'Reinventing the Rule Book' for stackcats
Merry Christmas, stackcats!
Title: Reinventing the Rule Book
Author: ???
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hannibal/Face
Word Count: 4,561
Summary: Set after the end of the 2010 movie. First time H/F. Beta’d by the incomparable lambofcurl101th
A fake heart attack en route to their destination seemed too simple, too obvious; the guards escorting them shouldn’t have fallen for it. Christ, didn’t they know who they were dealing with, how their team operated? Had no one briefed these kids? And they were just kids: not one of them looked a day over twenty-five. When they banged on the wall of the vehicle and hollered for assistance, it pulled up. Shortly after, the door at the back swung open. While the rest of them shouted and pretended to be alarmed, Hannibal slumped forward in his seat feigning unconsciousness. One of the guards clambered into the back of the vehicle to check on him. His companion kept the team covered, and they were supposed to be handcuffed. Even so, it was almost embarrassingly easy for Face to take possession of his sidearm, sliding an arm around the man’s throat, cutting off his air supply, angling the man’s body so his companion outside was unable to get off a clear shot. It didn’t take Face long to convince the other guard that he was prepared to shoot him and his friend if he didn’t hand over his weapon too. Wide-eyed, the guard surrendered it. The remaining guard was then hauled out of the vehicle’s cab at gun point.
They handcuffed the unhappy trio to a tree. After destroying the GPS they drove to a prearranged destination, where a vehicle loaded with supplies was waiting for them.
BA scowled. “You knew they were gonna double cross us?”
Hannibal and Face exchanged glances. “No,” said Face quickly. “I mean, not really. I just didn’t want us to be left without a way out if they did burn us again. I thought I’d anticipated pretty much every outcome, but Pike nearly screwed up everything,” Face admitted.
“You should have told us, man,” said BA.
Murdock watched this by-play silently, waiting on Face for an answer. However, it was Hannibal who responded. “It was my decision, BA. You were struggling with your own demons. And Murdock’s role required every bit of his focus. I didn’t think it would be of benefit to either of you to know that we had a back up plan in place in case of failure. When Face came to me and asked me what I thought, that’s what I told him. And while it may have been his plan, gentlemen, I’m the commanding officer of this unit and those decisions are mine to make.”
BA’s scowl remained in place, but he gave a grunt of acknowledgement as he accepted the keys from Face and climbed into the driver’s seat. Hannibal took the passenger side, Murdock and Face got into the back. Their destination was an abandoned warehouse, similar to the one they’d narrowly escaped death in when it had been blown sky high by Lynch’s men. It was cold, damp and partially exposed to the elements; however, it did provide some shelter, and it was secluded and large enough to conceal the car from any searching aircraft. BA and Murdock bickered as they unrolled their sleeping bags. BA moaned about the likelihood of rats, while Murdock talked in an excited whisper about the chances of the surrounding forest being inhabited by Big Foot. Too wired to sleep, Face volunteered for first watch. After several hours BA relieved him.
“Hannibal was probably right,” said BA quietly as he took up Face’s position, “I had enough going on in my head. I didn’t need those kinds of doubts crowding in on me too.”
Face responded with a brief flicker of a smile and a nod.
“It was a good plan,” BA added, as Face headed for the stairs. “No way could you have known Pike was going to pull a crazy stunt like that.”
Face paused on the second step. His mouth twisted unhappily. “Hannibal would have.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” argued BA reasonably. “He would have spoken out if he’d thought that Pike was going to fuck things up. Hannibal’s good, but the man’s got flaws, same as you and me. I did six months because he couldn’t see that Morrison wasn’t on the level. And maybe I nearly died because you hadn’t counted on Pike blowing a hole in the boat,” BA shrugged. “The way I see it, you and Hannibal have saved my life more times than I want to count, which makes you ahead on points. So, how about you cut yourself some slack.”
