on the shifter. “Let’s get home.”
And that time, the smile was real.
It was late, really late, like 0200, by the time Hannibal fumbled his keys out and unlocked his front door. Face was still quiet, but he hadn’t protested at all, laughed actually, when Hannibal had been there, holding his door open for him. “Not a goddamn girl,” he’d chuckled, but let Hannibal help him out anyway.
Now the kid was sitting on the kitchen counter, watching him with those brilliant blue eyes, set off even more by the pale button-up he was wearing, legs spread just a little in what Hannibal was pretty sure was accidental invitation, feet swinging. Torn between desire and fear. There was something so innocent about him... “What are you thinking about, Face?” he asked, not really sure what else to say.
“I don’t know, Hannibal,” the kid said and stretched a little. Yawned.
“You okay with all this? The party wasn’t overwhelming or anything, was it?”
And those tears were back, completely unacknowledged, the kid’s expression totally unchanged. “I, shit, this is going to sound really...”
“Just say it,” Hannibal said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, moving to lean on his hip next to the younger man, the edge of the counter digging into his skin a little, and he settled a hand on the small of Face’s back. “It’s okay.”
The kid shot him a grateful look and nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a, uh, been over to anybody’s house for a holiday.”
The way he said it... Hannibal felt his chest clench up, just like when he’d first laid eyes on the lieutenant, and he started rubbing. Just a little, letting the kid know it was okay, that talking was okay. “How long?”
Face wouldn’t look at him, and those tears were coming down now, but nothing else had changed. Almost cold about it. “My girlfriend, college, brought me home with her a few times, but she was Lutheran, her dad didn’t like me...”
Hannibal slid around front of the kid, slotting in between his spread legs, laying soft hands on his knees. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
That got the kid’s head up, and all that wet, wet blue... “For what?”
“For being here with me,” he murmured, stroking up and down now, gentling hm down. Trying to take it slow, trying not to light off the tension he felt building in that strong body. Ignoring his own need, that tension of an entirely different sort coursing through him at being this close to this young man, his...no, not that, not yet, and he pushed it away. Focus, John, what's he need...
But it was barely a question. Hannibal already knew how this worked. How it had worked for him for so long, too long. How tired of it all he was. “It’s easier, isn’t it? In a way, it’s a lot easier. Never having to deal with anyone, never having to worry about any of it, no disappointments, nobody failing you...”
And that got it, the kid’s head buried into the shoulder of his overcoat, hands up around and digging, vice-like, into the heavy fabric there. Trying to hold onto something real, Hannibal thought, and circled the kid’s waist. Face toed his shoes off, kicking them away, and a socked foot snuck up the outside of Hannibal’s leg. The kid wasn’t crying, the need for touch overwhelming any other consideration, and the major held him, just like that, until he felt the weight in his arms shift. Face touched down to the cold tile, sliding off, closer now and so warm, and turned his head so his cheek was resting against Hannibal’s chest. Palms open now.
Breathing hard.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, kid,” Hannibal said, moving his thumbs slowly. “I understand.”
“I know,” Face replied, and nudged his head up, cat-like, rubbing right over Hannibal’s heart to rest his chin on the older man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry...”
“It doesn’t have to be... doesn’t have to be like that any more, Temp.”
“What do you mean? Like...”
“I’d like to keep you, kid. If you’ll have me.”
The kid tried to look down, and Hannibal caught him, cupping a cheek in his hand and forcing the younger man to face him, pulling them apart a little bit to do so. Whatever the answer was going to be, and he felt something flutter in fear deep down, he needed to see it. Needed to see the truth of it in those beautiful eyes. “Kid, I’m not going to force you. But you have to tell me.”
Face wriggled against him, craning up to put a soft kiss on Hannibal’s throat. “What’s that mean?”
And the older man’s heart almost broke. “Means anything you want, sweetheart. Everything you want. Anything.”
“I’ve never...” Face murmured, and swallowed, mouth working soundlessly. He pursed his lips. Nodded, and ran his arm back under Hannibal’s, pulling against his chest again. The major almost groaned. All that warmth, all that passion there, and then... “I’d, uh, I’d like that.”
Relief washed through Hannibal’s lean framed, and he hugged the kid close. “Good, good,” he said, unable to hold it back. “That’s really good, Temp.”
“Yeah...” came the breathy little reply against his neck, somehow sad again and he couldn’t have that, couldn’t have this beautiful boy falling back into the pit a lifetime of neglect had cast him into.
“So,” he teased, trying to pull the kid out of it, “what do you want, Temp?”
“... you, John.”
