All Grown Up
Oct. 29th, 2010 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Hannibal/Face
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage (16)
Summary: Fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
Hannibal/Girl!Face, be my first (aka Underage!Face) Hannibal’s a captain working an ROTC detatchment, and his youngest cadet, Temperance Peck, will not leave him alone.
A drab olive skirt, cadet uniform colors, pushes up over a knee, and Captain Smith knows he’s being punished.
He’d come to this understanding almost immediately after moving into this job. Congratulations, his superiors in Iraq told him, you’re getting an ROTC detachment. It’ll be good for your career. Choice of follow-on assignments later. It’ll be great.
It wasn’t great. It wasn’t great because he was stuck in butt-fuck nowhere Texas, where women started at size sixteen and grown men kept their high school football trophies on their mantles. It wasn’t great because the college students he had were either indifferent to the whole military thing, and just wanted their scholarships, or were way, way, way too excited about it.
But all that he could handle. Austin, Dallas and College Station were all within a weekend’s driving distance, he’d just gotten a big pay raise with lasy year’s promotion to captain, and best of all, he wasn’t getting shot at or living in the sand, eating MREs three times a day.
He knows he’s being punished because of that Peck girl.
Temperance Peck, the grinning sixteen-year-old who’d somehow managed not only to graduate from her catholic high school two years early, but con her way into a full ROTC scolarship. He hadn’t understood it at first, but after only a few weeks of the first semester with her, he thinks he understands why the nuns had let her go so readily.
But she was Smith’s problem now. And here she was, in his office, locking the door behind her, unfastening her tie, taking her bun out, unbuttoning the top of her uniform blouse, hiking that skirt up over lean, tan thighs. Again. Like clockwork, every goddamn Friday afternoon.
“Please, pretty please, Hannibal,” she pleaded, using the nickname he got over in Desert Storm, the one he wishes he’d never shared with her. When she says it, there’s a glint of humor in her eye, r completely at odds with the rest of her appearance. “You never give me an answer.”
That’s true. He doesn’t trust himself when she gets like this. “I usually throw you out.”
“You always throw me out,” she whines, and steps a little closer to the desk. Aw, hell, Smith can see her cleavage poking out of a red silk bra, just above the last button she opens.
The bra looks expensive. He wonders where she got the money to buy that. Probably scammed it. All that potential. He hates seeing her waste it on meaningless thingslike that. “I’m in college now! Everybody does it in college!”
He shouldn’t keep talking, but he can’t resist. “I never knew you were into what everybody else does.”
“Well,” and that kind of stops her for a moment. “I guess, well, I get a lot of offers from the boys, and they’re all so immature...”
Immature. That’s hilarious, coming from this slip of a girl who hasn’t grown into her own body.
Yet, Hannibal can see the hints of what she’ll someday be, the way her hips turn when she walks or the unfinished swell of her chest under the uniform jacket she’s stripping off right now. She’s going to be a knock-out. In a lot of ways, she already is.
He gets what she means by immature, he really does. Most of his students have had easy lives. They're still kids. She hasn't, and she's not. The girl’s had to grow up too fast, losing her parents, left alone in the world, using her smarts and all that hidden toughness to pull her through a foster care system that destroys most of its inmates. She’s really older than sixteen, isn’t she?
She's still smiling at him.
His pants are getting tight and he needs to get her out of here. Now.
As if she can tell what’s going on behind the desk, she grins wider, and comes all the way around to perch on one of his knees. Her legs go on either side, like she’s riding one of those ubiquitous mechanical bulls, and through the cheap fabric of his uniform slacks, Hannibal can feel the wetness there.
She’s not wearing panties.
“Temp, you need to go.”
“Why?” She accentuates it with a buck of her hips that sends shockwaves into his groin. “Why, Hannibal? I like you. I know you like me. I want you to do it.”
He braces himself, holding her at arm’s length. “It’s not that I don’t want to, kid,” and shit, did he really just say that?