Not altogether convinced by BA’s argument, Face nevertheless managed a grateful smile. Leaving his friend on watch, he continued up the stairs. The floor and all four walls of the next level were mostly intact, but the night sky with its full moon could be viewed at regular intervals through various broken sections of roof. Face could see his breath with every exhalation. He shivered and sat on his sleeping bag to unfasten his boots. Over to his left, some distance from him, Murdock had constructed a small fortress of crates and packaging, the pilot’s baseball cap and a small section of sleeping bag all that was visible. Face set his boots down beside his bag, keeping them and his appropriated firearm within easy reach. They’d taken whatever they thought they could use from the guards’ transportation; in addition, Charisa had supplied them with a vehicle, food, clothing, and sleeping bags. Face knew he could have asked for more, and she would probably have provided it, but Face didn’t want her risking herself more than she already had. It had taken him a long time to accept that things couldn’t work between them. For now he’d given her Lynch, and she’d assisted in their escape. Face thought that counted as a major step toward rebuilding their friendship, and he thought perhaps he wanted that. He was still drawn to her, but a bitter break up, three years separation, and a series of events - culminating in six months incarceration - had encouraged Face to take a long hard look at what he really wanted.
Stretching out inside his sleeping bag as best he could, Face folded his arms behind his head and stared up through a gap in the rafters. Above him was a velvet sky of deepest blue, strewn with stars too numerous to count. He lost himself for a moment in the vastness of it all, and so he was startled when a voice spoke somewhere over to his right.
“Can’t sleep, kid?”
Face glared at the point where the moon and starlight picked out Hannibal’s outline. “Jesus, Hannibal. I thought you and Murdock were asleep. I don’t need any more years knocking off my final tally, okay? I think I’ve lost enough these past few months.”
“It’s not like you to be so easily rattled, Lieutenant,” said Hannibal, amusement colouring his voice.
“I wasn’t,” Face denied. “I was just thinking.” He glanced over at Murdock. “Is he asleep?”
“Well, he stopped talking about Big Foot around twenty minutes ago, so my guess is, yes.”
Face rolled onto his side toward Hannibal. He spoke softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “BA thinks I should ease up on myself. He said the plan was good and I couldn’t have predicted Pike.” He was angry at himself for needing the reassurance, but although BA’s words had helped, Face wanted to hear from Hannibal that he hadn’t screwed up.
“Pike was impulsive and sloppy. He disliked planning ahead and never thought his actions through in detail. That made him unpredictable. Occasionally, that worked in his favour. Ultimately, it caused his death,” said Hannibal. “I think BA’s right. Your plan was sound, Face. There was no way to factor Pike into the equation. What’s important is you didn’t let things snowball when the plan started to go wrong. You kept your head. You allowed the plan to become fluid. You kept your team informed, and you made sure the net stayed nice and tight around Lynch. Maybe the outcome was a little messy; it achieved the desired result.”
Face had to argue with that. “We’re still wanted men.”
“We got the plates back - something that was vital for the security of our country. It didn’t betray us, Lieutenant. The men that did are either dead or facing prison. And there will be others who may have harboured doubts as to our innocence, who will now know that we spoke the truth.”
“I don’t know, Hannibal. Every law enforcement agency in the country is going to be hunting for us. The CIA has a vested interest in seeing us locked up again as quickly and as quietly as possible, and I’m thinking this time it’ll be until everyone involved has retired on a nice fat pension. I honestly don’t see how we can make this work.”
“Trust me, kid. I’ll make it work.”
Without stopping to reconsider the wisdom of what he was about to do, Face shuffled close enough to be able to discern Hannibal’s features in the moonlight. Face’s eyes had adjusted to the available illumination and he observed Hannibal’s expression. It was outwardly calm, a match for Hannibal’s words and tone. But Face saw something else. Something that had always been there, something neither of them had ever acknowledged. Face had been prepared for that to remain the case. For while Hannibal might have been willing to overlook certain aspects of military doctrine, he could also be relied upon not to act in a manner that could be construed as an abuse of his authority, or in any way that might disrupt the harmony of his team. Face knew this. However, they might address each other by rank and carry out operations with military precision, the fact remained they were civilians now. His mind made up, Face forced himself to ignore the doubts that threatened to paralyze him. Reaching out, he curled his fingers around the nape of Hannibal’s neck. Face moved quickly, fearful of giving Hannibal the opportunity to formulate an objection. Face cut off the man’s startled, uneasy exhalation by the simple action of placing his mouth over Hannibal’s. He encountered a momentary stumbling block that took the form of token resistance. Thankfully, it crumbled almost in the same breath.
