sonora_coneja (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sonora_coneja) wrote2010-10-31 10:06 am
sonora_coneja) wrote2010-10-31 10:06 am
The Ganges
Pairing: Face/Murdock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con. Or dub. Depends on how you want to view it
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the original kink meme.
Face/gender-swap Murdock
face decides to take what he wants, because Murdock is crazy and he doesn't think anyone would believe her.
Face is forced to room with Murdock on a mission, and he can’t take any more of her (inadvertent) teasing.
They never let Murdock have her own room.
They’ve tried it once or twice, on these jobs, at these shitty motels where they’re always bunking two to a room or sharing beds or both. Face has done it, gotten a third room, just for her, but she gets nightmares, bad ones, especially on the nights right after they break her out of the VA, and Hannibal wants his team focused. So they forget she’s a woman and have her room with one of them. They rotate, just to be fair.
Tonight, it’s Face’s turn. And it's not fair at all.
He never quite knows how he feel about it. Murdock’s got a great body, a beautiful face under her baggy clothing and studiously sloppy hats. She lets her hair hang down into her eyes, and laughs at his jokes, and has absolutely no self-awareness at all. Years of military living and years more of psychiatric treatment have made her that way.
She’ll strip down right in the middle of the room, tossing her clothes everywhere on her way to the shower. She’ll sit there in nothing but the lace thongs Face always buys for her, chatting about stall limits of the prototype plane she’s interested in that week. She sleeps naked, so when she has a nightmare or a hallucination or whatever, Face has to curl up behind her and feel all that bare skin, those pert little breasts of hers, pressing against him, trembling and crying and warm and perfect.
It’s enough to drive a man mad.
Murdock’s always a little loopy, the first day or two out of the mental institution. She never quite has her bearings, doesn’t really remember anything, but she follows face around like a faithful puppy, laughing and teasing and carrying on about whatever notion she’s got in her head that week, Billy or Herman Melville or Bigfoot or the Crimea War. He lets her. He loves the sound of her voice, loves how she leans over the table to talk to him, her breasts spilling over her crossed arms, the way she sways her hips when she’s doing her Southern Belle impression.
There’s only so much a man can take.
She’s sleeping in the next bed over, twitching like a dog in a dream. There are little pants and soft hand movements. It’s not a miserable dream, not one she needs rescuing from.
But Face isn’t convinced. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. He needs more proof.
He lifts the ratty coverlet and steals in next to her, clad in nothing but his boxers. Her eyes flutter open, green and huge and lovely, and she cuddles into him, completely open. “The Ganges is overflowing,” she mutters. “All the elephants are going to get washed away, and we won’t have our polo match.”
Close enough.
“Do you need to me to rescue them?” he asks softly, and tilts her head back. She’s half-awake, groggy. She’s gorgeous like this. “Would you like that?”
“Please, sir, do what you can,” she mumbles, and falls back down to wherever she was.
Face doesn’t waste any time. He runs a hand down her belly, feeling just a hint of muscle under all those curves, letting one finger rest against the top of her slit. He nuzzles her neck, and lets the hand go to work, teasing the sensitive little nub.
She bucks, and he moves on top of her, shedding his boxers, holding her down, knees on either side, his cock hardening between them. The heat off her is amazing. Murdock’s growing wet. He catches her whimpers with his lips and his tongue, gaining entrance to that mouth of hers.
It’s better than he ever imagined.
He plays with her for a few minutes, letting his fingers work her until she’s come once or twice, reduced to a murmuring, boneless thing, pliable and soft and maybe not willing, but certainly ready. He doesn’t need a condom. All the electroshock’s left her sterile. He’s checked on that.
Face repositions himself, and pushes up into that glorious void between her legs. He doesn’t go slow, and she might have screamed a little, but he’s still keeping her quiet and nobody else is going to hear anything and come pull him off her. He runs his fingers through that long, silky hair, brushing it off her lovely face as he starts moving inside her.
Her eyes are scrunched up closed, her fists clenching the pillow, and she’s rocking a little, too, in synch with him, and he rides that higher and higher, until he feels the pressure building and has to bite the pillow next to her to keep from crying out as he comes.
She’s muttering as he pulls out and gets a washcloth and cleans her up, things about the Mughals and the opium trade and tea and sailing ships in a light British accent. He wipes down her sweaty forehead.
“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he says. His own sheets are cold by comparison. But if it worked once...
The next morning, as they pile into the van, Murdock is excitedly telling BA about the evil pirate who captured and ravaged her in Bombay. Hannibal looks over at Face, who just shrugs.
“She was on about elephants all night, boss.”
Hannibal smiles. “Ah, the whole British India thing again.”