That name, his real name, on the kid’s lips melted him completely, and they were kissing, wonderful and sloppy and full, shrugging out of jackets and letting them fall on the kitchen floor, hands finding hems and buttons and zippers and finally bare skin, clothing scattering across the living room and tight hallway. His back hit the wall at least twice, Face unfamiliar with the space as they both tugged each other around, but his boy didn’t touch anything but the bed, wide and soft. He lowered him down, nice and easy, careful not to crush the younger man under him.
“Roll over, Temp. Lots of room,” he said softly, and Face, in nothing but his briefs, smiled up at him and started scooting back.
As the lieutenant settled himself back up against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, watching him, Hannibal ditched his pants and socks and boxers, pulled himself up and laid a hand on the kid’s thigh, reaching for a little package on the nightstand. “I got you something too, Temp,” he said, handing the kid the box. “Your present was so thoughtful...”
“Aww, you already got me something, John,” Face said, a blush creeping over his cheeks, and eagerly ripped into it. Then he started laughing. “Lube? Nice.”
“Nothing but the best for you, sweetheart.”
Face’s eyes got wide and his breath hitched as Hannibal brushed a little closer, over underwear and the kid’s bulging arousal. But there he was, trying not to show anything again as he shook the box with a grin, the tube inside rattling against the sides. “Can we try it out?”
“Absolutely,” Hannibal replied, moving in to capture his mouth. “Anything you want, remember?”
A pleased little sigh rushed out to greet him, and Hannibal kissed it greedily off the kid’s lips, just this side of chapped from the cold outside. Keeping the two of them side by side balancing his weight, he dug one hand into that short caramel hair and moved his other off those now-damp briefs, slipping between finely muscled thighs and forcing them apart. He left it there, stroking the tender skin he found there, so soft, and Face gasped, pulling back, toes twisting up.
Hannibal growled, and only barely-just caught the kid from banging his head. “This’ll be so much easier to hold onto when it grows out.” And beautiful was that going to be? Wavy and thick, he was sure of it, heavy with sweat, hanging across that perfect forehead, maybe falling in his eyes, just a little...
“I get... to grow my hair... out?” Face panted, fighting for air, licking his lips. God, he looked edible like this, Hannibal thought, and fought down the urge to just pounce him. Time enough for that later, and he groaned at all the things that could be, would be, because Face wanted him.
“Of course,” Hannibal said, running a finger under the band of the kid’s briefs, tugging a little, giving the kid a hint. He could have pulled those off himself, but he wanted Face to do it, wanted to make sure the kid had meant what he had said, that he wasn’t trying to lie to himself, convince himself of something he didn’t want. “Can’t jump into some banana republic looking like a goddamn infantry grunt.”
Face caught Hannibal’s wrist, smiling at him, and slid his own hand under his underwear, pulling them off slowly and kicking them away. The major closed his palm around the younger man’s cock, letting his thumb rub lightly over the slit. “You’re a Ranger again, lieutenant,” he growled softly, nuzzling behind an ear, nipping without any force. “Need you to believe me about that, trust in that...”
The kid’s hands shot up, locking around Hannibal’s neck, and the major kissed the tip of his nose. “Need you to believe in yourself. Like tonight, I was so proud...”
“I was scared,” he admitted softly.
“But held your head high and didn't let it show. You remembered what you are. Who you’ve earned the right to be...”
The kid laughed, their noses touching. “I remembered what you told me.”
And fuck, if that wasn’t the most erotic thing Hannibal had ever heard anybody say to him in all his life. His hand, slowly stroking the kid’s cock, clenched suddenly, and that lithe body bucked nearly off the bed, the kid moaning in pleasure. “I’ll never lie to you, my brave boy,” he growled, every cell in his body screaming his need for this young man. “Take anything you need from me.”
“... need you, boss,” and it was barely a whisper, but Hannibal heard it more clearly than anything, and he knew it was time.
Lightning fast, he let go of the kid’s length and tugged Face down, hitting flat on the bed, and the kid grinned up at him, twisted a little bit on the sheets purposefully. Hannibal felt his self-control start to slip. Kneeling between those legs now, Hannibal watched them spread for him automatically, one knee pulling unconsciously up, a hand waggling the lube at him. Offering himself. Beautiful.
Hannibal pushed it a little further up, encouraging the initiative and loving the kid for it, almost touching to the kid’s chest. Face wrapped a shaking hand around it, fingers brushing as he laid it down over Hannibal’s, and the major had to lean over and kiss him again. Face handed the lube over and Hannibal squirted an appreciative amount into his hand and onto his fingers, shaking himself with anticipation as he ran a light finger just inside that ring of muscle, working very slowly, being thorough, keeping the kid engaged with the kiss, loathe to break contact.
God, it felt so good, fingers thrusting, tongue exploring, and he wanted everything tonight, Hannibal decided, wanted to sink all the way into the kid’s hot, welcoming body, feel it all. He groaned into the kiss and stretched him wide. No pain for his boy
When he thought the kid was loose enough, he groped blindly for the lube and his Christmas condoms. His fingers closed down on his prize and he sat back on his heels, tearing the wrapper open.