Hannibal scrambled free of his sleeping bag, pushed Face onto his back, and all but crawled on top of him. “We shouldn’t do this,” he protested hoarsely.
“Stop talking,” Face muttered. “We’re doing this,” he added, keeping a decisive grip on Hannibal. Not that he needed to. Hannibal was holding onto him as though he expected Face to be the one to try to get away.
“I’m your commanding officer.” If that was supposed to represent an argument against this, it wasn’t sustained by Hannibal’s actions as he finally lost patience with Face’s shirt. Buttons flew across the floor and rolled away into the shadows.
Face gasped as Hannibal used his teeth on the skin over his collar bone and then lathed the reddened area with his tongue to soothe it. “Fuck, Hannibal, I... Christ... Stop... I can’t think when you’re doing that.” Hannibal stopped and raised his head to look at Face. Face regarded him closely, willing him to heed what he had to say. “You know damn well I’d follow you anywhere. And that won’t ever change. But there are no rules stopping us now. We get to decide how this works from here on out.”
“And how’s that?” asked Hannibal.
The way he was looking at Face made it hard to concentrate. Face shut his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. He re-opened them quickly. He didn’t want to risk losing the momentum. He didn’t want to give Hannibal time to come up with any reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this. “I don’t care what any fucking military court says, you’re my Colonel and as your Lieutenant, I’ll follow your orders. But when we’re off the clock it’s just us, no rank, no regulations...” Face felt the rest of his speech dry up in his mouth as Hannibal began to shake his head. Tightness constricted his chest, making it hard to breathe. Hannibal was talking, but Face couldn’t hear anything other than the hammering of his own heart against his rib cage.
“Face? Dammit, kid. Snap out of it and listen to me. I’m not saying no.”
“You’re not?” Face thought it was understandable if his voice shook a little. His cock was still hard and decidedly unhappy about the delay in proceedings. Meanwhile his heart felt like it had been put into a vice. Calloused fingers stroked his side, making him skip a breath. “If you’re saying yes, then why the fuck are you shaking your head?” he demanded, his temper flaring.
“Oh, we’re going to do this,” said Hannibal, “but you’re not calling all the shots here, kid.”
That was when Face finally caught the playful glint in Hannibal’s eye. “Let me guess, you want me to call you Boss in bed?” he asked, only half teasing.
The sound Hannibal made was akin to a growl as he moved his hands to grip Face’s wrists. “I’ll settle for you following orders in it now and then, soldier.”
Face’s cock twitched appreciatively at the idea. He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “Okay, I can do that,” he agreed.
“I don’t want this if you’re not one hundred percent on board,” said Hannibal, his expression cautious. The hard cock nudging Face told another story.
“I want it,” Face assured him. He went pliant and watched Hannibal carefully for his reaction. It didn’t disappoint. Face glimpsed something raw and almost desperate in Hannibal’s expression. Then he was being kissed.
“You drive me crazy,” Hannibal murmured against his mouth.
“Yeah, but you still want me, right?” said Face, trying to match the earlier playfulness. It didn’t come out as confident sounding as he would have liked. He couldn’t quite prevent a needy edge creeping into his voice. Face wanted to hear from Hannibal that they were on the same page. Hannibal’s soft huff of laughter ghosted over his skin. Face tensed before relaxing at the words that followed.
