![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Face/Murdock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the original kink meme.
Prompt 63Murdock/Face
The guys always forget that under the baggy shirts and baseball caps, Murdock's a girl. But just because they don't see her that way doesn't mean no one else does. When another soldier takes an interest in Murdock the rest of the team are not happy. Especially Face, which forces him to face his feelings about the crazy pilot.
Face doesn’t recognize Murdock at the O-Club right away, but goes into protective mode when he finds her flirting with some jerk from another unit.
O-Call, at the Club. Every officer on base is here, whether they want to be or not. Some are in uniform, most thought better of that. Polo shirts and bad suits abound. The base commander’s done talking, the alcohol’s flowing, wives and girlfriends are showing up, and it should be a fun night. It really, really should be.
But instead, Face is stuck by the bar, alone, trying to get a beer or three. Hannibal’s off talking to some general and Murdock hasn’t shown up yet.
“Screwdriver.” It’s a woman’s voice, low and Southern, a little tipsy, and entirely sexy. Her back’s to Face, short black hair teasing the neckline of a blue knit dress. It clings to her body, straight, clean, all curve but no fat. Beyond the perfume, which is doing fascinating things to Face right now, she’s casual, calm, simple. He resists the urge to run a hand down that smooth back, make an offer, see what’s underneath. “What are you having, honey?”
“Fat Tire,” the guy she’s with says. The bartender disappears and comes back with a sweating brown bottle and a low tumbler. “So, what are you up to tonight?”
“Waitin’ for friends,” she laughs back.
“Anyone I know?” the guy asks.
“Maybe. I don’t know who you know.”
Face recognizes the guy. It’s some captain from civil engineering. Drunk. A little pudgy around the edges, all the edges, and no, he wasn’t really doing anything with her. Plaid shorts.
What the hell?
He slides in around behind her as she collects her drink, letting his fingertips brush just a little as he leans over to order. “That any good tonight?”
“Aw, Face, you know they never use an’thing but well liquor ‘round here,” she says, turning into the touch, arching just a little, and smiles at him.
“Murdock?”
She bats her eyes. Eyeliner?
The civil engineering captain’s moving in front of her now, a hand on her thigh. Hands definitely should not be there.
“Hey, asshole, you got a problem?”
Face rolls his eyes. “Chivalrous. I like him, Murdock.”
“Lady needs a champion, darlin’.”
“Don’t make me ask again.”
“Dude, are you feeling her up?”
“Ooh, arguin’ over me? I do declare, you boys are makin’ me blush!” She’s still smiling at him, but it’s softened from the grin. There’s something there. But Face can’t figure out what it is. Sadness? No, that’s not quite it.
“You need to leave her alone.”
“Let the lady make her own decisions.”
She hiccups and takes a sip of the orange drink in her hands. Face laughs. “Lady? Her? You got any idea what she does around here?”
“She’s not your girlfriend, right?”
“No.”
“A hooker?”
Who was this guy? “Definitely not. But she’s, uh, she’s a little nuts.”
Murdock grins and leans back against the bar, bracing herself, butt resting on her palms. Her hips thrust out a little. Everything’s on show. And she damn well knows it. She smirks at Face for a second before moving a hand and running it down the other captain’s chest. “I do declare, I love a man who can pull off those plaid shorts. You got any plaid shorts, Face?”
“Not a chance in hell.” She looks fantastic. Since when does Murdock own a dress?
“Then I think I’m going to have another round with sexy shorts here.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Face grabs her arm as he says it. She just stares at him, eyes saying something he can’t quite understand, and lets Captain Plaid pull her away.
Face catches up with them halfway back to the single officer dorm. The sidewalk’s cracked and pitted. He can see her stumbling a little, giggling, clinging onto that guy’s arm. It’s not right. There’s just something about it that just not right.
“Hey, jackass!” Face yells. He’s mostly sober. Can’t blame the alcohol for this one. Just helping out a teammate. That’s all this is.
Captain Plaid stops, and Murdock starts laughing hysterically. He gives her a funny look under the streetlight.
“I told you to leave her alone.”
“I told you to mind your own business.”
“She’s in my unit,” Face says.
“Doesn’t mean you own her.”
Face grabs her arm and starts pulling her away. Captain Plaid starts to make a move, and Face starts to make a fist. Not subtly. “Back off, shitbird.”
They make it a little ways down the sidewalk, the captain staring open-mouthed at them, before she raises any kind of protest. Murdock slaps him but doesn’t actually break free. “The unit female, right?”
The way she says it cuts at him. “Murdock, it’s not like that...”
“I get it, Facey. There ain’t no being a girl in the military.”
They’re inside the dorm building now, by the sofas and the phone nobody uses. She’s getting a little more aggressive now, both hands fighting him, and he tightens down.