She rocks again. “Then why don’t you?” How can he explain this to her? He opens his mouth and she puts a finger on his lips. “And don’t give me your bullshit about rules and the Army. I see you, Hannibal. You don’t really care about that stuff.”
“I care more than you think,” he tells her, grabbing her wrist with a heavy hand, eliciting a little whimper from the teenager. “The Army doesn’t do my thinking for me, ‘s’all.”
“Then why not?”
“What do you know about sex? Really know about it?”
She smirks, and makes a little gesture with her hands. “In fourth grade, our teacher had this great demonstration with a banana and a 1970s public service announcement...”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, kid!” Hannibal grunts, trying to hold back his frustration from this girl who so clearly needs his guidance, trying not to just give up and give in. “I mean, about,” and he can’t say love, “emotions, connections, the psychological stuff.”
Temp stops all those little movements and looks at him like he’s crazy. “What’s that got to do with any of this?”
“Why do you keep asking me?”
“I figure, I don’t know, like maybe you know what it’s all about...”
“So I’ve got experience and you want it,” he states, and she winces back a little. “You really going to sell yourself this cheap? To satisfy your curiosity?”
“Not exactly, sir,” and there’s a note of despondence in her voice now.
“Don’t you mean anything to yourself, kid?”
Her free hand comes up and teases the short, standard stubble on the back of his neck. Her mouth moves in a little, but for all her bravado, Hannibal can tell she doesn’t really know what she should do right.
“Hannibal,” she whispers, her eyes big despite the brave words, “that’s why it has to be you. Don’t make me keep begging, I can’t stand...” and then she breaks off, embarrassed.
She’s so innocent underneath all those layers she’s built around herself, Hannibal thinks, and wonders for a second if anybody else has ever seen her this way, ever shown her any compassion or tenderness at all. If she's ever allowed it.
He never should have let her get this close in, but she’s working her way into his lap like she belongs there, and there’s only his thin fly separating the two of them now, and he can feel her heart hammering against his pecs.
He lets his fingers play under the fabric of her blouse, down the buttons. The rank, the tags, the little medals there are all fake, playthings the Army hands out to the kids, but he knows that one day she’ll replace them with real ones, that she’ll be as fine an officer as any.
He can feel the heat rolling off her now, and Hannibal slides his free hand down to the small of her back and drags her in, capturing her mouth for just a moment.. The skirt’s all the way up, bunched around her hips, and he lets himself caress the smooth skin of her ass. “Okay, kid. No more begging. Unless I want you to.”
“Great!” she squeals, panting a little. She slides a hand down his belly, resting it on his belt. “Can I open this up now or what?”
“My show, kid,” he tells her, and lets that hand on her back come around and under, one finger thrusting into the dampness there. She squeals again, leaning in to initiate a kiss now. It’s shy and sweet at first, and then gets more heated as he adds another finger and starts rolling her clit between the first and second digit.
Peck’s doing an admirable job keeping her moans at acceptable levels, and he wonders how many times she’s done this herself in shared bedrooms in strange houses. But she can’t hold it back as she comes, quick and hard, too spun up to last very long. She slumps into his shoulder.
“That was great, Hannibal,” she sighs, and his cock is just begging for attention now. He leans his cheek against hers.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got...”
“Always prepared, boss,” she says, and whips a wrapped condom from her pocket. “I, uh, wasn’t sure about size or whatever, had to swipe it from my roommate.”
She’s got “Hannibal” written on it in pink jelly ink, and he laughs.
Hannibal slides her back a little bit, her legs spread wide and open on either side of his, just far and long enough for him to slip his pants down. He groans as the fabric comes away and his cock springs free.
Peck’s staring at it, and he smirks. “Never seen one of these before, kid?”
Her expression changes. “I’ve seen ‘em,” and she wraps one hand around him experimentally, “but I usually don’t get to touch.”
“How’s it feel?” he asks, and doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He rips the condom package open as she explores, bats her hand away and rolls it on. “Come here.”
She scoots up, grinning again, and her body instinctively tries to roll up on him. “Careful,” he says, and then frowns. “Do you really want your first time...”