“I think we both know the answer to that. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. But you’re right, we’re not bound by their rules any more. It’s time to make some of our own. The first is this - I don’t share. You can play the game in public: bat those baby blues and exercise that charm - but you come home to me. No exceptions. The second is we clear this with BA and Murdock.” Hannibal placed a gentle kiss on the underside of Face’s jaw, and then a slightly harder one at the junction of his neck and shoulder that made the younger man breathe in sharply. “I won’t give you up,” Hannibal told him quietly, “but we’re a team first and foremost, and we need to maintain a balance. If we’re going to operate in the way we discussed, we need to stay focused when we’re working. No special favours. No unnecessary risks. Keep it professional on the job. Can you do that?”
Face knew what Hannibal was asking. Back on the freighter they had discussed what avenues were available to them if their hope of being reinstated in the army didn’t pan out. The proposal that they should become soldiers for hire was one that they still had to discuss with Murdock and BA, but they didn’t envision either man being adverse to the idea. But if he and Hannibal were really going to go forward with this, Face knew that he had to be able to separate Hannibal his lover from Hannibal his commanding officer. He honestly didn’t foresee it being a problem. He’d been heavily invested in this man’s well-being for a long time. Face couldn’t see that entering into the physical side of things was going to affect his powerful desire to keep Hannibal whole and safe one way or the other. He would lay down his life for Hannibal in a heartbeat if that was what it took, but Face knew he would do the same for Bosco and Murdock. His professional detachment wasn’t going to be affected by this, since where these guys were concerned, he had none. Therefore, Face was able to nod and swear that he would be one hundred percent professional when they were on a job.
“So, how do you want to do this?” he asked, a touch breathlessly since Hannibal had relinquished his grip on his wrists to stroke the skin beneath his shirt.
“I want it all, kid. Are you ready to give me that?”
Face swallowed around the sudden nervous lump that had formed in his throat. He told himself that he was being ridiculous. He knew what he was doing; this was hardly virgin territory for him. Except this was Hannibal, and that was new. Apparently, his deep-rooted desire to avoid disappointing this man incorporated a lot of ground. “Whatever you want,” Face agreed, unable to think beyond that.
“How about you tell me what you want,” said Hannibal. His thumb was stroking a maddening pattern over Face’s hip bone, and Face’s thoughts scattered like confetti, along with his ability to form coherent speech.
“You. Anything. Everything,” Face babbled.
“Everything?” Hannibal’s husky voice carried a note of amusement. “Hmm, I think we can work with that.” Face felt abruptly cold as Hannibal pulled away. He didn’t go far, rummaging in his kit bag and taking out a small container that must have come from the guards’ medical kit. At least, Face hoped to hell that Charisa hadn’t included it. Hannibal unscrewed the lid and set it down on the floor beside them. “You been careful, kid?”
Face didn’t pretend that he didn’t understand what Hannibal was asking. He nodded mutely, his voice failing him. Hannibal kissed him again, hands stroking Face’s chest possessively.
“Turn over,” Hannibal instructed softly.
The lower part of Face’s legs were still restrained by the material of his sleeping bag, and there was a brief, frustrating interlude before the zipper was drawn down and he wriggled free. Hannibal stripped him of his pants and underwear, but settled for pushing up Face’s shirt and completely ignored Face’s sock-clad feet. Given the temperature of their surroundings, Face didn’t mind, though it didn’t prevent him from feeling as exposed as if he had been completely naked, stretched out on top of his sleeping bag for Hannibal’s perusal. Face had been the subject of intimate scrutiny before, but Hannibal’s gaze was different. Face could almost feel it gliding over his skin, like a physical touch. The moonlight that had seemed so innocuous now had the harsh, isolating glare of a spotlight. Hannibal’s hands traced Face’s spine, following it slowly downward to cup the swell of his ass, eliciting a moan. Face sank his teeth into his lip to try and contain any further noises. It was beyond nuts doing this with Murdock sleeping only yards away, and Bosco awake and listening downstairs, but Face couldn’t find it in him to care as Hannibal’s fingers delved into the crease of his ass, displaying none of the hesitancy or nervousness that Face felt.
