Aquamaniac vs. the Roman Empire
Copyright 2000
Author: emmastark
Rated: NC-17 SLASH
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephen J. Cannell and Universal.
Warning: M/M SLASH – If you are under the legal age of consent in your area or have a problem with the graphic description of male/male sex, please do not read this story.
Comments: Please
Summary: Everybody gets some during the filming of one of Hannibal’s movies.
Aquamaniac vs. the Roman Empire
"…but see, Face, that’s what’s so great about it! There are no good guys. Just two scarred, battle-weary anti-heroes, fighting to defend their territory. And…" Hannibal continued, sticking a cigar into his mouth, "…I get to play both of ‘em."
Face rolled his eyes as Hannibal stopped to preen in front of the window of the food cart, but raised his lighter to his CO’s cigar. The Colonel did look good, he had to admit. Something about how the sun hit his silver hair and steel armor. But he couldn’t let that distract him. He had to find out about the fish.
"Yes, Hannibal, I know you get to play both the Roman General Hannibus Maximus and the Aquamaniac. I helped you set up this deal, remember?"
Hannibal smiled and clapped Face on the shoulder as they continued on toward the talent trailers. "Couldn’t have done it without you, kid."
Hannibal let his hand linger on his lieutenant’s provocatively bare shoulder. The smoke from his cigar didn’t begin to cover the warm, tropical coconut musk of Face’s tanning oil. Which had done wonders at bringing out Face’s well-defined physique and golden tan.
"But Hannibal, see, this is what I don’t get. We’ve got a swordfight, a chariot race, another swordfight…" Face paged through his battered copy of the script for "Aquamaniac vs. the Roman Empire. "…the Aquamaniac attacking the women bathing in the lake, another swordfight, and then, out of nowhere, there’s this scene with two guys in a hot tub talking about fish!"
"They didn’t have hot tubs in those days, Face. It’s a Roman bath."
"Yeah, whatever. I really don’t know about this, Hannibal."
"You’re just nervous about your big screen debut, Lieutenant. Maybe you need a massage."
And I need a cold shower, Hannibal thought, as he adjusted himself surreptitiously under his armor, or I’ll never make it to the hot tub scene.
"Somebody around here better be nervous. Decker could show up any minute. We’re still wanted men."
More wanted than you know, my little worrywart… Hannibal thought. But that was all going to change at about four o’clock that afternoon. The Roman bath awaited.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Ah ain’ goin’ out dere, fool."
"Sure you are, big guy. We both are. It’ll be fun! Besides, we promised Hannibal. You know how excited he is about this one. He gets to play both bad guys."
"Ain’ goin’ out dere, an’ dat’s final!"
"Hold still. I’m not done yet. And quit waving that thing around. You could put somebody’s eye out."
BA slid his wooden sword into the sheath on his belt and growled. Hannibal had done it again. He was on the jazz, and had somehow got him to agree to be an extra in this film wearing a…
"What you call this, fool?"
"A toga, BA." Murdock gave a final twitch to the white cloth that lay across the burly Sergeant’s broad back. He walked around the man, assessing his work. "And I must say, big guy, you look pretty good for an ugly mudsucka."
BA growled menacingly and grabbed for the Crazyman, but Murdock danced quickly out of reach and made for the door of the dressing room trailer. BA charged after him, yelling "I ain’ goin’ out dere!"
Murdock tumbled out the door of the trailer with BA hot on his heels. But BA paused suddenly, blinded, in the doorway.
A voice, familiar and commanding, wise and lightly mocking, came from the blinding light. "Et tu, BA?"
BA’s vision cleared after a moment. Then he lost his voice.
Before him stood the Colonel of his dreams.
How many nights had he awakened, rock hard, from dreams of Hannibal? Not in the dull green fatigues of their service in Vietnam, but in the shining armor that befitted that white knight. And here he stood, proud, defiant, his round shield and broad sword catching the sunlight. The armor curved across the broad chest. A helmet with scarlet plume hung from his arm, leaving nothing to hide the fine, silver hair. And there was a tantalizing distance between the steel-studded leather skirt of the heavy Roman armor and the high black boots. BA felt his cock rise dangerously beneath the soft, white silk.
Dangerously, because as Murdock had explained in the trailer, snatching away BA’s briefs, the Romans were like the Scots: they went commando.