“Crazy fool,” BA says affectionately, and ruffles her hair. She leans into the touch, and Face finds himself wanting more. She’s so responsive. But he’s going to have to wait. Until he can take the nightmare away again.
+++++
Face can't forget.
What she felt like last night, moaning, moving under him, around him, hot and sweet and right. Murdock's the team's pilot, isn't she? Can't she be his girl? Why not? Who's going to say otherwise?
As they head back for the night, BA and Hannibal are pulling all-night surveillance on the target. Murdock slides her lithe little form against both of them, her standard pre-op hug, and watches Face warily, like some hunted thing, all the way back to the motel.
He thinks she looks adorable like that.
But he doesn't know what she's thinking until he throws the car into park and she reaches over and locks his door as he's trying to get out.
"My dream," she says, licking dry lips. She never wears make-up. Face doesn't think she needs it at all. "Was, was that you?"
"No..."
She slaps him. Hard. She's still leaning over him, bracing herself on the door with one arm, panting a little. "We're friends, aren't we?"
"Sure..." he says and he really can't stop the way his hand slides up that smooth arm.
"Friends don't take things without askin', do they?" she asks, voice quickening.
"Not when it's already been offered," he says, nuzzling into her neck. It's a lie and he can't look at that piece of information right now, or she'll see it too. "Don't you remember, baby?"
She gives a little whimper at the pet name, but still pushes away, taking the motel key out of his jacket as she goes. Gets out and slams the door behind her, swaying like she does, and Face is after her, sprinting. He's faster, grabs her right as she's got the key in the lock.
She whirls around, punches him hard in the chest, but that's her mistake because she's facing him and he slams her hard against the wooden door, hands on either side of her head.
Murdock looks at him with wide eyes. Those beautiful green eyes, shining with fear and something that could be lust, attraction... Hope. It's hope. She still trusts him and that's fucking perfect right now
He runs a soft hand down her cheek, feeling her shiver. "Shh, baby, it's okay, it's okay. You know I wouldn't hurt you."
"No," she says, swallowing. "You're Faceman."
The trust in her voice does interesting things to his body and he has to get her inside, now. Right now. Face reaches beyond her, letting his arm slide across those perfect breasts, turns the key and pushes her in.
It's not very much of a push, but she stumbles backwards and hits the bed, legs hooking on the mattress, body sprawled out.
He doesn't give her any time to react. Face is out of his jacket and his shirt in one smooth motion and on top of her. She puts a hand on his bare chest, light, no pressure, and stares up into his face like she's trying to figure out who he is.
"Face?"
He smooths down her hair, letting his hands follow the contours of her body to the hem of her blouse. He resists the urge to rip it off. Lord, he didn't get to do this last time. "It's okay, baby," he tells her. "You trust me, don't you?"
She nods, and off comes the blouse. Murdock arches a bit as he unhooks her bra, throwing it away, and she arches a bit more as he takes one of those sensitive nubs in his mouth, sucking until it's tight, doing the same to the other, back and forth, until she's panting for a whole different reason.
He runs a hand through that thick black hair of hers. "Be here with me, baby," and when he finally feels the nod, he slides down her body a bit more.
Her shoes and jeans are discarded, the thong, and she's still shaking as he pushes her legs apart a little, slipping his tongue in, right over her clit, and she's moaning like a whore now, all protests forgotten as she wraps her hands in his hair, holding him there as he puts years of experience to good use.
Soon, too soon, he feels her clench up and that pulse of orgasm runs through her and she's exhausted on the duvet, chest heaving as he moves back up and draws her in for a long, slow kiss.
"Still here?"
"Face..." and her head falls back. One hand plays in the light hair above his belt.
He shucks the rest of his clothing, freeing an aching cock, this being a good sign and all, and holds her wrists, just as he pushes up into her, slick and wet and goddamn if it doesn't feel even better than last night.
He strokes sweaty hair off her beautiful features, screwed up in concentration. "You here, Murdock?"
"...yes...". Her feet wrap up around his waist.
Face takes that as another good sign, and starts moving.
It's perfect, watching her like this, feeling her tighten up around him, drawing sweet little noises out that push him higher, up towards climax, so much better than he could have ever hoped, and it's over far too quickly. He's coming inside her, hot and fast, vision crinkling at the edges as she comes too, and he has to remember to roll as he falls to the bed, still inside her.
She doesn't unhook and he doesn't care to suggest that she do so. They lay like that for who knows how long before she puts that hand back between them.
"Face," she asks, voice broken, "Where are we?"
"Right here with each other, baby, where we belong," he tells her, and cuddles her closer. "You're all mine, Murdock. You okay with that?"