He wanted to take Face bareback, but the young man was still so new at this, he didn’t want to scare him or something. He couldn’t ask for that, not yet. They’d get there. No hurry.
A tentative hand brushed along his own cock, and Hannibal groaned. Emboldened by the noise he’d just received, Face took Hannibal fully in hand, stroking slow and gentle over his painfully engorged length, the exact same rhythm Hannibal had just been using on him. A shudder ran though him at the light ministrations, and he just knew the kid was smirking at him. “Temp, I’m... I'm not going to last if you keep that up,” he said as Face added a little twist, and the hand was instantly gone.
“Sorry,” the kid said sheepishly. “Not used to doing it on one that isn’t mine.”
“It is now,” Hannibal said, rolling the condom on, wanting to punch himself for how ridiculous that just sounded, making a note to fix the kid's habit of apologizing all the time. Wouldn't do on a Ranger. “Everything I’ve got is yours...”
And that hand was back, a little different, and Hannibal realized that Face was slicking him up, pushed up on an elbow, that look of concentration back, brows knitted together. Another simple little gesture that threatening to undo him completely. What was it about this man? “That feels amazing, Temp.”
“Ditto, boss.”
“Lay back, sweetheart.”
Hannibal snatched up a pillow and Face lifted his hip automatically, still watching him, something new in his expression, almost... worshipful, maybe, and Hannibal urged the kid’s leg, the one that was laying on the quilt, up around his hip. He stroked a still-slick finger across the kid’s entrance one more time, feeling the muscles flutter against the light touch, and shuffled himself just so. “Beautiful, Temp,” he murmured, and sunk in.
Wasn’t as slow as the night before, the kid taking him a little easier now, sighing around the sensation where before there was been short gasps. So lovely. Hannibal, still kneeling, rubbed his stomach, urging tensed muscles to relax, murmuring words of encouragement. Telling Face how amazing he felt, how hot and tight and how perfect, and he was. But the major offered him no quarter at all, didn’t stop, didn’t even think about it, until he felt his hips hit and he was completely encased in that squeeze of heat.
“Oh, fuck!”
“You okay?” he asked with gritted teeth, trying to resist the urge to start thrusting wildly, and pulled his fingers down the kid’s side, giving him time to adjust. “Need me to...”
“...fuck, boss, please...please,” he breathed, and a hand slid around the back of Hannibal’s ass, down his own straining thigh. “Please, John...”
“You never have to beg,” he said softly, and pulled out just a little, pushed back in. Both men groaned and Face’s hand got a little tighter. “Just tell me.”
“Move, fucking hell... please....”
Hannibal started out as gentle as he could, setting a slow pace that barely took him out and barely pushed back in. But as Face’s initial discomfort faded, as his stomach relaxed and the little grunts turned into pleasure-filled gasps, Hannibal pulled out further, sunk in deeper, and...
“Oh, god, r-right there!”
Jackpot. The kid nearly bucked clean off the bed, and Hannibal fell forward over him, catching himself on his elbows, kissing him quickly. He did it again, catching that angle. “Here?”
“Yeah, right there, oh, fuck...” he said, and pressed up against him like this, Hannibal could feel the shiver that ran through the kid.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against sweating skin, and picked up the pace.
Face was crying out now, delicious little screams tearing loose with every downstroke, his body finding its frequency with Hannibal’s, taking him deeper each time, and both his legs were wrapped around the major’s waist, feet kicking and sliding in turn, cock trapped and leaking against Hannibal’s belly.
And Hannibal could feel everything like this, everything, and couldn’t help going harder, going faster, feeling those abdominals clench against his, not in discomfort now, driving them both higher and closer, everything lost but this, nothing real but this, and that last little corner of his mind that could form coherent thoughts told Hannibal that this was right, that this was meant to be, that they belonged, just like this, wrapped around each other, sharing each other’s air, breathing one another in...
And he must have thrust a little harder at the thought, because the kid let loose a particularly loud cry and everything in him tightened and jerked, pulling Hannibal over the edge with him, pulling him high, and he came with a roar, biting down on an exposed shoulder, the kid’s neck thrown back in ecstasy, and the world whited out for a while.
When he came back to himself, he found himself sucking lightly at the bite, right along the collarbone, Face threading those shaking hands through damp hair. He pulled back, licking his mark one more time, and caught the kid up in another long, long kiss that left his breathless. It was only fair. Young men and their stamina...
“Good, kid?”
“Yeah, boss,” and his voice had something akin to awe in it. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He pulled out, smiling a little at the whimper that caused, and threw the evidence of his own satisfaction into the trash. Soon enough, he told himself, shivering at the thought of being able to fill his boy. They needed to clean up, and he whispered to the kid that they both needed a shower, but the kid was half asleep, and shook his head anyway.