Hannibal, meanwhile, was dazzled in an entirely different way.
"Fifteen long years together. How is it that I’ve never seen him before?" he wondered, feeling his cock surge against the tight leather tunic that lay beneath his armor.
BA didn’t just stand in the doorway of the little trailer. He filled it. Strong, meaty, dark thighs disappeared under a brief white tunic. The massive chest nearly burst the thin white cloth that stretched across it.
Hannibal grabbed the script from Face’s unresisting hand. Would BA climb into that hot tub… er, Roman bath… with his commanding officer? Would he play out the scene as written? Did he, like Hannibal, enjoy both oysters AND snails?
There was only one way to find out.
Hannibal thrust the script into BA’s hands. "Page 53," he said, a little breathlessly. He blew a few smoke rings to calm himself.
Why try to seduce his already "taken" lieutenant? After all, he thought, blondes may have more fun. But bigger is ALWAYS better. At that thought, coughing desperately around his stogie, Hannibal took off to film his first swordfight of the day. And, he mused hopefully, with the jazz burning in his pale blue eyes, to plan an afternoon hot tub seduction.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
BA and Hannibal had stared blankly at each other for several minutes. But Face and Murdock never noticed.
Just as Face had reached up to open the trailer door, Murdock, chased by BA, had tumbled out. Right into Face’s arms.
Both of them smiled automatically. There was no place on earth they’d rather be than in each other’s arms.
Then they gasped and pushed away from each other and just looked.
Face found his voice first. "Uh, Murdock?"
"MMMmmmmm… yeah, Face?"
"Would you mind terribly if I burned all your t-shirts and khaki pants? Because I really think that except for when you’re naked and in my arms you should be wearing that from now on."
Face’s gaze traced his lover’s body with hot, wild intensity. The flat leather sandals that laced around the lower legs and the short white toga that barely covered the smooth, firm ass emphasized Murdock’s long, strong legs. The bright white cloth cut kitty corner across Murdock’s chest, revealing the irresistible thatch of thick, dark hair beneath. Face was having trouble catching his breath.
Murdock was pretty breathless himself.
He thanked his lucky stars every day, for giving him such a beautiful lover. But now he figured he better start thanking them several times a day. Maybe hourly.
Face’s golden hair gleamed in the soft, even California sun. His warm, oiled, tanned skin contrasted perfectly with the smooth white cloth of his toga. And that toga! Perfectly draped (leave it to Face to dress perfectly for any century), the white cloth spilled across his chest, revealing one delectable, rosy bud.
Suddenly, Face threw himself into Murdock’s arms. Their lips met wantonly, hot and swollen, pressing against each other violently. Their tongues met, fought, and surrendered utterly to each other, savoring the sweet taste of each other’s mouths.
Face’s hands made their way into that dark thatch of chest hair he so loved and he rubbed his thumbs gently against the dark nubs he found buried there. Murdock trembled in his arms.
Murdock reached down and ran his long fingers up Face’s gently oiled thighs. Up, up, until he’d raised the soft white cloth and had the perfect, rounded, muscled sweetness of Face’s bare ass in his hands. He squeezed gently, then harder, reveling in the oil-soft feel of that beloved skin.
Face trailed kisses down Murdock’s throat, then rubbed his cheek against the soft hair of Murdock’s chest. He closed his eyes and threw his arms around his lover, holding him close, close, close.
Mine, he thought. You’re all mine. And the things we’re gonna do today, sweetheart… He licked his lips in anticipation. I’m gonna make you feel so good.
Mine, Murdock thought to himself happily, possessively, as he clutched the conman to him. You’re all mine. And I’m gonna make you so happy, baby! I’m gonna make you feel so good.
Vague thoughts entered both their dreamy heads at that moment, of, perhaps, a picnic on a grassy Roman hilltop. Followed by screwing each other’s brains out. Lots and lots of gloriously decadent Roman love. They hummed happily to themselves, still holding each other tight. Because they knew, now, that dreams like that really could come true.
Murdock and Face were already a little drunk by the time they reached the woods. Drunk with love? Drunk with lust? Yes. But the wine hadn’t helped. They swung the large, heavy picnic basket between them and passed the bottle back and forth.
Face (requisitions officer extraordinare) had spotted the picnic basket first. After leaving BA (who was muttering something under his breath about white knights and seafood and hot tubs), the two men had made their way over to the food cart. Murdock was hungry.
