KINK MEME PART 6
Welcome to the sixth kinkmeme prompts post!
Before you dive right into the fun, there's a few rules and guidelines we'd like to ask you to read (and follow!)
Rules:
-One prompt per comment.
-Give your prompt a meaningful subject line, i.e. "BA/Murdock dog tag fetish".
-You may post anonymously or as a logged in user.
-Once you complete a fill, ( Read more... )
Before you dive right into the fun, there's a few rules and guidelines we'd like to ask you to read (and follow!)
Rules:
-One prompt per comment.
-Give your prompt a meaningful subject line, i.e. "BA/Murdock dog tag fetish".
-You may post anonymously or as a logged in user.
-Once you complete a fill, ( Read more... )
“Hey, kid.” He doesn’t feel his eyes close, but he can’t stop feeling the rush that hits him when he hears his man’s voice. The confident depth of their love for one another is what makes this all possible.
“Are they here?” Having heard Face’s tone, Murdock is pressing close, like he could wiggle through the phone and get to BA.
Face holds him off with a soothing hand. “You guys here?”
“We’re here. Checked in this morning. Currently on our fourth bar. You and HM are going to have to work to catch up with us.”
“Tell me where you are and we’ll be there double time.” There’s a small silence, and his body thrills to the picture of his love that’s dancing in his head, one big hand on his watch, silver brows drawing together, eyes sharpening as he concentrates, working backward to when he sat down and ordered the first shot of Blue.
God damn but he hopes that he can keep from throwing himself at Hannibal the minute they’re back together. The past two days without have been almost more than he can handle, and he has to last four more days, from now til Fat Tuesday. Tuesday at 10am is when the suitcase opens and the game is on. “Do you even know the name of the place, boss?”
Soft deep chuckles are sounding in his ear, sinking into his brain, hardening his cock. “Come back downstairs, kiddo. We’re sitting in the bar you two just walked by on your way to the elevator. I love the way that dark flannel hugs your ass by the way.”
He could get indignant.
He could ask how the hell Hannibal found out where he and Murdock were staying.
He could say something about being a sneaky old man.
But Hannibal is just downstairs, and Hannibal likes the pants, which were worth every single red penny if they made the boss actually admit he likes them. “Order me a martini…”
“No olives. One onion.” Hannibal growls. “Waiting for you, babe.”
That’s not the drink boss is talking about. Not a bit. That’s just about him. That aching tide of happiness crashes over him again, and his fingers tighten on the hard plastic of the phone. How he loves this man. How this man loves him. To do this. To be here. “I love you, John.” he whispers, all joking aside.
The answer is soft, straight from that big, beautiful heart. “Me too, you.”
Murdock’s light touch on his shoulder breaks the spell, opens his eyes. “C’mon, Face.” The pilot is still right beside him, shifting from foot to foot, looking like a lost kitten. “Are they close? Can we go?”
“They’re right downstairs buddy. Sitting in the goddamned bar we walked past.” But Murdock probably didn’t hear that part, because Murdock’s gone. Over the second scrolled-iron bed and out the still open door.
Pushing the big window shut and collecting the key fob from the table he warns, “tell BA he’s got incoming, boss.”, then brushes the phone off and drops it back in his pocket, grabs his leather jacket and Murdock’s hat, which did not survive the trip over the bed, and spins out the door, that wild, happy grin spreading on his face.
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Hah, I was right. They are in New Orleans. *lol*
and Hannibal is a sneaky old man, did Face really think he'd stick to the plan when he could so easily do something far more sexy?
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Of course there are so many loud, happy, intoxicated people jammed in the dark space that the fire marshal would clear the place if he were brave enough to come in here, but all the same, it confirms what he’s heard and hoped was true; it’s pretty okay to be gay at Mardi Gras. That bodes well for the plans he has for the Duke and his young Lieutenant. Very well.
Then Murdock shifts and the crowd moves a few steps here and a few steps there, and Hannibal comes into view, grin on his face and highball in his hand. He’s as casual as can be, dark jeans and one of those blue work shirts he loves, unbuttoned just enough to see the top of his undershirt, sleeves rolled up so they’re not in the way of those dexterous hands as he sets down his just drained glass and lights his cigar.
For a long minute all he can think about is those hands unbuttoning his expensive flannel pants, warm, teasing licks at his rose, and rough denim rubbing against the insides of his knees while Hannibal fucks him hello.
The hot strike of an appreciative blue gaze knocks him out of his momentary daydream. His lover has seen him, and is leaning back against the bar, cubano in hand, staring, waiting. Alpha behavior. Boss doesn’t put his power on display like this on a regular basis. Must be the separation. Or maybe the pants.
Lean hips shift against the barstool at Hannibal's side and the invisible string of brilliant lights that Murdock swears he sees running between their bodies tightens, drawing him in. Not so fast, you wily old wolf, he thinks, leaning back a touch, showing a shade of resistance, feeling his heart rev in response.
Hannibal’s eyes widen for a split second in the murk of the bar, and then narrow as he parks the cigar in a nearby ashtray and stands up to his full six-four, folding his arms across his chest, broadening his shoulders, smiling just the slightest hungry smile, jacking the heat up in an instant.
It’s mighty damned hard to resist the ‘come hither’ in that look, the promise in that stance. Which is further proven by the way people near him are beginning to touch their faces and shift in their chairs just at the overflow. His own body is fluttering in response, urging him to go after what his dominant male is offering, but he’s not quite ready to give in.