“Wanna stay,” he murmured, and Hannibal didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. Although they had plenty of room, Face snuggled into his side and wouldn’t let him go. Hannibal smiled and kissed that short, sweat-spike hair and listened to that sweet breathing steady.
“Love you, Temp,” he said softly, but it was too late, the kid was fast asleep.
Time enough, Hannibal told himself, and managed to get them both, somehow, under the quilt. Face still tucked up against him. Exactly where he belonged. Exactly where he’d be from now on. And Hannibal didn’t follow him into slumber, not yet, listening, watching over his boy as he slept.
Hannibal hung up the phone, hitting the button on the handset, and dropped it on the floor next to bed. Face looked at him, and snuggled in a little more, ran a hand across the older man’s flat lap, flat hips and grabbed him around the opposite thigh, tugging him back around so they were chest to chest again, a little smile, genuine and happy, playing around the corners of his mouth.
The major smiled back, stroking that short hair, kissing that forehead as it nuzzled against his shoulder. It had been like this all weekend, Face going back to his little studio for a change of clothes and some other items he said he needed, the rest of the time spent just touching. In bed, watching movies, hell, the kid would even wrap himself around Hannibal’s back while he was cooking. Mostly in bed, though. The kid may not have had any experience with men, but he was no stranger to sex, and went about it with a kind of concentrated enthusiasm that Hannibal found both endearing and exhausting.
But as much as Face seemed to enjoy that, it was this, the soft kissing, the gentle little touches of Hannibal’s hands and the crush of their bodies against one another, that he seemed to prefer. Like he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. And the older man couldn’t help but wrap a comforting arm around that lithe body and hold him close.
Wonderful, this. When was the last time he’d had somebody who actually wanted this, the closeness, the contact? He didn’t want to think about the answer, and pressed a soft, easy kiss to his boy’s lips instead. God, a man could get lost here...
“It’s not a problem,” he murmured when they finally broke apart. “Don’t worry about work this week.”
This week, the one between Christmas weekend and New Year’s, wasn’t one of Hannibal’s favorites. Nothing going on. Absolutely nothing. Just an opportunity to get caught up on paperwork, for the men to break out the movies and video games and veg until they could go home.
It was his discretion which of his men had to report in, for how long and when. Just needed Russ’ blessing on it. Just got Russ’ blessing on it. Face was theirs now, his, and the kid was stressed from his year of shame, had to be.
He deserved some time off.
“Hannibal, you didn’t have to...”
“Don’t worry about it. Stay home and get caught up on your sleep or run or whatever you want,” and he tugged affectionately at the kid’s earlobe, drawing a short little laugh.
“You want me here when you get back in the evenings?”
Hannibal sighed. He’d have thought, after Christmas, that the kid would have understood this. That he wasn’t trying to take advantage, not trying to corral him or make him some kind of kept boy or anything like that.
He wanted to set Face free, cut him loose and watch him soar. All that damage. Hannibal wanted to kill whoever had done this to him, whoever had flooded the lower levels of his beautiful boy’s mind with all that self-doubt, all the fear.
And there was the other thing, the one he’d been worrying about. How had Face made it through West Point, Ranger School, hell, the seventh grade, like this? Alone? Hurting?
Hannibal refused to accept that Face didn’t believe in himself, didn’t understand his own self-worth, didn’t see the depth of his own strength, it just wasn’t possible, and he hoped like hell, not for the first time, that the kid wasn’t trying to play him.
But that was unfair. His own fears, not the kid’s. Or maybe it was the same fear, the fear of being left again, that it couldn’t be real, that this wasn't something life had in store. So new for both of them, Hannibal knew. There had been a lot of talking, more than he was used, more everything than he was used to, and somehow, soothing the kid’s doubts was soothing his own.
“One thing I need you to understand, Face, is that what we have here, and what we have at work have nothing to do with each other. No special treatment, soldier. No abuse of rank. Nothing like that. You understand?”
Face nodded. Hannibal kept going anyway.
“One of my soldiers has had a bullshit year. We can’t get him inprocessed until next week anyway, and there’s nothing for him to do at work. As long as he throws on a uniform and comes into the office at some point in the mornings, he can do whatever he’d like this week,” the major said, hoping Face got the point. “It’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Nothing?”
Mother of god, the major groaned to himself, and pushed up a little against the pile of pillows Face seemed to love so much. “Kid, look...”
But the younger man just grinned against his chest, and bumped lightly him on the shoulder, like he was letting him know it wasn’t a big deal. Hannibal hoped to hell that it wasn’t. “I get it, boss. Roles are roles. I’m not paying you with sex. I’m... not paying you with sex, right?”