Murdock scarfed a few donuts and washed them down with orange juice as Face peered down at the croissants suspiciously. The on-location catering was not quite up to his standards.
As they stood there, Face noticed that back behind the snack table (where all the extras, togas dragging, were beginning to queue up) a young woman was packing up a very large picnic basket. She put in several bottles of red wine, a round of brie, a long stick of French bread. Small containers filled with greek olives and balsamic vinegar and olive oil went in as well. Then there was the fruit. Grapes, plums, peaches. Passionfruit and mangoes. Strawberries. Fruit of all kinds disappeared into the basket’s depths, and who knew what other delicacies? That was more like it.
He had to have it. They had to have it.
Face grabbed a clipboard off a nearby table and, leaving Murdock to the donuts momentarily, walked back behind the food table like he owned the place.
"Miss? Miss! I hate to be the one to tell you this, but everybody’s waiting on that basket."
The woman looked up, suddenly flustered, into Face’s self-assured blue eyes. "But… they told me one o’clock! I thought… the Director said…"
The woman looked down at Face’s toga, admiring his legs. But he could see doubt creeping into her eyes. It was hard to look official while wearing a bedsheet. He reached out a hand, and she grasped it automatically. "Willmore," he said firmly. "Drake Willmore, Assistant Production Manager. What an outfit, eh? That Director is a bastard. He’s driving all of us crazy. Verisimilitude. The guy is nuts on verisimilitude. Bad as Cimino. Has the entire crew wearing period costumes. It’d be just like him to tell you one thing…"
Face patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Don’t worry about it. I’ll smooth it over. Give me the basket now, and I’ll take it right over and straighten everything out."
The caterer smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much, Mr. Willmore! We really need this contract."
Face felt a little pinge of guilt. "No problem. Uh… by the way… did they tell you about the other picnic?"
The woman’s eyes widened. "Other?"
"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. All the signals are getting crossed today. That’s the basket that needs to be ready by this afternoon."
The woman sighed in relief. "I’ve got time then! I’ll make another one up right away."
Face smiled at her. "Great. What was your name again?"
"Lorna," the woman murmured, shyly.
Face reached over and kissed Lorna’s cheek. She blushed brightly.
"Thank you, Lorna." Face looked into her eyes for one more moment, then picked up the picnic basket. He grabbed Murdock’s hand and pulled him away from the food table. They disappeared into the crowd.
After a few moments, Face turned to Murdock. "How’d you like to go for a picnic up in those woods…" he started. But then he saw Murdock’s face.
Murdock’s chin was down on his chest. His lower lip trembled. He sniffed.
Face stopped and set down the picnic basket. He tried to draw Murdock close, but Murdock stiffened and folded his arms across his chest.
"What’s wrong, Murdock?" Face asked, bewildered. Everything had been all right a few minutes ago.
Murdock turned away, but Face grabbed him by the shoulders. "Oh no you don’t! What’s wrong? What did I…" Face broke off suddenly. Uh oh. "This is about Lorna, isn’t it?"
Murdock nodded. Face watched as a tear formed at the corner of Murdock’s eye, then dropped silently down his cheek.
"Oh, baby, don’t cry! I didn’t mean… It’s just… I wanted the picnic basket, and that’s how…" Face sighed and dropped to the ground, crossing his legs beneath him. "I shouldn’t have kissed her."
Murdock sniffed, then dropped down beside Face. "It’s just… I’m so in love with you Facey. You know that. I want ya all to myself."
"Oh, baby, you’ve got me! You’ve got me! I don’t want anybody else, I swear! You… you’re everything to me. More than I deserve…" Face turned his blue gaze on Murdock, his eyes hazy with tears.
Murdock grabbed hold of Face and pulled him close. "Don’ say that, muchacho. Don’t you never say that. You’re…" Murdock couldn’t think of enough words to say what Face was to him. So he kissed him, and put everything he was into that kiss.
Face melted in his arms and time stood still. Their lips were fire and nothing else existed. Only them. Forever.
Tongues met, tasted, caressed. Hands held tight. It was like the first time, but with the experience and confidence of every time in between. It was like a wedding kiss, all bright and shiny and happy and dear. Promising everything, all at once, and sealing those promises tightly. Cementing everything that had come before and giving each of them just a glimpse at how good it could be for the rest of their lives.