She doesn't push away. He stays up for a long time, watching her sleep. With Murdock, he knows, it can be a little tricky, interpreting, but he's sure, right then, that she's happy.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con. Or dub. Depends on how you want to view it
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the original kink meme.
Face/gender-swap Murdock
face decides to take what he wants, because Murdock is crazy and he doesn't think anyone would believe her.
Face is forced to room with Murdock on a mission, and he can’t take any more of her (inadvertent) teasing.
They never let Murdock have her own room.
They’ve tried it once or twice, on these jobs, at these shitty motels where they’re always bunking two to a room or sharing beds or both. Face has done it, gotten a third room, just for her, but she gets nightmares, bad ones, especially on the nights right after they break her out of the VA, and Hannibal wants his team focused. So they forget she’s a woman and have her room with one of them. They rotate, just to be fair.
Tonight, it’s Face’s turn. And it's not fair at all.
He never quite knows how he feel about it. Murdock’s got a great body, a beautiful face under her baggy clothing and studiously sloppy hats. She lets her hair hang down into her eyes, and laughs at his jokes, and has absolutely no self-awareness at all. Years of military living and years more of psychiatric treatment have made her that way.
She’ll strip down right in the middle of the room, tossing her clothes everywhere on her way to the shower. She’ll sit there in nothing but the lace thongs Face always buys for her, chatting about stall limits of the prototype plane she’s interested in that week. She sleeps naked, so when she has a nightmare or a hallucination or whatever, Face has to curl up behind her and feel all that bare skin, those pert little breasts of hers, pressing against him, trembling and crying and warm and perfect.
It’s enough to drive a man mad.
Murdock’s always a little loopy, the first day or two out of the mental institution. She never quite has her bearings, doesn’t really remember anything, but she follows face around like a faithful puppy, laughing and teasing and carrying on about whatever notion she’s got in her head that week, Billy or Herman Melville or Bigfoot or the Crimea War. He lets her. He loves the sound of her voice, loves how she leans over the table to talk to him, her breasts spilling over her crossed arms, the way she sways her hips when she’s doing her Southern Belle impression.
There’s only so much a man can take.
She’s sleeping in the next bed over, twitching like a dog in a dream. There are little pants and soft hand movements. It’s not a miserable dream, not one she needs rescuing from.
But Face isn’t convinced. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. He needs more proof.
He lifts the ratty coverlet and steals in next to her, clad in nothing but his boxers. Her eyes flutter open, green and huge and lovely, and she cuddles into him, completely open. “The Ganges is overflowing,” she mutters. “All the elephants are going to get washed away, and we won’t have our polo match.”
Close enough.
“Do you need to me to rescue them?” he asks softly, and tilts her head back. She’s half-awake, groggy. She’s gorgeous like this. “Would you like that?”
“Please, sir, do what you can,” she mumbles, and falls back down to wherever she was.
Face doesn’t waste any time. He runs a hand down her belly, feeling just a hint of muscle under all those curves, letting one finger rest against the top of her slit. He nuzzles her neck, and lets the hand go to work, teasing the sensitive little nub.
She bucks, and he moves on top of her, shedding his boxers, holding her down, knees on either side, his cock hardening between them. The heat off her is amazing. Murdock’s growing wet. He catches her whimpers with his lips and his tongue, gaining entrance to that mouth of hers.
It’s better than he ever imagined.
He plays with her for a few minutes, letting his fingers work her until she’s come once or twice, reduced to a murmuring, boneless thing, pliable and soft and maybe not willing, but certainly ready. He doesn’t need a condom. All the electroshock’s left her sterile. He’s checked on that.
Face repositions himself, and pushes up into that glorious void between her legs. He doesn’t go slow, and she might have screamed a little, but he’s still keeping her quiet and nobody else is going to hear anything and come pull him off her. He runs his fingers through that long, silky hair, brushing it off her lovely face as he starts moving inside her.
Her eyes are scrunched up closed, her fists clenching the pillow, and she’s rocking a little, too, in synch with him, and he rides that higher and higher, until he feels the pressure building and has to bite the pillow next to her to keep from crying out as he comes.
She’s muttering as he pulls out and gets a washcloth and cleans her up, things about the Mughals and the opium trade and tea and sailing ships in a light British accent. He wipes down her sweaty forehead.
“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he says. His own sheets are cold by comparison. But if it worked once...
The next morning, as they pile into the van, Murdock is excitedly telling BA about the evil pirate who captured and ravaged her in Bombay. Hannibal looks over at Face, who just shrugs.
“She was on about elephants all night, boss.”
Hannibal smiles. “Ah, the whole British India thing again.”
“Crazy fool,” BA says affectionately, and ruffles her hair. She leans into the touch, and Face finds himself wanting more. She’s so responsive. But he’s going to have to wait. Until he can take the nightmare away again.