He can almost hear the growl thrumming through his mate’s frame as he wets his lips, teeth crimping the lower one, and flicks his gaze down Hannibal’s body, then back up, throwing everything he has into a single, hard-on inducing grin.
Which fazes boss not at all. Bastard. He’s still standing there, smiling tolerantly, being as powerful and commanding as ever. Then the arms slowly start to unfold and for a second Face thinks he might have gotten to him, but boss pulls his trump card, left hand turning the circle of frayed paracord on his right wrist, moving it over his skin. What a bastard.
There’s really no question about giving in now; there’s no way on earth for him to resist, and he wants to get there as fast as he can and quiet down the wolf in his own body with some long lingering kisses. As soon as he starts to move, he sees boss turn and speak to the pretty young bartender, ordering up his drink, so it’s waiting, just like he promised. Owned he might be, but never, ever, taken for granted, never less than adored.
“I hope you bought two pair of those.” Hannibal comments quietly as Face reaches his side, turning, handing him his martini with a light, tender kiss as an appetizer.
“Two?” The first sip of ice-cold, barely tamed gin is ambrosia, and he takes another, savoring the bartender’s skill. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to drag you into a secluded corner and rip them off you.”
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Boss doesn’t put his power on display like this on a regular basis. Must be the separation. Or maybe the pants.
And this is why I love you. And for that last line, OMFG. <3<3<3<3<3
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So in love, these two. I love how you write them!
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I cannot wait until Face submits to Hannibal. Oh my . . .
I have to admit that I am not sure what this fantasy is all about but I am picturing something about Civil War re-enactment maybe??? I will have to go back and re-read. Imagine having to read this again. . . poor me -- but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make!!!
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“Who said I was going to fuck you?” The bartender, who was approaching to offer them another drink, is veering off toward a less intimate conversation, cheeks pink, an amused, yet slightly shocked smile on her face. “I was planning to blow you until you can’t remember your own name. But if you’re not interested…”
“Who said I wasn’t interested?”
Those soft chuckles are putting in another appearance, and he sets down his glass, fingers seeking, to play over the hard muscles in Hannibal’s forearm, looking up into eyes that have gone indigo with lust.
“I guess I can cheat, if I want. You cheated already, boss, or you wouldn’t even be in this place.”
Hannibal immediately puts his innocent face on. “Cheat? I didn’t even bend the rules. You said we couldn’t ask questions about each other’s accommodations. I never asked anyone anything.”
“No. You probably didn’t, knowing you. But stop, huh? Please? I want you to be surprised. At least a little. I want Tuesday to be perfect. I want…”
“I know what you want, darling.” A gentle thumb is tracing the line of his jaw. “It’s us, remember. We can do perfect with a blanket and some moonlight.”
A soft sigh escapes him as he leans in to Hannibal’s touch. He needs this week to go right, but he does have to stop worrying about every little detail and just count on his plan. And this is the kind of cheating he could really get behind. Not to mention that Hannibal’s blowjobs are nothing if not delicious, and he does need to get rid of the tension in his belly, and it would be hardly fair to jerk off later when…
“Give yourself a pass.” Sweet, familiar lips are teasing at his ear as boss moves his thumb down, stroking along the pulse in Face’s neck. “Better yet, I’ll trade you one. I will not try to figure out your plan and you let me take you to heaven.”
He can’t quite fathom the logic in that, but who the hell cares? “Deal. Our room’s on the fourth floor.”
“No.” Hannibal teases, the hand that’s hidden by their bodies moving to gently palm his flannelled ass, lifting him. “How about right here. Up on the bar. Right in front of everyone.” Through his clothes, two big fingers press firmly against his rose, and he while he’s not the exhibitionist that the bartop would require, he’s not ready to wait for total privacy either.
“You said a secluded corner.” Grabbing blindly for his martini to wet his drying lips, he drinks it down in one gulp, feeling the gin bounce back up and dazzle his brain. “So I know you’ve already done your recon.” Their eyes meet and he sees that he knows his man as well as he thought he did. “Take me there.”
Permission secured, Hannibal downs his own shot of Blue with one practiced flip of his wrist, tosses Murdock his hat, which the pilot catches deftly and jams onto his head, and hands Face his jacket on the way to a dingy little hallway, at the end of which is nothing but dark.
Then brightness. All sunshine as Hannibal turns the key he just produced and opens the door enough to squeeze them both through. Boss turns back to re-lock the door and he looks around to find himself standing in the smallest garden in the universe, no more than eight feet square.
There’s a broken table, a sprung loveseat and a couch that’s seen better days, but the flowers are big and beautiful, so someone must take care of the place.
“What the hell, boss?”
The key clatters down onto the tabletop and he’s captured, jacket lifted from his hand and tossed to the sofa. “Your secluded corner, sweetheart. Borrowed from the employees of this fine hotel for a short time.”
“Borrowed?” Hannibal’s hands are roaming, squeezing his ass, caressing his sides, sliding up under his cashmere pullover to rub his back.
“Ok, stolen. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I’ve been watching them all afternoon. They take their breaks on the half hour. Which gives me about twenty minutes to drive you out of your mind. Ready?”
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ooooooohhhhhhhh
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Even if Face isn't . . . I'm ready.
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“I know what you want, darling.” A gentle thumb is tracing the line of his jaw. “It’s us, remember. We can do perfect with a blanket and some moonlight.”
Ahh, the love between these two!!
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