They kissed for a long time. Murdock let his hands drift through Face’s soft, honey-colored hair. Face ran his hands down Murdock’s back. Murdock breathed in Face’s sweet breath. Face tasted Murdock’s tongue.
Suddenly, someone paused in front of them, blocking the sun, silhouetted in the bright morning light.
"What’re you two boys doing, making out behind the trailer? Aren’t you supposed to be in the battle scene right now?"
Hannibus Maximus.
Murdock and Face backed up from each other a little, smiling shyly at their commanding officer. "We, uh, got a little distracted, Colonel," Murdock said sheepishly.
Face smiled happily. "We were thinking of going on a picnic, Hannibal."
Murdock stood up and pulled Face up after him.
"I see you already appropriated a picnic basket." Hannibal smiled at them both. "Just be back by sunset. We’ll need you to be background for the big fight scene between the General and Aquamaniac."
"I still don’ know how you’re gonna do that, Colonel. I mean, with you playin’ both parts…"
Hannibal clapped Murdock on the shoulder. "The magic of filmmaking, Captain."
The conman’s face fell, suddenly. "We were supposed to film that hot tub, er, Roman bath scene this afternoon, Colonel. I forgot all about it!"
Hannibal smiled wickedly. "Don’t worry about it, Face. I’ve, uh, recast that part." Hannibal licked his lips and thought about BA in his toga. Then he thought about BA in a wet toga. He swallowed. "Uh, you boys go on. I’m going to be pretty busy this afternoon anyway."
Hannibal moved off into the crowd, ducking beneath a camera on a large crane and catching up with the Director.
Face reached out his hand to Murdock and looked over at him hopefully. "Will you come?"
Murdock took Face’s hand, then kissed it gently. "I’ll follow you anywhere, love."
They smiled at each other and picked up the picnic basket, swinging it between them.
The film crew was working on location up in the Santa Monica Mountains. Which was passing for the Roman Empire. Southern California had passed for just about every place else, from Korea to Saudi Arabia, so it probably wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the audience. The audience for Aquamaniac movies didn’t tend to be too picky anyway.
Face and Murdock walked to the edge of the clearing where the crew had set up its equipment. A path (less traveled by, by the look of it) disappeared into the woods. They took it.
The woods were lovely, dark and deep. A brook burbled nearby, but out of sight. Birds twittered and sang up in the trees as the two men walked along quietly.
Face had opened up a bottle of wine, and they passed it back and forth, drinking straight from its throat. The dappled sunlight grew warmer as the path climbed. Face kept looking over at his lover.
He looked wonderful. Murdock’s face was calm and happy. The white cloth of his toga contrasted strongly with the dark thatch of hair on his chest, but also set off his smooth, pale skin. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on Murdock’s cheek, and Face longed to run his tongue along his lover’s jaw, taste his sweet saltiness.
Face paused, suddenly. He felt dizzy with love and wine.
Here he was. Everything had always been wrong for him. Lonely, outcast. Unloved. Too scared to give his heart away, for fear it would be broken. Hurt and alone.
Now everything was right. The man who walked beside him had made it that way.
He had learned a lot of poetry when he was at the orphanage. The fathers had been big on people reciting stuff. A poem he hadn’t thought of in a very long time leapt into his mind, and softly, so he wouldn’t disrupt the singing of the birds, he began to say the words.
"When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possest,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despairing
Haply I think on thee: and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love rememb’red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings."
Face looked up at Murdock, then, a little embarassed at his outburst. But Murdock was smiling at him with such love in his eyes that he had to pause a moment and catch his breath. "I’m so lucky to have you," he said softly. "I thought I’d be alone forever. But then you came and made everything right."
They set down the picnic basket and wrapped their arms around each other. "I love you Facey," Murdock said, holding Face tight. "Forever."
Face smiled and kissed Murdock through his tears. "Forever," he promised.
Their vows happily made, before the squirrels and the birds and the trees, the two men started again along their path. Their picnic would be a celebration. They needed no excuse. They had each other.
The path through the woods opened, suddenly, onto a grassy hill. Murdock took one look at the hill, glanced at Face, then dropped the picnic basket and took off running up the steep incline.