“Fuck, no. But roles are... just parts we have to play,” he whispered back, hoping the words were right, reassuring, and ran a hand down one of the kid’s arms, raising goosebumps. “Different parts, kid, parts I take very seriously. Your CO, my lieutenant, and everything that comes with it. You okay with that?”
Face bit his lip, and grinned a littler wider, showing all of those lovely white teeth. He brushed the back of his fingers against Hannibal’s cock, causing him to twitch a little. “Do I still get this when I come home?”
And the way the kid just casually threw that last word on there, that home, teasing, not even thinking about it...Hannibal groaned again, this time for a completely different reason, and wrapped his thigh around the younger man, pulling them flush together, running his heel along the length of the kid’s hard thigh, down his calves, back up, pushing in a little at the knee. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, sweetheart,” he growled.
The younger man’s cheeks colored a little. Just a little. For all his teasing, Hannibal thought smugly, and rolled his hips, just once. “Want you, John.”
“You’ve got me, Temp.”
That blush got a little deeper and the grin a little wider. “Awesome.”
Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten here, up to the front office.
He’d gotten a call on his cell that afternoon, first day back, after he'd already headed out, and Hannibal had pulled back to check the caller ID. Base number, looked familiar...
“Major Smith, you there, sir?”
Oh, that voice. The general’s secretary. “Yes, ma’am. What’s going on?”
“You did take delivery on Faceman, right?”
“Lieutenant Peck?” he’d asked, and something turned over in his stomach. “What’s going on?”
He asked her again, now, in person. She was on her knees, undoing the tree skirt from around the base of the fake Douglas Fir set up in a corner of the office, already stripped of lights and ornaments, everything getting boxed back up already, and somehow, that scared him even more.
The secretary shuffled back a little and sat back, pointed at a closed door. “Hauled him up here about twenty minutes ago. You, uh, were you at work, major?”
“On my way in,” he lied. He’d been at home, broken the goddamn speed limit the whole way, run the stairs. “Twenty minutes?”
“He looked pissed.”
“Fuck,” Hannibal breathed and stared at the closed door. A one-star general’s closed door. An open-it-and-interrupt-and-ruin-your-career closed door.
“Major Smith? What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”
Hannibal froze for a second, just a second, General Wyland’s voice, that tone - some things you were trained to respond to, some things were calibrated to cut. This was one of those situations. But the kid was there, Face, standing at hard attention in front of the general’s huge desk, somehow looking as hunched and as miserable as the first moment Hannibal laid eyes on him. Pale. Terrified.
And there was no fucking way he was having that.
“I heard you were in a meeting with one of my junior officers without my presence,” he shot back, as cool and angry as he could get without being insubordinate. Such a fine line to walk. “This is highly...”
“Major Smith,” the general said, folding his hands on top of the desk and staring, Face’s breaths short and shallow in the corner of Hannibal’s vision. “Major Smith, you haven’t been very long at this base, so maybe you aren’t aware of the way I operate. For a field-grade officer to just barge in is, what’s the word I’m looking for, uh, suicidal.”
“Yes sir, I must not understand your rules, because at my last post, it was standard-ops for a soldier’s supervisor to be present during...what are you doing, if I may ask, sir?”
The general stared. “Lieutenant Peck didn’t report for work this morning.”
“Sure he did. He reported in to me, I let him take the day off...”
“Reported in to you? Peck doesn’t belong to you.”
And that really got his blood pumping, red starting to leak into his vision. Asshole had the secretary call Face up, ordered him back in here today, probably been yelling at him for being AWOL. He didn’t have the right, didn’t have the fucking right... but Hannibal forced it done. Freaking out wasn’t going to help the kid. Had to think through this one, had to be a way around this jackass...
“You signed him over to us. He’s ours.”
“Not yet. From everything I’ve seen...”
“Sir...” Face blurted out, probably thinking about that brilliant little game he’d played with the personnel folks, and Hannibal felt his heart jump. Shit,
The general’s gaze flicked over to Face, who’d gone kind of an ashen color, and then to Hannibal and back again, frowning. “You have something worthwhile to interject here, lieutenant?”
Peck shook his head, eyes caged firmly forward, staring at nothing. “No sir. Sorry.”
General Jackass, Wyland, whatever, leaned forward a little, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “No, evidently what you have to say is so much more important than what I do. Please, continue.”
“No, sir, I’m... I’m sorry, I-I didn’t, didn’t mean...”
“You never had a lick of common sense, lieutenant. And now you’re clearly lying to Major Smith about the circumstances of your situation because I can’t see him helping you if he thinks you’re a rapist.”
“No, no, sir, I haven’t, I mean, I didn't...shit, I’m sorry...”