“Face, you’re taking this too far.”
“You’ve been drinking, you’re going back to your room.”
And now she yanks loose.
“Nut, huh?”
They stand there for a moment, in the empty foyer, and it’s Face who breaks first. “I don’t like seeing you throw yourself around like that, Murdock. You don’t need to do tha...”
“Where else am I gonna go?” she asks, almost pleading, and it lights something up inside him. He steps in a little. He thinks he knows what it is. Why had he never noticed this before? “You don’t think o’ me as anything...”
Face captures her mouth, a surprised squeak overcoming out the last of her protests. She’s still for a moment, lets his hands move into position, keeps her lips closed against the proposition, and then she shifts and blooms under him.
“Facey,” she whispers, and damn if that doesn’t go straight to his groin. Her room’s at the end of the hall, this floor.
Too far.
He backs Murdock up against one of the couches, throwing them both into shadow, and she’s writhing underneath him as he lays her down. His mouth breaks away for a moment, and her hands are there, tugging him back down.
His pants come off, her dress pulls up. Face wants to do this right, long and leisurely, but Murdock’s not letting him. Her kisses are hard and urgent, her little moans wanton and needy. “Please,” she’s begging, “Please, Face, pleasepleaseplease...”
There’s a hundred reasons not to do this, but he doesn’t care. He slips a hand between her legs, feels the spreading wetness, rips her thong away, which is something he can’t account for at all, and finds her clit with his middle two fingers.
She mewls and rears off the couch, renewing her vise-like grip on his neck and pulling him back down. Face is plastered on top of her now, tongue fighting for dominance as he plays her.
He’s hard, his cock heavy against her warm belly and she finally pushes him away. Hair ruined, eyes huge, lips swollen, legs spread, knees curled up, toes balling. She reaches down to his discarded pants, hands him a condom from his own pocket. There’s something irresistably hot about that. Not the condom itself. Maybe the fact that she knew where it was, knows him that well.
And it hits him like a slug from a .50 cal that she’s always been there, this woman, hidden under baggy shirts and loose jeans, listening to him and BA crack jokes about past girlfriends, sitting through the sex jokes and the comments and the observations and the rules they all have about women, sometimes laughing, sometimes not.
He’s never asked himself why she doesn’t laugh sometimes, why she gets angry and storms out of the room, why she always locks the bathroom door when they’re on the road, how Hannibal never thinks to have her assigned to a female tent when they’re in the desert and whether or not that bothers her.
His buddy, always here, and he’s never really seen her, and isn’t that ridiculous, because she’s...
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her as he takes the little paper square from her, ripping carefully, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Will you?” she asks, barely above a whisper, and he nods as he repositions himself and rolls it on.
Murdock’s watching him now, watching him with that same kind of intensity he sees in her whenever they get hit with AAA or when she gets to strafe some field. It’s a little intimidating, but he gives her another kiss and rocks slowly in.
She moans, wordless, and he stays still for a moment, getting used to that feeling that’s uniquely her and so perfect. The perfume from earlier’s still on her skin. Face wants to remember this.
“Move, my champion,” she gasps, half lost in whatever fantasy she’s falling into.
He pats her on the cheek and thrusts his hips. “Stay with me, baby. Can you do that?”
“Nothing else,” she shivers, and her eye refocus. He thrusts again.
He’s got a pretty steady pace going after the first few, hard and long and deep. Murdock’s not a big fan of pattern. She wraps her legs around his back and drives him even deeper on the next thrust, choking back the loud cry. He does it again.
The next few minutes are nothing but the sound of their bodies, moving in unison, pushing him higher, her louder, him faster. She’s got an arm thrown up the back cushion. He feels the clench in his balls, feels his stomach tighten.
“Come with me, baby,” he whispers, and she nods a little, pulling back out of that abyss one more time to squeeze tight down around his cock with her vaginal muscles, and goddamn, since when could Murdock do that? Face comes with a roar, and she cries out, and then they’re boneless and sated, curling up into each other on the narrow sofa.
“Murdock?” he asks, nuzzling her neck.
She brings a hand around, a finger working down his jawline. “Hmm?”
“I didn’t know you owned a dress.”
“Do I only get this in a dress?” she asks, tensing, and he rubs a reassuring hand down her back. “I mean, am I only a woman, in a dress?”
“You’re the same no matter what you’re wearing, baby.” He likes saying that to her. Likes it a lot.
She burrows closer to him, like she’s trying to get under his skin. “You promise you can see now?”
How long had she been waiting? “Yeah, I can see it.”
“Don’t need to use a dress again?”
Of course. “No, Murdock.”
“Good,” she smiles, sated and happy. “Cause that’s the only one I got, an’ I think you ruined it.”