Face picked up the basket and watched Murdock climb the hill. His long, bare legs stretched full length as he ran, and his short toga, built for less athletic pursuits, gave Face occasional glances at Murdock’s smooth, tight ass. He smiled. It was a very good day.
The wine they’d been drinking buzzed gently through his bloodstream as he walked up the hill after Murdock. The sun was high overhead, and he could hear the birds singing down in the trees below them. It was nice to get out of the city for awhile. Here, in the Santa Monica Mountains, you could almost forget Los Angeles, smog, MPs, bad guys. They were all alone together, just the two of them. And it was time to make the most of that.
Murdock was still breathing hard when Face reached the top of the hill. He was staring out, toward the west, and Face followed his gaze.
The ocean spread out for hazy blue miles until it met the softer blue horizon. A few puffy white clouds trailed across the sky, cotton candy decoration on a perfect California day. A soft breeze, scented delicately with ocean salt, moved through the comfortably warm air, rustling the grass.
Face set the picnic basket on the ground and trailed his fingers down Murdock’s arm. "Hungry?"
Murdock turned to Face, looking down into his eyes. "So hungry, baby…" he murmured. He grabbed the back of Face’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Tasting his lips, running his tongue along the smoothness of Face’s tongue. He kissed Face’s forehead, then his eyes. He ran his lips along Face’s jaw, then pulled him close and kissed the back of his neck. He licked the place on Face’s shoulder where his toga was tied, tasting salt and inhaling Face’s sweet, musky scent. He smelled like coconut oil and fresh, green grass, and salt and musk. Murdock did feel hungry for him, starving, like he could never get enough. He tightened his arms around Face’s chest, lifted him off the ground, and spun him around.
"Murdock!" Face was already a little dizzy from the wine. Turning and turning in Murdock’s arms made his head spin. He closed his eyes, though, and let the world turn around him. He was safe.
Relatively speaking, at least. Murdock was getting a little dizzy himself, and tumbled, finally, to the ground on top of Face.
"Ooommmph."
Murdock lifted up quickly. Face had his arms outstretched, hands clenching bunches of grass. His eyes were closed.
"Face! Face, you okay?"
Murdock began running his hands down Face’s sides to see if there was anything broken.
Face opened one eye tentatively. "Murdock?"
Murdock breathed a sigh of relief. He kissed Face again, this time gently, on the lips. "I landed on you."
"I noticed." Face smiled. "We picked a good path, huh?"
Murdock smiled back at him. "It’s perfect, Faceguy. I never saw such a perfect place."
Murdock sat back on his haunches, running his fingers down along the white material that accented Face’s tanned chest. "You hungry?"
"I don’t know if I can keep my hands off you long enough to eat." Face reached out a hand and slid it deftly under the skirt of Murdock’s toga.
Murdock gasped. Face’s fingers gently traced his balls, then grabbed hold of his cock, squeezing and stroking. Murdock could feel his breath quickening. So good. He was getting so hard.
Face just laid there beneath him on the grass, smiling up at him, reaching up for him, touching him so sweet. Longer strokes, now, strong, even strokes that slid against his hot skin.
Murdock dropped to his knees.
"You like that, baby?"
Murdock couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even breathe. Every stroke of Face’s hand smoothed slick moisture down Murdock’s cock. Heat radiated off him; he could feel the breeze against his skin, but he was hot all over, burning.
Everything was aching need and sweet promise of fulfillment. Heat. Stroke. Touch. Fire.
When he came, it was in waves of pleasure so intense he cried out, fell back, collapsed, legs beneath him, in the grass. The earth tilted swiftly, and he called out for his lover.
"I’m here, baby, I’m here." Face was hovering above him, then, smoothing back his hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead with gentle hands.
Murdock didn’t open his eyes. Just reached out and grabbed onto Face, clutching the cloth of his tunic, pulling him down on top of him.
The weight of him felt so good. Grounded him.
Face was sprawled across his chest like a warm, living blanket, breathing comfort.
The walk through the woods and the wine and the sweet, sweet coming and the soft caress of Face’s breath combined and pushed Murdock into sleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Will da Aquamaniac strike again, General?" BA lifted the gleaming steel helmet, with its grand red plume, gently off Hannibal’s head and set it aside.
"There is always war, Barac."
The small room was steamy and warm. Water burbled softly in the Roman bath. Invitingly. The camera moved around them on a makeshift dolly, zooming in as BA unbuckled the heavy armor and lifted it from Hannibal’s chest.