The red was back, and this time, Hannibal couldn’t stop it. Not in the least. Not with the lieutenant, Face, his boy, that broken, the stuttering stream of apologies. It was all the major could do from skirting that gigantic piece of furniture and beating the shit out of the general. This, for a fucking year, an entire year...
“Sir, with all due respect,” Hannibal began in an even voice, Face not breathing now, the implied fuck you of that little statement hanging in the air. “With all due respect, sir, I can explain the status of his transfer to my unit, but I feel it would be inappropriate to describe in front of a junior officer.”
“And why’s that, Smith?”
“Because it makes you look foolish, sir, and that would be inappropriate of me,” he said, catching Face out of the corner of his eye. The kid looked like he wanted to vomit.
“Major Smith, you are on thin ice,” the general warned, a vein bulging on his forehead and a very real threat in his voice. “And I realize you’re aware that there is a lieutenant in the room.”
“I’m not trying to be insubordinate, sir, but it makes it difficult to run a unit when my superiors direct-line aorund me,” Hannibal said, as calmly as he could muster, hoping like hell the Ranger patch and the thick folder of documentation he had on the issue was going to be enough to save his ass on this. Not really caring if it did or not. Face deserved better than this asshole... “You have a problem, you bring it to me, please, sir.”
“Smith...”
“And he’s not a rapist. I took two days over the holidays reviewed the charges against Lieutenant Peck.” Hannibal walked forward and dropped the file on the desk, trying to let this jackass know that eight hours of work was all it would have taken to save this lieutenant from a year of hell, that he hadn’t given the courtesy of even a short once-over. “I’ve already consulted the JAG. I’ll be throwing them out come first of the year.”
The general wasn’t giving it up, but Hannibla could tell he was starting to crack. Sweat. Probably knew that procedures had been violated, corners cut, rights denied. The kid had never had an investigation. This asshole had thrown him the worst punishment he could dish out, made an example of him, ruined his life, fractured what little pride the kid had probably been nuturing, coming out of Ranger school, tearing him open... “Lieutenant Peck is under my control until the paperwork comes down. You don’t have the authority to make that decision.”
“Paperwork’s down, sir. I got it from your secretary last week. I’m surprised you don’t have it.”
“Impossible.”
“Must be a problem with your printer or something, sir. I apologize you had to find out like this, I assumed you knew,” Hannibal said, pulling the top sheet out of the folder and handing it over. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“No, no,” the general said, letting loose a long, shuddering breath, staring at the paper like it was alive. Like it could hurt him. That’s right, motherfucker, Hannibal thought smugly and looked over at Face. Tried to give him a tight little nod, let him know everything was okay. “Must be a problem with the printer.”
“Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, major, you’re dismissed. Peck, you stay.”
“Sir, is that really necessary?” Hannibal asked, fast and rapid, watching for a reaction from the kid, not seeing one, so grateful for the kid’s composure.
“Out.”
Hannibal waited. Wasn’t a long time, just a minute or two, but it was the longest fucking minute of his life, watching the door, listening for any yelling, profanity, the kid getting pissed and losing his temper and putting himself beyond Hannibal’s ability to help, to fix...
But when the door cracked, there was Face, shutting it quietly behind as he shuffled out, stunned, like he’d just been through a live-fire drill without earplugs for the first time. The older man had to bite back the urge to rush over and wrap him up, hold him. He couldn’t, not with the secretary there, curiosity focused laser-fine as she peeled snowflake decals from the windows. Hannibal loved her for calling him about this, bringing him down here to stop this, but right then...
The look on the kid's face was stuck somewhere between shock, sheer terror and unmitigated awe. Hannibal knew why. He felt it too, felt it clean through him. The adrenalin was coursing hard and blinding, everything shaky. Actually talking to a general like that. He’d actually talked to a general like that.
He had no idea how the kid had seen it, what he’d seen in it, no way of knowing at all, but it was nothing but amazement in the younger man's voice when he spoke, and that had to be a good sign.
Amazement.
Pure and brilliant amazement.
“Oh fuck, Hannibal...that was... I have never seen...”
Not the time for that. Not the place, either. He had to stay professional, had to compartmentalize... “What’d he say to you, kid?”
“That, uh, that I was” and Face took a couple of deep, ragged breaths, still somewhat stunned, clearly fighting to get sense back into things, pull his world back together. “That I lucky to have you as a CO...”
Hannibal cast an eye over to the secretary, who was making a good show of ignoring them, and dared to lay a hand on the kid’s shoulder. Couldn’t do any more, couldn’t say much at all, but maybe... “You okay to drive?" he asked, hoping it would break through, and he was rewarded with the tiniest glimmer of a smile.
"Don't think so, sir. That was..."
"I'll take you home, kid. Your car's okay here for the night."