Hannibal stopped touching him to reach for the container of Vaseline. Face had known that Hannibal was talking, but with the older man’s hands on him, Face had found it difficult to focus on the words. Now he could concentrate on what Hannibal was saying.
“…God, look at you. So fucking gorgeous. I can’t believe I can touch you now. All those years trying to keep my hands off you… so damn hard… can’t believe you’re mine now. God, you’re finally mine.” Hannibal sounded as though he still didn’t quite believe it.
Used to compliments, Face nevertheless felt a heated flush steal across his skin. Turning his head, he pressed his hot cheek against the cool metal zipper of his sleeping bag. Vaseline coated fingers slipped between the cheeks of his ass and he gasped.
“Cold?”
“No… God… that feels…” Face’s voice trailed off into an appreciative moan as fingers stroked over his opening.
Hannibal chuckled softly. “Like that, do we?” Face responded by lifting his hips and pushing back into Hannibal’s touch, trying to get at least one of those teasing fingers inside him. “Impatient brat,” said Hannibal. All the same, he responded by nudging a finger past the tight ring of muscle, sliding it in to the third knuckle. Face made a soft choked sound and tried to rise up onto his knees. The weight of Hannibal’s hand on his back guided him back down onto the sleeping bag. “Ssh. Easy,” Hannibal soothed, “we don’t want to alert the Captain.”
Face didn’t care if Murdock wanted a ring side seat, and murmured his approval as a second Vaseline coated finger joined the first. It had been a while since he’d last done this, and Hannibal’s efforts met with some resistance, despite Face’s eagerness. Fortunately, Face’s body quickly remembered its part in the proceedings, and a third finger slid in more easily. At the same time it evidently hadn’t escaped Hannibal’s notice that Face was hardly a novice.
Hannibal leaned in low to whisper in Face’s ear. “No one else touches you like this,” uttered Hannibal fiercely. “Never again. Promise me.” He crooked his fingers inside Face’s body, and the younger man shuddered.
“I promise,” Face gasped out. “Christ. Yes. I promise. No one but you. No one else. Hannibal, please. I need you to fuck me.” Even Hannibal’s lauded self control had its limitations it seemed, as he hastily withdrew his fingers. Then his cock was pushing in, the Vaseline barely adequate. Face tried to relax, willing his body to allow the intrusion. He wanted this. Even so, it was almost too much. Face closed his eyes, colours merging behind his lids as Hannibal finally stopped; his body a warm weight against Face’s back. Face shifted slightly, he heard Hannibal groan.
“Kid, don’t move... I can’t. Not yet.”
Face went still and waited, Hannibal’s cock a welcome ache deep within his body, his ragged breaths loud by Face’s ear. Face waited, until the desire for more became unbearable, and he felt that he had to move or fly apart. “Hannibal, please,” he whispered, begging. Hannibal began to thrust; teasingly slow at first, clearly savouring the younger man’s corresponding soft cries. Face opened his eyes and glanced across at Murdock’s crate fortress. Struck anew by the insanity of the situation, Face was still unable to bring himself to care, not while Hannibal was using him to slake his pleasure and no barrier between them. Face struggled to stifle the sounds that might otherwise alert his friends, pressing his knuckles to his lips. Hannibal muted his own voice against Face’s skin, harsh kisses that veered closer to bites. Unable to lie prone any longer, Face rose up onto his knees and forearms; this time Hannibal didn’t try to make him stay down. His efforts changed the angle of Hannibal’s thrusts, and Face would have collapsed back onto his sleeping bag had it not been for the hands that held him. Face regained his equilibrium, and Hannibal’s hands moved to his hips, gripping them so firmly Face knew there was certain to be the dark smudges of bruises on his skin come morning. The thought sent a sharp thrill through him. Face clenched his muscles and heard Hannibal hiss, the rhythm of his strokes faltering.