"Surely, General, we fight fo’ peace." The tunic was next.
Hannibal sucked in his breath when BA’s warm hands closed on his shoulders, pulled away the leather sheath that had protected his skin from the armor’s sharp bite.
The camera caught the scars, lingered. BA traced Hannibal’s bare chest with his eyes. The scars there were not from the make-up department. He could tell the story of each of them, the whens and wheres. How much they hurt him and how much he tried to hide that from his men.
Hannibal stood tall as BA pulled off his boots, unbuckled the greaves that had protected his lower legs. "We were made for war, Barac. Perhaps we are a violent people. There is no peace for soldiers." He sighed. "Just moments of happiness, captured like prisoners, held, then gone again."
Hannibal lowered himself carefully into the swirling depths. BA followed, the white material of his toga clinging to his dark skin as it touched the water. He picked up a cloth and drew it gently across Hannibal’s broad, pale back.
"Mebbe this one o’ those moments, General…"
BA’s touch felt electric to Hannibal, conductive. He shivered.
"Cut!" the Director called out. "Print it! That’s the one. All right, let’s wrap it up, everybody and get some lunch. We’re back at… hey Terri, what time? Okay, back at four, everybody, for the big fight scene finale. Got it? Good job, guys."
Hannibal and BA didn’t move. They were in opposite corners of the Roman bath, now. Still. Staring at each other, drinking in each other’s gaze. The film crew moved around them, but they’d be alone together in a few moments. For now, they waited. Anticipating.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Murdock awoke to strawberry kisses.
He licked his lips, tasted Face behind the sweet syrup, and kissed back.
After a suitable interval, he opened his eyes and sat up.
Face was sitting beside him, and their whole picnic was spread out on a checkered red and white cloth.
Murdock smiled. Life was good.
Face leaned over and fed him another strawberry. Murdock licked the sticky red juice from his fingers, then sucked on them, getting every last bit of sweetness. Face moaned. "Mmmmmm, Murdock, that feels good." "Just the beginning, muchacho. Here, lay down. You been doin’ all the work, makin’ me feel good, makin’ our picnic all nice an’ everything."
Face settled obediently down on the grass, propping his head up on his hand. "All that work made me real hungry, Murdock."
Face looked Murdock over. He looked so good, long loose limbs sprawled on the grass that way. Soft, dark chest hair revealed by the white cut of the toga.
Murdock grinned. Facey was so beautiful. It still amazed Murdock when Face looked at him that way, like he was beautiful too.
Murdock assessed their provisions. It appeared that they had an entire deli’s worth of food spread across their table cloth. He decided he’d better start with some real food, if Face was going to have the energy to keep up with him this afternoon. He tore a hunk of bread off the long, narrow loaf and spread some soft brie over it. When Face reached for it, Murdock batted his hand away.
"No way, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, now." He lifted the bread to Face’s lips and held it carefully while he bit off a piece. Then he found some grapes. Someone, whoever the basket had been made up for, probably, must have had a fruit fetish. There was all kinds of fruit.
Murdock lifted the bunch of green grapes in the air. Face turned his head and nibbled a few. Murdock reached in to taste their sweetness on his lips.
"You taste so sweet, Facey."
"It’s the fruit, silly."
Murdock shook his head, then kissed Face again, letting his tongue linger in Face’s sweet mouth. He sucked on Face’s lip just a little, then shook his head again.
"’s you, baby. Sweet as clover honey and dandelion wine."
Face laughed. There were little flowers in the grass, not daisies, but something like them. He plucked one of the homey white flowers and tucked it carefully over one of Murdock’s ears.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They were alone. The small room was filled with heat and steam and desire. Hannibal and BA stared at each other.
"How long, Sergeant?"
BA shook his head. "Long time."
Hannibal stared down into the swirling water. "Why didn’t I see it?"
"Too busy lookin’ at Faceman."
Hannibal grinned crookedly at the water, then lifted his eyes to meet BA’s. "I’m not looking at him now."
BA shook his head again.
Hannibal let his eyes wander down BA’s strong arms, his broad, muscular chest, those barrel legs. "Now I’m seeing you. Only you." He grinned, and the light was in his eyes, now, the jazz. "And I think I’d like to see more of you, BA. What would you say to me undressing you this time?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Face nibbled Greek olives off Murdock’s fingers and sighed happily when Murdock licked a stray trickle of brine off the corner of his mouth.