+++++
Face can't forget.
What she felt like last night, moaning, moving under him, around him, hot and sweet and right. Murdock's the team's pilot, isn't she? Can't she be his girl? Why not? Who's going to say otherwise?
As they head back for the night, BA and Hannibal are pulling all-night surveillance on the target. Murdock slides her lithe little form against both of them, her standard pre-op hug, and watches Face warily, like some hunted thing, all the way back to the motel.
He thinks she looks adorable like that.
But he doesn't know what she's thinking until he throws the car into park and she reaches over and locks his door as he's trying to get out.
"My dream," she says, licking dry lips. She never wears make-up. Face doesn't think she needs it at all. "Was, was that you?"
"No..."
She slaps him. Hard. She's still leaning over him, bracing herself on the door with one arm, panting a little. "We're friends, aren't we?"
"Sure..." he says and he really can't stop the way his hand slides up that smooth arm.
"Friends don't take things without askin', do they?" she asks, voice quickening.
"Not when it's already been offered," he says, nuzzling into her neck. It's a lie and he can't look at that piece of information right now, or she'll see it too. "Don't you remember, baby?"
She gives a little whimper at the pet name, but still pushes away, taking the motel key out of his jacket as she goes. Gets out and slams the door behind her, swaying like she does, and Face is after her, sprinting. He's faster, grabs her right as she's got the key in the lock.
She whirls around, punches him hard in the chest, but that's her mistake because she's facing him and he slams her hard against the wooden door, hands on either side of her head.
Murdock looks at him with wide eyes. Those beautiful green eyes, shining with fear and something that could be lust, attraction... Hope. It's hope. She still trusts him and that's fucking perfect right now
He runs a soft hand down her cheek, feeling her shiver. "Shh, baby, it's okay, it's okay. You know I wouldn't hurt you."
"No," she says, swallowing. "You're Faceman."
The trust in her voice does interesting things to his body and he has to get her inside, now. Right now. Face reaches beyond her, letting his arm slide across those perfect breasts, turns the key and pushes her in.
It's not very much of a push, but she stumbles backwards and hits the bed, legs hooking on the mattress, body sprawled out.
He doesn't give her any time to react. Face is out of his jacket and his shirt in one smooth motion and on top of her. She puts a hand on his bare chest, light, no pressure, and stares up into his face like she's trying to figure out who he is.
"Face?"
He smooths down her hair, letting his hands follow the contours of her body to the hem of her blouse. He resists the urge to rip it off. Lord, he didn't get to do this last time. "It's okay, baby," he tells her. "You trust me, don't you?"
She nods, and off comes the blouse. Murdock arches a bit as he unhooks her bra, throwing it away, and she arches a bit more as he takes one of those sensitive nubs in his mouth, sucking until it's tight, doing the same to the other, back and forth, until she's panting for a whole different reason.
He runs a hand through that thick black hair of hers. "Be here with me, baby," and when he finally feels the nod, he slides down her body a bit more.
Her shoes and jeans are discarded, the thong, and she's still shaking as he pushes her legs apart a little, slipping his tongue in, right over her clit, and she's moaning like a whore now, all protests forgotten as she wraps her hands in his hair, holding him there as he puts years of experience to good use.
Soon, too soon, he feels her clench up and that pulse of orgasm runs through her and she's exhausted on the duvet, chest heaving as he moves back up and draws her in for a long, slow kiss.
"Still here?"
"Face..." and her head falls back. One hand plays in the light hair above his belt.
He shucks the rest of his clothing, freeing an aching cock, this being a good sign and all, and holds her wrists, just as he pushes up into her, slick and wet and goddamn if it doesn't feel even better than last night.
He strokes sweaty hair off her beautiful features, screwed up in concentration. "You here, Murdock?"
"...yes...". Her feet wrap up around his waist.
Face takes that as another good sign, and starts moving.
It's perfect, watching her like this, feeling her tighten up around him, drawing sweet little noises out that push him higher, up towards climax, so much better than he could have ever hoped, and it's over far too quickly. He's coming inside her, hot and fast, vision crinkling at the edges as she comes too, and he has to remember to roll as he falls to the bed, still inside her.
She doesn't unhook and he doesn't care to suggest that she do so. They lay like that for who knows how long before she puts that hand back between them.
"Face," she asks, voice broken, "Where are we?"
"Right here with each other, baby, where we belong," he tells her, and cuddles her closer. "You're all mine, Murdock. You okay with that?"
She doesn't push away. He stays up for a long time, watching her sleep. With Murdock, he knows, it can be a little tricky, interpreting, but he's sure, right then, that she's happy.