“Shut up, Hannibal,” she says, and looks down at where his cock is pressing between her legs. She sounds brave, but her eyes are nervous. “Is that all going to fit?”
“Let’s find out,” he says.
He moves into her as gently as he can, but he knows from experience that he can't make it painless. Temperance can’t hold back the little half-scream, and he feels something tear, and then that wetness that he knows to be blood. She’s shaking, and he wraps his arms around her, bringing her in close for the first few thrusts. Her initial whimpers of pain quiet, turning back into those breathy little moans.
“I, I...” she gasps, and he runs a reassuring hand down her still-clothed shoulder.
“You’re going to be fine, Temp. Come for me.”
She does, for a second time, and a few moments later, so does he, feeling that surge of completion more fully than he has in years. They stay like that for a while, Peck trying to burrow into him, her face wet with sweat and probably tears, but she’s the one to recover first, trying to squirm away.
“Are you okay?” Hannibal asks.
She nods.
“Then what’s going on, kid?”
"You're cuddling me."
Ah, so he is. "It's a common post-coital activity, kid."
“I’m not the touchy-feely type, Hannibal...” She rolls her eyes, still trying to get loose. He’s stronger. “Damnit, let me up!”
“You aren’t going anywhere, Peck.”
“I’m not looking for some kind of commitment, Hannibal, shit.”
“Neither am I.”
“Hannibal, what the hell?”
“Shut up and listen. I have conditions on what just happened.”
“Figures,” she grumbles, and tries to slide back down. He keeps her in close.
“You’re in my unit. I expect loyalty from my troops. Not fidelity, loyalty,” he tells her. “Understand the difference?” She nods. “Can you handle that?”
She nods again, and laughs a little. “You think too much, sir,” she tells him, but her eyes are shining with tears now, and Hannibal wants her more than anything he’s ever wanted before. Wants to take away anything that’s come before, making anything that comes after bearable for her.
“Okay, kid?”
“Okay, sir.”
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage (16)
Summary: Fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
Hannibal/Girl!Face, be my first (aka Underage!Face) Hannibal’s a captain working an ROTC detatchment, and his youngest cadet, Temperance Peck, will not leave him alone.
A drab olive skirt, cadet uniform colors, pushes up over a knee, and Captain Smith knows he’s being punished.
He’d come to this understanding almost immediately after moving into this job. Congratulations, his superiors in Iraq told him, you’re getting an ROTC detachment. It’ll be good for your career. Choice of follow-on assignments later. It’ll be great.
It wasn’t great. It wasn’t great because he was stuck in butt-fuck nowhere Texas, where women started at size sixteen and grown men kept their high school football trophies on their mantles. It wasn’t great because the college students he had were either indifferent to the whole military thing, and just wanted their scholarships, or were way, way, way too excited about it.
But all that he could handle. Austin, Dallas and College Station were all within a weekend’s driving distance, he’d just gotten a big pay raise with lasy year’s promotion to captain, and best of all, he wasn’t getting shot at or living in the sand, eating MREs three times a day.
He knows he’s being punished because of that Peck girl.
Temperance Peck, the grinning sixteen-year-old who’d somehow managed not only to graduate from her catholic high school two years early, but con her way into a full ROTC scolarship. He hadn’t understood it at first, but after only a few weeks of the first semester with her, he thinks he understands why the nuns had let her go so readily.
But she was Smith’s problem now. And here she was, in his office, locking the door behind her, unfastening her tie, taking her bun out, unbuttoning the top of her uniform blouse, hiking that skirt up over lean, tan thighs. Again. Like clockwork, every goddamn Friday afternoon.
“Please, pretty please, Hannibal,” she pleaded, using the nickname he got over in Desert Storm, the one he wishes he’d never shared with her. When she says it, there’s a glint of humor in her eye, r completely at odds with the rest of her appearance. “You never give me an answer.”
That’s true. He doesn’t trust himself when she gets like this. “I usually throw you out.”