Face kind of pushed into his hand, and Hannibal had to pull it away before that shoulder before he did something stupid.
Like kiss the kid senseless. Kiss all that pain and fear and frustration away, take it away forever...
Time enough, he told himself as he led Face away from the office and everything in it. Time enough.
Face was strangely quiet on the car ride back to Hannibal’s house, quiet and still, forehead against the glass. Hannibal looked over at him a few times, wondered if he should say anything, and decided to keep the silence. Least for right now.
But it followed them into the house, followed Face over to where he collapsed on the sofa, not moving, and Hannibal settled down beside him, rubbing a kneecap through the ACU pants, trying not to startle him. “Talk to me, Templeton,” he said softly. “What’s going on in there?”
The kid just shook his head. “I’ve got a headache,” he told the older man, and Hannibal fished a bottle of aspirin out for him.
Hannibal wasn’t sure whart else to do, so he left the kid alone to process whatever was whizzing through that head of his, letting him process the day. Eased in next to him with a glass of water and a couple of pills, let the younger man lay back against his chest. Just like that, the clock ticking out the minutes, the long pull of seconds into and out of one another. Just like that, until he felt a little squeeze on his hand.
“I, uh, I called a couple folks I know up at Personnel. Asked one of them for a favor, and the other...”
Hannibal rubbed a hand down one arm, kissed the crown of his head. “Yeah?”
“The other guy I knew from school. Swapped jokes for an hour.”
“And with the amorphous promise of a favor and an hour of bullshit you managed to talk a lieutenant and...”
“A sergeant.”
Hannibal blinked. “You got a lieutenant and a sergeant to go to the fucking colonel that runs that place and have them talk him into get your orders expedited in two days, over the holidays, when it normally takes months?”
The kid shifted a little again his chest. “Something like that, yeah.”
Hannibal considered that for a minute, considered all the possibilities, all the directions this could go. “Why are you telling me this?”
“General Wyland, he, uh, he told me I wasn’t fooling him. That I was conning you, manipulating you, that I just couldn’t help myself could I?” His tone was bitter. “That I was lucky to have you because you’d either beat the bullshit out of me or keep me from killing myself with it... but I don’t abuse it, Hannibal, I swear. People just, I don’t know, do things for me when I ask...”
Hannibal seriously considered going back to Fort Lewis right then and beating the shit out of Wyland, but that wasn’t going to help Face. Not right now. Maybe a strategic hit-and-run later on... “That’s an amazing thing you’ve got, kid. One we could really use in the field, for planning and missions, you have no idea.”
“I’ll occasionally hustle pool or get something here or there. I don’t use it very much.” He twisted around a little, side flush now to the major’s ribs and Hannibal automatically slid his arms right to accomodate. “I’ve always been kind of scared of it. Just kind of happens. The sisters used to tell me it wasn’t nice to take advantage of other people...”
Hannibal squeezed a little. It was coming. Whatever was bothering him, it was coming.
“Boss, am I...” And there it was, barely more than a whisper, eyes closed, shut against the trembling admission. “Am I ... am I manipulating you?”
Hannibal thought his heart might stop. “No,” he said instantly. “Impossible.”
“I feel like... I mean, you’re being so good to me, nobody’s ever... and that thing today... what was that today?”
“I think told off a general.”
“But I mean, like, did you do it because I conned you into doing it for me? Because I...because we...”
“Get that clean out of your head right now, lieutenant,” Hannibal growled, throwing the kid off and flipping them around, so that Face landed with a hard thump on the sofa cushions, pinned underneath him. Face in his ACUs, and wasn’t that a gorgeous sight? Hannibal thought, and tried to ignore it.
Blue eyes stared up at him defiantly, and god, that scared Hannibal. The kid was pulling away from him. “Why did you do it?”
“I did it for you, Temp. I did it completely for you.”
Face didn’t even bother struggling, those eyes still trained on Hannibal, the amazement building again. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met before, boss..”
“Same for you, kid.”
“No, I mean... nobody’s ever had any use for me, nobody’s ever...” And then he was faltering, failing. But it was okay, because Hannibal knew what he was trying to say.
“Nobody’s ever been there for you, have they, kid?”
Those eyes slid shut.
“And why would I be?”
Hannibal had no idea how he was supposed to say this to the kid. He’d been around longer, he’d seen more. Friends killed, bodies left behind in foreign lands. Friends married, happy with kids, bitter in divorce. Teamwork, friendship, fellowship, he knew intimately. But he'd never had anybody of his own, not really, nothing like that, not like this, but he still thought he understood how it worked. Because he understood what he wanted.
And it made sense now, validating all his hopes. Here was a man he could fold himself around, like Face could wrap around him, fitting into one another, smoothing out the rough corners, making one another better... wasn’t that how it worked? Wasn’t that how he felt?