As Hannibal abandoned all pretence at restraint, Face pushed back, trying to take Hannibal in deeper. Hannibal responded by reaching around to fist Face’s cock, gun calluses dragging on sensitive flesh, causing shudders of pleasure. When he came, it was with a suddenness that made his breath catch. Face tried to hold himself up, but his trembling muscles were rapidly losing motor control. Hearing Hannibal’s choked groan, Face let himself sink downward. Hannibal continued to thrust, slickly and more gently, until he was spent. Face suppressed a wince, biting his lip to withhold any indication of discomfort when Hannibal withdrew, leaving behind a dull ache and an odd, unfamiliar sensation of stickiness. Despite this, Face felt gloriously wrung out and well-used. He rolled - rather gingerly - onto his side, suppressing another wince. Face wanted to touch himself, slide his fingers through the slow dribble of cum escaping from his body. Something in Hannibal’s gaze told him to wait. A hand stroked Face’s thigh, nonchalantly at first, then with fresh purpose, wandering over Face’s hip to stroke his ass. Hannibal moved closer, until they were virtually sharing the same breath. Face’s eyes never left Hannibal’s as a single finger slipped inside his body: its passage eased by Vaseline and cum. Face’s hips jerked reflexively.
“Too much?” asked Hannibal gently, pausing in what he was doing. Face shook his head wordlessly, and Hannibal resumed, rocking his finger back and forth gently, teasing Face’s slick, swollen hole.
Face closed his eyes and let his head rest forward on Hannibal, breathing in the scent of cigars and sex. Hannibal’s exploratory touch was, in a strange way, more intimate than anything they had just done. It was slow and deliberate, possessive and claiming. Face thought about what Hannibal had to be feeling - his stretched, tender hole, flooded with cum. Face felt branded by it. Owned. He belonged utterly to Hannibal now. Face dropped a heartfelt kiss onto Hannibal’s skin. Hannibal’s finger withdrew and he tilted Face’s lips towards his own. They stayed that way until the chill of the room became too much. Then they hurriedly resumed articles of clothing and climbed back into their respective sleeping bags, lying close enough to interlace their hands. Face directed an uneasy glance toward Murdock. “What if they-”
“They’ll be fine with it,” Hannibal reassured him.
“Yeah, it’s fine with me,” drawled a sleep fuddled voice. “How ‘bout you, BA?” Murdock called down the stairs, barely raising his voice above normal volume.
BA responded in the same low tone. “I think you’re all crazy, but yeah, I’m good. Now will you go to sleep, so I can stop trying not to listen to the sounds I’m not supposed to be listening to, and let me listen for the stuff I might actually need to hear.”
Face didn’t know whether to be relieved to see his mortification reflected back at him in Hannibal’s expression. Then Hannibal laughed, and Face sniggered. This was actually going to work. The life they’d known might have been brutally and wrongfully ripped away from them, but it looked like this one would ultimately be their salvation. “I love you,” he whispered softly - fearlessly. The look in Hannibal’s eyes told Face it had been the right thing to say.
A fervent, “I love you too,” was murmured against Face’s lips. They exchanged further languid kisses until exhaustion overtook them, and the silence BA had asked for finally fell.
Murdock smiled and tugged his cap down over his eyes. BA waited and listened, relaxing with a smile of his own. Yeah, it was all good.
Title: Reinventing the Rule Book
Author: ???
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hannibal/Face
Word Count: 4,561
Summary: Set after the end of the 2010 movie. First time H/F. Beta’d by the incomparable lambofcurl101th
A fake heart attack en route to their destination seemed too simple, too obvious; the guards escorting them shouldn’t have fallen for it. Christ, didn’t they know who they were dealing with, how their team operated? Had no one briefed these kids? And they were just kids: not one of them looked a day over twenty-five. When they banged on the wall of the vehicle and hollered for assistance, it pulled up. Shortly after, the door at the back swung open. While the rest of them shouted and pretended to be alarmed, Hannibal slumped forward in his seat feigning unconsciousness. One of the guards clambered into the back of the vehicle to check on him. His companion kept the team covered, and they were supposed to be handcuffed. Even so, it was almost embarrassingly easy for Face to take possession of his sidearm, sliding an arm around the man’s throat, cutting off his air supply, angling the man’s body so his companion outside was unable to get off a clear shot. It didn’t take Face long to convince the other guard that he was prepared to shoot him and his friend if he didn’t hand over his weapon too. Wide-eyed, the guard surrendered it. The remaining guard was then hauled out of the vehicle’s cab at gun point.
