Title: Waking
Copyright: 2001
Author: emmastark
Rated:
NC-17
Disclaimer: All
original TAT characters belong to Stephen J. Cannell and Universal.
Warning: Slash
Comments: Please
Summary: Waking
up in another dingy motel room. But together.
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Waking
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The small motel room smelled like women’s perfume. Emeraude,
specifically. As if a woman, hurrying
to dress (and get back to what? her job? her husband? Her trip alone down
highway 66 in the warm, early fall?) had spilled some on the battered gray
carpet. Emeraude, with a touch of that
kind of cigarette Murdock used to smoke, back during the war. Marlboros.
Face smiled. Turned
over.
There was just enough light creeping through the curtains
for him to make out lips, slightly parted, nose and cheek and forehead. Brow knitted in sleep, making Murdock look
more serious than he usually did, waking.
Face reached out and stroked his fingers along Murdock’s forehead,
trying to smooth his anxious dreams.
They’d opted for a single room that night.
Hannibal and BA slept soundly in the queen-sized bed, next
to their narrower one. He could pick
out their breathing. The fall flowers
(something with bright yellow blossoms that bloomed along the side of the highway)
had been bothering BA’s sinuses, and his breath came heavy and slow. Hannibal’s breath was even and soft in
counterpoint.
Alone, but not alone.
Face stuck his hand under the covers anyway.
Murdock was naked.
They both were. It had been hot,
the night before. Stuffy in the small,
anonymous room.
The sheets were cool, now.
But Murdock’s hip felt smooth and warm, the hipbone, and the hollow of
the hip. The place where the shock of
thick, dark hair began was warmer still.
Murdock’s cock was half-hard, even in his sleep. Face smiled as he touched it gently.
Morning wood.
One of the soldiers, black soldiers, he’d met at boot camp
had called it that. Morning wood. Standing, cock erect in the cold morning
shower, washing himself with hard white soap.
Face had blushed, feeling very exposed and vulnerable without his
hair. The guy had grinned at him and
chuckled.
Face traced the smooth, hot skin of Murdock’s cock. The soft, sensitive skin of the head of
it. The underside, which so liked
stroking.
Murdock sighed softly, between sleeping and waking, and the
corners of his mouth turned up as Face fondled his balls gently.
After a long moment, Murdock opened his eyes, blinking sleep
away. Scootched forward, into Face’s
arms, for a soft, sweet, close-mouthed morning kiss.
Face loved it when Murdock grinned and kissed him at the
same time.
Murdock rested his head on Face’s pillow, and Face stroked
his cock more firmly. It grew harder.
Heat radiated between them, their own shared heat in the
chill, early morning air.
Accentuate the downstroke.
Gentle on the upstroke. Murdock’s cock darkened. A small network of blood vessels rose on its
smooth surface, beneath the skin. (Sometimes
he traced those with his tongue.) Accentuate
the downstroke.
Murdock moaned, deep in his throat.
Quiet. Had to be
silent. Hannibal and BA breathed softly,
sleeping in the next bed, a few feet away.
Murdock grabbed onto Face’s shoulder hard with one hand and
put the other over his mouth. Breathed
hard through his nose, writhing against the sheets. Knees tenting the covers below, cock (and Face’s hand, moving
against it) tenting them higher up.
Smooth, firm, gentle strokes. Even. Not too fast.
That familiar rush of building fluid at the base of Murdock’s
cock.
Face eased off fractionally and watched it happen. First
that rush, then the eyes roll back.
Murdock gasped. Then his cock
jerked in Face’s hand.
Face smiled as a small geyser of hot cum spilled over into
his palm, under the covers. He left his
hand where it was for a moment, just holding Murdock’s cock as it
softened. Moving or squeezing or
stroking would have been too much. He
just held on. Loving the cooling
wetness on his fingers, the faint scent of Murdock’s sex (over Emeraude and
cigarettes), the sound of Murdock’s breathing, faster, coming back to slow.
Murdock grinned again.
Reached back and snagged a handful of tissues off the night table. Lifted the blankets back and wiped himself
off. Carefully cleaned off Face’s hand
~ his wrist, his palm, the places between his fingers. Dropped the tissues over the far side of the
bed.
Murdock lifted Face’s hand up, then, that same hand, and
kissed it. Dropped four random kisses
on Face’s chest, and laid his head down there.
He reached his hand down and grabbed onto Face’s thigh possessively before
easing back into sleep. The back of his
hand rested against the underside of Face’s balls.
Face stroked himself slowly. Careful not to dislodge Murdock’s hold on him.
Morning wood, he thought.
Morning would always be nicer with Murdock in his arms.
He smiled a happy, secret smile.
After awhile, he came (Murdock’s half-waking fingers stroking
his inner thigh and brushing against his balls, squeezing the base of his
cock).
They slept together, then.
Woke later, with the guys, when the sun was up in earnest, sated and
satisfied in each other’s arms.
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~fin~