“You always throw me out,” she whines, and steps a little closer to the desk. Aw, hell, Smith can see her cleavage poking out of a red silk bra, just above the last button she opens.
The bra looks expensive. He wonders where she got the money to buy that. Probably scammed it. All that potential. He hates seeing her waste it on meaningless thingslike that. “I’m in college now! Everybody does it in college!”
He shouldn’t keep talking, but he can’t resist. “I never knew you were into what everybody else does.”
“Well,” and that kind of stops her for a moment. “I guess, well, I get a lot of offers from the boys, and they’re all so immature...”
Immature. That’s hilarious, coming from this slip of a girl who hasn’t grown into her own body.
Yet, Hannibal can see the hints of what she’ll someday be, the way her hips turn when she walks or the unfinished swell of her chest under the uniform jacket she’s stripping off right now. She’s going to be a knock-out. In a lot of ways, she already is.
He gets what she means by immature, he really does. Most of his students have had easy lives. They're still kids. She hasn't, and she's not. The girl’s had to grow up too fast, losing her parents, left alone in the world, using her smarts and all that hidden toughness to pull her through a foster care system that destroys most of its inmates. She’s really older than sixteen, isn’t she?
She's still smiling at him.
His pants are getting tight and he needs to get her out of here. Now.
As if she can tell what’s going on behind the desk, she grins wider, and comes all the way around to perch on one of his knees. Her legs go on either side, like she’s riding one of those ubiquitous mechanical bulls, and through the cheap fabric of his uniform slacks, Hannibal can feel the wetness there.
She’s not wearing panties.
“Temp, you need to go.”
“Why?” She accentuates it with a buck of her hips that sends shockwaves into his groin. “Why, Hannibal? I like you. I know you like me. I want you to do it.”
He braces himself, holding her at arm’s length. “It’s not that I don’t want to, kid,” and shit, did he really just say that?
She rocks again. “Then why don’t you?” How can he explain this to her? He opens his mouth and she puts a finger on his lips. “And don’t give me your bullshit about rules and the Army. I see you, Hannibal. You don’t really care about that stuff.”
“I care more than you think,” he tells her, grabbing her wrist with a heavy hand, eliciting a little whimper from the teenager. “The Army doesn’t do my thinking for me, ‘s’all.”
“Then why not?”
“What do you know about sex? Really know about it?”
She smirks, and makes a little gesture with her hands. “In fourth grade, our teacher had this great demonstration with a banana and a 1970s public service announcement...”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, kid!” Hannibal grunts, trying to hold back his frustration from this girl who so clearly needs his guidance, trying not to just give up and give in. “I mean, about,” and he can’t say love, “emotions, connections, the psychological stuff.”
Temp stops all those little movements and looks at him like he’s crazy. “What’s that got to do with any of this?”
“Why do you keep asking me?”
“I figure, I don’t know, like maybe you know what it’s all about...”
“So I’ve got experience and you want it,” he states, and she winces back a little. “You really going to sell yourself this cheap? To satisfy your curiosity?”
“Not exactly, sir,” and there’s a note of despondence in her voice now.
“Don’t you mean anything to yourself, kid?”
Her free hand comes up and teases the short, standard stubble on the back of his neck. Her mouth moves in a little, but for all her bravado, Hannibal can tell she doesn’t really know what she should do right.
“Hannibal,” she whispers, her eyes big despite the brave words, “that’s why it has to be you. Don’t make me keep begging, I can’t stand...” and then she breaks off, embarrassed.
She’s so innocent underneath all those layers she’s built around herself, Hannibal thinks, and wonders for a second if anybody else has ever seen her this way, ever shown her any compassion or tenderness at all. If she's ever allowed it.
He never should have let her get this close in, but she’s working her way into his lap like she belongs there, and there’s only his thin fly separating the two of them now, and he can feel her heart hammering against his pecs.
He lets his fingers play under the fabric of her blouse, down the buttons. The rank, the tags, the little medals there are all fake, playthings the Army hands out to the kids, but he knows that one day she’ll replace them with real ones, that she’ll be as fine an officer as any.