They handcuffed the unhappy trio to a tree. After destroying the GPS they drove to a prearranged destination, where a vehicle loaded with supplies was waiting for them.
BA scowled. “You knew they were gonna double cross us?”
Hannibal and Face exchanged glances. “No,” said Face quickly. “I mean, not really. I just didn’t want us to be left without a way out if they did burn us again. I thought I’d anticipated pretty much every outcome, but Pike nearly screwed up everything,” Face admitted.
“You should have told us, man,” said BA.
Murdock watched this by-play silently, waiting on Face for an answer. However, it was Hannibal who responded. “It was my decision, BA. You were struggling with your own demons. And Murdock’s role required every bit of his focus. I didn’t think it would be of benefit to either of you to know that we had a back up plan in place in case of failure. When Face came to me and asked me what I thought, that’s what I told him. And while it may have been his plan, gentlemen, I’m the commanding officer of this unit and those decisions are mine to make.”
BA’s scowl remained in place, but he gave a grunt of acknowledgement as he accepted the keys from Face and climbed into the driver’s seat. Hannibal took the passenger side, Murdock and Face got into the back. Their destination was an abandoned warehouse, similar to the one they’d narrowly escaped death in when it had been blown sky high by Lynch’s men. It was cold, damp and partially exposed to the elements; however, it did provide some shelter, and it was secluded and large enough to conceal the car from any searching aircraft. BA and Murdock bickered as they unrolled their sleeping bags. BA moaned about the likelihood of rats, while Murdock talked in an excited whisper about the chances of the surrounding forest being inhabited by Big Foot. Too wired to sleep, Face volunteered for first watch. After several hours BA relieved him.
“Hannibal was probably right,” said BA quietly as he took up Face’s position, “I had enough going on in my head. I didn’t need those kinds of doubts crowding in on me too.”
Face responded with a brief flicker of a smile and a nod.
“It was a good plan,” BA added, as Face headed for the stairs. “No way could you have known Pike was going to pull a crazy stunt like that.”
Face paused on the second step. His mouth twisted unhappily. “Hannibal would have.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” argued BA reasonably. “He would have spoken out if he’d thought that Pike was going to fuck things up. Hannibal’s good, but the man’s got flaws, same as you and me. I did six months because he couldn’t see that Morrison wasn’t on the level. And maybe I nearly died because you hadn’t counted on Pike blowing a hole in the boat,” BA shrugged. “The way I see it, you and Hannibal have saved my life more times than I want to count, which makes you ahead on points. So, how about you cut yourself some slack.”
Not altogether convinced by BA’s argument, Face nevertheless managed a grateful smile. Leaving his friend on watch, he continued up the stairs. The floor and all four walls of the next level were mostly intact, but the night sky with its full moon could be viewed at regular intervals through various broken sections of roof. Face could see his breath with every exhalation. He shivered and sat on his sleeping bag to unfasten his boots. Over to his left, some distance from him, Murdock had constructed a small fortress of crates and packaging, the pilot’s baseball cap and a small section of sleeping bag all that was visible. Face set his boots down beside his bag, keeping them and his appropriated firearm within easy reach. They’d taken whatever they thought they could use from the guards’ transportation; in addition, Charisa had supplied them with a vehicle, food, clothing, and sleeping bags. Face knew he could have asked for more, and she would probably have provided it, but Face didn’t want her risking herself more than she already had. It had taken him a long time to accept that things couldn’t work between them. For now he’d given her Lynch, and she’d assisted in their escape. Face thought that counted as a major step toward rebuilding their friendship, and he thought perhaps he wanted that. He was still drawn to her, but a bitter break up, three years separation, and a series of events - culminating in six months incarceration - had encouraged Face to take a long hard look at what he really wanted.