Looking down, yeah, he had to agree.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the original kink meme.
Prompt 63Murdock/Face
The guys always forget that under the baggy shirts and baseball caps, Murdock's a girl. But just because they don't see her that way doesn't mean no one else does. When another soldier takes an interest in Murdock the rest of the team are not happy. Especially Face, which forces him to face his feelings about the crazy pilot.
Face doesn’t recognize Murdock at the O-Club right away, but goes into protective mode when he finds her flirting with some jerk from another unit.
O-Call, at the Club. Every officer on base is here, whether they want to be or not. Some are in uniform, most thought better of that. Polo shirts and bad suits abound. The base commander’s done talking, the alcohol’s flowing, wives and girlfriends are showing up, and it should be a fun night. It really, really should be.
But instead, Face is stuck by the bar, alone, trying to get a beer or three. Hannibal’s off talking to some general and Murdock hasn’t shown up yet.
“Screwdriver.” It’s a woman’s voice, low and Southern, a little tipsy, and entirely sexy. Her back’s to Face, short black hair teasing the neckline of a blue knit dress. It clings to her body, straight, clean, all curve but no fat. Beyond the perfume, which is doing fascinating things to Face right now, she’s casual, calm, simple. He resists the urge to run a hand down that smooth back, make an offer, see what’s underneath. “What are you having, honey?”
“Fat Tire,” the guy she’s with says. The bartender disappears and comes back with a sweating brown bottle and a low tumbler. “So, what are you up to tonight?”
“Waitin’ for friends,” she laughs back.
“Anyone I know?” the guy asks.
“Maybe. I don’t know who you know.”
Face recognizes the guy. It’s some captain from civil engineering. Drunk. A little pudgy around the edges, all the edges, and no, he wasn’t really doing anything with her. Plaid shorts.
What the hell?
He slides in around behind her as she collects her drink, letting his fingertips brush just a little as he leans over to order. “That any good tonight?”
“Aw, Face, you know they never use an’thing but well liquor ‘round here,” she says, turning into the touch, arching just a little, and smiles at him.
“Murdock?”
She bats her eyes. Eyeliner?
The civil engineering captain’s moving in front of her now, a hand on her thigh. Hands definitely should not be there.
“Hey, asshole, you got a problem?”
Face rolls his eyes. “Chivalrous. I like him, Murdock.”
“Lady needs a champion, darlin’.”
“Don’t make me ask again.”
“Dude, are you feeling her up?”
“Ooh, arguin’ over me? I do declare, you boys are makin’ me blush!” She’s still smiling at him, but it’s softened from the grin. There’s something there. But Face can’t figure out what it is. Sadness? No, that’s not quite it.
“You need to leave her alone.”
“Let the lady make her own decisions.”
She hiccups and takes a sip of the orange drink in her hands. Face laughs. “Lady? Her? You got any idea what she does around here?”
“She’s not your girlfriend, right?”
“No.”
“A hooker?”
Who was this guy? “Definitely not. But she’s, uh, she’s a little nuts.”
Murdock grins and leans back against the bar, bracing herself, butt resting on her palms. Her hips thrust out a little. Everything’s on show. And she damn well knows it. She smirks at Face for a second before moving a hand and running it down the other captain’s chest. “I do declare, I love a man who can pull off those plaid shorts. You got any plaid shorts, Face?”
“Not a chance in hell.” She looks fantastic. Since when does Murdock own a dress?
“Then I think I’m going to have another round with sexy shorts here.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Face grabs her arm as he says it. She just stares at him, eyes saying something he can’t quite understand, and lets Captain Plaid pull her away.
Face catches up with them halfway back to the single officer dorm. The sidewalk’s cracked and pitted. He can see her stumbling a little, giggling, clinging onto that guy’s arm. It’s not right. There’s just something about it that just not right.
“Hey, jackass!” Face yells. He’s mostly sober. Can’t blame the alcohol for this one. Just helping out a teammate. That’s all this is.
Captain Plaid stops, and Murdock starts laughing hysterically. He gives her a funny look under the streetlight.
“I told you to leave her alone.”
“I told you to mind your own business.”
“She’s in my unit,” Face says.
“Doesn’t mean you own her.”
Face grabs her arm and starts pulling her away. Captain Plaid starts to make a move, and Face starts to make a fist. Not subtly. “Back off, shitbird.”
They make it a little ways down the sidewalk, the captain staring open-mouthed at them, before she raises any kind of protest. Murdock slaps him but doesn’t actually break free. “The unit female, right?”
The way she says it cuts at him. “Murdock, it’s not like that...”
“I get it, Facey. There ain’t no being a girl in the military.”
They’re inside the dorm building now, by the sofas and the phone nobody uses. She’s getting a little more aggressive now, both hands fighting him, and he tightens down.