He can feel the heat rolling off her now, and Hannibal slides his free hand down to the small of her back and drags her in, capturing her mouth for just a moment.. The skirt’s all the way up, bunched around her hips, and he lets himself caress the smooth skin of her ass. “Okay, kid. No more begging. Unless I want you to.”
“Great!” she squeals, panting a little. She slides a hand down his belly, resting it on his belt. “Can I open this up now or what?”
“My show, kid,” he tells her, and lets that hand on her back come around and under, one finger thrusting into the dampness there. She squeals again, leaning in to initiate a kiss now. It’s shy and sweet at first, and then gets more heated as he adds another finger and starts rolling her clit between the first and second digit.
Peck’s doing an admirable job keeping her moans at acceptable levels, and he wonders how many times she’s done this herself in shared bedrooms in strange houses. But she can’t hold it back as she comes, quick and hard, too spun up to last very long. She slumps into his shoulder.
“That was great, Hannibal,” she sighs, and his cock is just begging for attention now. He leans his cheek against hers.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got...”
“Always prepared, boss,” she says, and whips a wrapped condom from her pocket. “I, uh, wasn’t sure about size or whatever, had to swipe it from my roommate.”
She’s got “Hannibal” written on it in pink jelly ink, and he laughs.
Hannibal slides her back a little bit, her legs spread wide and open on either side of his, just far and long enough for him to slip his pants down. He groans as the fabric comes away and his cock springs free.
Peck’s staring at it, and he smirks. “Never seen one of these before, kid?”
Her expression changes. “I’ve seen ‘em,” and she wraps one hand around him experimentally, “but I usually don’t get to touch.”
“How’s it feel?” he asks, and doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He rips the condom package open as she explores, bats her hand away and rolls it on. “Come here.”
She scoots up, grinning again, and her body instinctively tries to roll up on him. “Careful,” he says, and then frowns. “Do you really want your first time...”
“Shut up, Hannibal,” she says, and looks down at where his cock is pressing between her legs. She sounds brave, but her eyes are nervous. “Is that all going to fit?”
“Let’s find out,” he says.
He moves into her as gently as he can, but he knows from experience that he can't make it painless. Temperance can’t hold back the little half-scream, and he feels something tear, and then that wetness that he knows to be blood. She’s shaking, and he wraps his arms around her, bringing her in close for the first few thrusts. Her initial whimpers of pain quiet, turning back into those breathy little moans.
“I, I...” she gasps, and he runs a reassuring hand down her still-clothed shoulder.
“You’re going to be fine, Temp. Come for me.”
She does, for a second time, and a few moments later, so does he, feeling that surge of completion more fully than he has in years. They stay like that for a while, Peck trying to burrow into him, her face wet with sweat and probably tears, but she’s the one to recover first, trying to squirm away.
“Are you okay?” Hannibal asks.
She nods.
“Then what’s going on, kid?”
"You're cuddling me."
Ah, so he is. "It's a common post-coital activity, kid."
“I’m not the touchy-feely type, Hannibal...” She rolls her eyes, still trying to get loose. He’s stronger. “Damnit, let me up!”
“You aren’t going anywhere, Peck.”
“I’m not looking for some kind of commitment, Hannibal, shit.”
“Neither am I.”
“Hannibal, what the hell?”
“Shut up and listen. I have conditions on what just happened.”
“Figures,” she grumbles, and tries to slide back down. He keeps her in close.
“You’re in my unit. I expect loyalty from my troops. Not fidelity, loyalty,” he tells her. “Understand the difference?” She nods. “Can you handle that?”
She nods again, and laughs a little. “You think too much, sir,” she tells him, but her eyes are shining with tears now, and Hannibal wants her more than anything he’s ever wanted before. Wants to take away anything that’s come before, making anything that comes after bearable for her.
“Okay, kid?”
“Okay, sir.”
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 09:39 pm (UTC)