He was discovering that it’s very fun to play with your food, especially when you’re having lunch with someone as creative as Murdock.
Face felt himself being pushed back onto his back again. He watched as Murdock pulled his knife out of his pocket. It was a Swiss army knife; Face had gotten it for him for his last birthday. It had all the best gadgets, even a compass, set in the side.
Murdock carefully lifted out a blade. It glittered in the sunlight.
"Now what are you doing, Murdock?" Face asked lazily.
"Makin’ dessert, Faceman. You want some dessert?"
"I thought you were dessert." Face reached for Murdock’s hand and kissed the palm, then the pulse on his wrist. He licked the back of Murdock’s hand, then sucked on his finger. "You still taste like olives, though…"
Murdock pushed him back down to the grass. "Not for long, Facey. I’m gonna make us a fruit salad. And you gonna be the plate."
Face put his hands beneath his head and watched a cloud roll by on a fast wind.
Murdock carefully peeled a firm, ripe kiwi and dropped a few slices onto Face’s chest. They glistened there, all green and tasty looking. He leaned over and closed his lips over one of the pieces.
Face gasped as Murdock licked and sucked at the firm bud on his sensitive chest. He could feel little sparks shoot through him. His cock stiffened and began to ache deliciously for Murdock’s touch.
"Little… lower… ohhhh…." Face moaned as Murdock sat up again. "Murdock! Get back here!"
"No whining, Facey. ‘s my turn, an’ I’m gonna make it last all day long."
Murdock sliced into the dripping, sweet flesh of a mango and dropped little pieces in a row down Face’s thigh. He let Face suck the juice off his fingers as he licked his way up Face’s leg. Face lifted his hips up toward Murdock, but Murdock just pushed him down and reached for some more fruit. Passion fruit.
Face moaned. He was so hard it hurt. He needed Murdock badly. He wanted him in the worst way. "Please…"
Murdock grinned happily. His lover was writhing on the ground, now, eyes closed, lips just slightly open, a hot, wanton look on his beautiful face. Arms and legs sprawled, golden skin flushed. Wanting it. Wanting him.
Murdock lifted the edge of Face’s white toga to reveal his beautiful, hard cock. Face moaned again as the fabric teased him, lifted his hips pleadingly toward his lover.
Murdock let little pieces of passion fruit and mango and kiwi and strawberry fall from his knife down onto Face’s cock and balls. Then he wiped his knife on a napkin and put it away. He ran his hand across Face’s lips, and Face licked at it desperately, wanting. Murdock kissed him and Face’s need became his own, passed on through breath and tongue.
Murdock broke the kiss with an effort. He could kiss Face forever and be happy, but now, he was going to make Face happy. Real happy.
He laid down on Face’s legs, pinning them to the ground. He could feel Face moving under him, and it excited him.
He let his lips trace the trail of fruit and sweet juice up Face’s thigh. His mouth lingered on Face’s balls, tongue gently lapping at them.
Face was panting, now, and making little whimpering sounds. He pushed up toward Murdock hard, trying desperately to get closer to him.
Finally, Murdock took Face’s cock in his mouth.
"God, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, God…"
Murdock breathed in Face’s musky scent, tasted the sweet paradise of his cock, salt sweet. He opened his throat to him, and grabbed onto his ass, pulling him in closer even as Face struggled to get closer, deeper.
Murdock felt Face’s cock swell, felt the sweet, heavy cum course through him, tasted it in his throat and swallowed.
Face hadn’t made a sound, so when Murdock had finished licking him clean, he crawled up beside him.
"You okay, baby?"
Face let out a breath and smiled up at Murdock with such love and trust and sated happiness that Murdock felt tears well up in his eyes.
Face couldn’t speak. He was overwhelmed. So he just pulled Murdock to him, kissed his forehead, and held him tight.
Murdock rested his head on Face’s shoulder. Face’s arms were around him and their legs were
comfortably tangled. Touch close. If he could always be this close. Always hear Face’s heartbeat under
his ear, taste his sweetness on his lips, smell his honey breath, feel his warm, smooth skin. See his smile.
If he could always be with Face, he would be happy.
He snuggled closer.
Always would start today.