“Face, you’re taking this too far.”
“You’ve been drinking, you’re going back to your room.”
And now she yanks loose.
“Nut, huh?”
They stand there for a moment, in the empty foyer, and it’s Face who breaks first. “I don’t like seeing you throw yourself around like that, Murdock. You don’t need to do tha...”
“Where else am I gonna go?” she asks, almost pleading, and it lights something up inside him. He steps in a little. He thinks he knows what it is. Why had he never noticed this before? “You don’t think o’ me as anything...”
Face captures her mouth, a surprised squeak overcoming out the last of her protests. She’s still for a moment, lets his hands move into position, keeps her lips closed against the proposition, and then she shifts and blooms under him.
“Facey,” she whispers, and damn if that doesn’t go straight to his groin. Her room’s at the end of the hall, this floor.
Too far.
He backs Murdock up against one of the couches, throwing them both into shadow, and she’s writhing underneath him as he lays her down. His mouth breaks away for a moment, and her hands are there, tugging him back down.
His pants come off, her dress pulls up. Face wants to do this right, long and leisurely, but Murdock’s not letting him. Her kisses are hard and urgent, her little moans wanton and needy. “Please,” she’s begging, “Please, Face, pleasepleaseplease...”
There’s a hundred reasons not to do this, but he doesn’t care. He slips a hand between her legs, feels the spreading wetness, rips her thong away, which is something he can’t account for at all, and finds her clit with his middle two fingers.
She mewls and rears off the couch, renewing her vise-like grip on his neck and pulling him back down. Face is plastered on top of her now, tongue fighting for dominance as he plays her.
He’s hard, his cock heavy against her warm belly and she finally pushes him away. Hair ruined, eyes huge, lips swollen, legs spread, knees curled up, toes balling. She reaches down to his discarded pants, hands him a condom from his own pocket. There’s something irresistably hot about that. Not the condom itself. Maybe the fact that she knew where it was, knows him that well.
And it hits him like a slug from a .50 cal that she’s always been there, this woman, hidden under baggy shirts and loose jeans, listening to him and BA crack jokes about past girlfriends, sitting through the sex jokes and the comments and the observations and the rules they all have about women, sometimes laughing, sometimes not.
He’s never asked himself why she doesn’t laugh sometimes, why she gets angry and storms out of the room, why she always locks the bathroom door when they’re on the road, how Hannibal never thinks to have her assigned to a female tent when they’re in the desert and whether or not that bothers her.
His buddy, always here, and he’s never really seen her, and isn’t that ridiculous, because she’s...
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her as he takes the little paper square from her, ripping carefully, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Will you?” she asks, barely above a whisper, and he nods as he repositions himself and rolls it on.
Murdock’s watching him now, watching him with that same kind of intensity he sees in her whenever they get hit with AAA or when she gets to strafe some field. It’s a little intimidating, but he gives her another kiss and rocks slowly in.
She moans, wordless, and he stays still for a moment, getting used to that feeling that’s uniquely her and so perfect. The perfume from earlier’s still on her skin. Face wants to remember this.
“Move, my champion,” she gasps, half lost in whatever fantasy she’s falling into.
He pats her on the cheek and thrusts his hips. “Stay with me, baby. Can you do that?”
“Nothing else,” she shivers, and her eye refocus. He thrusts again.
He’s got a pretty steady pace going after the first few, hard and long and deep. Murdock’s not a big fan of pattern. She wraps her legs around his back and drives him even deeper on the next thrust, choking back the loud cry. He does it again.
The next few minutes are nothing but the sound of their bodies, moving in unison, pushing him higher, her louder, him faster. She’s got an arm thrown up the back cushion. He feels the clench in his balls, feels his stomach tighten.
“Come with me, baby,” he whispers, and she nods a little, pulling back out of that abyss one more time to squeeze tight down around his cock with her vaginal muscles, and goddamn, since when could Murdock do that? Face comes with a roar, and she cries out, and then they’re boneless and sated, curling up into each other on the narrow sofa.
“Murdock?” he asks, nuzzling her neck.
She brings a hand around, a finger working down his jawline. “Hmm?”
“I didn’t know you owned a dress.”
“Do I only get this in a dress?” she asks, tensing, and he rubs a reassuring hand down her back. “I mean, am I only a woman, in a dress?”
“You’re the same no matter what you’re wearing, baby.” He likes saying that to her. Likes it a lot.
She burrows closer to him, like she’s trying to get under his skin. “You promise you can see now?”
How long had she been waiting? “Yeah, I can see it.”
“Don’t need to use a dress again?”
Of course. “No, Murdock.”
“Good,” she smiles, sated and happy. “Cause that’s the only one I got, an’ I think you ruined it.”
Looking down, yeah, he had to agree.