“We pull each other up,” he said finally, feeling lame for saying it, the words not the same as what was in his head, but it got those eyes back open. "You pull me up. I want to do that for you, show you the beautiful man that I see in there, let you know..."
“How do you mean?”
“You believe in me, kid?”
Face didn’t even hesitate, that awe still echoing in his voice. “Yeah, boss.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I loved you?”
It didn't seem to register for a second. Hannibal forgot how to breath. And then everything, everything, every cell, every nerve, every fiber of the kid burst into some kind of light, a brilliance breaking over his face, his eyes going shiny with tears. “I think... I think I love you too, John.”
“Think?” Hannibal teased, insides twisting all up.
“I’ve never... it’s...” and he was smiling, pure and genuine and happy, the warmth of it spreading into Hannibal, just looking at it. And Hannibal knew, somehow knew, that this was likely the first time in the kid’s life he’d ever heard those words, like that. It was only that blissful expression that kept Hannibal's heart from shattering in the cold of that realization. “I think you need to show me...”
“...what that feels like?"
Face nodded, and he chuckled.
"My pleasure, my beautiful boy...”
Hannibal had never made love to anyone before. He hadn’t expected what came.
It went slow, underwater, everything had smoothed out, every motion flowing into another. Layers of uniform, boots, everything peeled off, sluffing away like dead skin, hitting the floor, until there was nothing left between them but one of Face’s hands against Hannibal’s chest, everything touching. Mouth and pecs and abs and cock and legs, all of it, easy against the other man.
Simple and fluid. Gentle and forceful. He supposed they were still on the couch, although it didn’t really matter, because there was Face beneath him, tangling them both together, holding Hannibal close, everything the sweet smell of the younger man’s need, the last little invitation.
It was kissing there at first, kissing that seemed to go on forever, all supple warmth and bright little flecks of pain, nibbles and bites and Hannibal groaned into it, listening to the pleasure of the man beneath him, and deepened it, broadened.
He had his hand between Face’s legs, curling around his cock, sliding back behind his balls. There was no way to stop, no will to do so, to pause and go get what he needed, and the major slipped two fingers into the kid’s mouth, hoping he’d understand. Those blue eyes below him flared in approval and sucked hard, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem. Hannibal almost didn’t notice, the younger man’s hand flailing for lost pants, until a plain packet was pressed into his palm, and Face grinned around his fingers and sucked in deep.
Smiling back, whispering some endearment he didn’t quite catch, Hannibal held them palm to palm, rubbing the little spaces between knuckles with hot fingertips and pulled loose, taking the lube with him.
“Better than spit,” he murmured. “Now what about...”
Those legs fell even further apart, one running up the back of the sofa, the other falling to the floor, one sock still on, blue eyes intense. “No need,” came the little answer.
Better than anything.
He slicked himself and Face tore another kiss loose from him as one of Hannibal’s hands tightened on a hipbone, as his fingers slipped inside. Looser, still deliciously tight, and he didn’t bother prepping at all. He couldn’t. He needed to possess, to be lost in the man beneath him, right then. Make it all real before he woke, before it ended and Face vanished...
There, that. That was a noise he’d never heard before, pushing in as fast and as hard as he dared, something gutteral and visceral and musical. Something real, and Face was panting already around him, concentration broken at last, nothing but awe in that beautiful visage. “Feels different,” he said, breathing out.
“Feels like everything,” Hannibal said, not caring if that made any sense or not, and rolled his hips. “Feels like you...”
“God, yes...”
The rhythm was there, Hannibal falling into it rather than figuring it out, Face coming with him, meeting him on every upstroke, his own erection caught between them and he was moaning, high and pleading, on every down. It drew on and on, carrying them with it, that rhythm. Hands roamed, elbows planted, lungs drew air in and lips on his own took the air away, all of it somehow making sense against the gentle push between them. Everything grew so bright and so out of focus as the final discreet barrier gave way, flooding out, flooded out, and Face’s own warmth was spreading between them, the kid sighing instead of screaming on the edge of his hearing, sense for anything but Templeton utterly lost...
Hannibal came back first, some time later, fading orgasm still tinged bright by the wonder that was this man in his arm. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He was incapable of imagining such a thing. And he’d never have to. No need to imagine anything anymore.
Face yawned and rotated a little, bringing their faces close, rubbing noses.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” was the blissed-out little reply.
“Proof enough for you, love?”
Something flickered across the kid’s face, and then it was gone, banished, at least for now, and a smile surfaced. He smacked his lips and dug back into the soft cushions. Decision made. Peace found, at least for now, the space between them utterly gone, at least for now, and Hannibal felt a sting in his face, through his nose, one he hadn’t felt in years...
“I wanna wake up here every morning.”
"Anything you want, sweetheart." And cuddled him a little closer.