Stretching out inside his sleeping bag as best he could, Face folded his arms behind his head and stared up through a gap in the rafters. Above him was a velvet sky of deepest blue, strewn with stars too numerous to count. He lost himself for a moment in the vastness of it all, and so he was startled when a voice spoke somewhere over to his right.
“Can’t sleep, kid?”
Face glared at the point where the moon and starlight picked out Hannibal’s outline. “Jesus, Hannibal. I thought you and Murdock were asleep. I don’t need any more years knocking off my final tally, okay? I think I’ve lost enough these past few months.”
“It’s not like you to be so easily rattled, Lieutenant,” said Hannibal, amusement colouring his voice.
“I wasn’t,” Face denied. “I was just thinking.” He glanced over at Murdock. “Is he asleep?”
“Well, he stopped talking about Big Foot around twenty minutes ago, so my guess is, yes.”
Face rolled onto his side toward Hannibal. He spoke softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “BA thinks I should ease up on myself. He said the plan was good and I couldn’t have predicted Pike.” He was angry at himself for needing the reassurance, but although BA’s words had helped, Face wanted to hear from Hannibal that he hadn’t screwed up.
“Pike was impulsive and sloppy. He disliked planning ahead and never thought his actions through in detail. That made him unpredictable. Occasionally, that worked in his favour. Ultimately, it caused his death,” said Hannibal. “I think BA’s right. Your plan was sound, Face. There was no way to factor Pike into the equation. What’s important is you didn’t let things snowball when the plan started to go wrong. You kept your head. You allowed the plan to become fluid. You kept your team informed, and you made sure the net stayed nice and tight around Lynch. Maybe the outcome was a little messy; it achieved the desired result.”
Face had to argue with that. “We’re still wanted men.”
“We got the plates back - something that was vital for the security of our country. It didn’t betray us, Lieutenant. The men that did are either dead or facing prison. And there will be others who may have harboured doubts as to our innocence, who will now know that we spoke the truth.”
“I don’t know, Hannibal. Every law enforcement agency in the country is going to be hunting for us. The CIA has a vested interest in seeing us locked up again as quickly and as quietly as possible, and I’m thinking this time it’ll be until everyone involved has retired on a nice fat pension. I honestly don’t see how we can make this work.”
“Trust me, kid. I’ll make it work.”
Without stopping to reconsider the wisdom of what he was about to do, Face shuffled close enough to be able to discern Hannibal’s features in the moonlight. Face’s eyes had adjusted to the available illumination and he observed Hannibal’s expression. It was outwardly calm, a match for Hannibal’s words and tone. But Face saw something else. Something that had always been there, something neither of them had ever acknowledged. Face had been prepared for that to remain the case. For while Hannibal might have been willing to overlook certain aspects of military doctrine, he could also be relied upon not to act in a manner that could be construed as an abuse of his authority, or in any way that might disrupt the harmony of his team. Face knew this. However, they might address each other by rank and carry out operations with military precision, the fact remained they were civilians now. His mind made up, Face forced himself to ignore the doubts that threatened to paralyze him. Reaching out, he curled his fingers around the nape of Hannibal’s neck. Face moved quickly, fearful of giving Hannibal the opportunity to formulate an objection. Face cut off the man’s startled, uneasy exhalation by the simple action of placing his mouth over Hannibal’s. He encountered a momentary stumbling block that took the form of token resistance. Thankfully, it crumbled almost in the same breath.
Hannibal scrambled free of his sleeping bag, pushed Face onto his back, and all but crawled on top of him. “We shouldn’t do this,” he protested hoarsely.
“Stop talking,” Face muttered. “We’re doing this,” he added, keeping a decisive grip on Hannibal. Not that he needed to. Hannibal was holding onto him as though he expected Face to be the one to try to get away.
“I’m your commanding officer.” If that was supposed to represent an argument against this, it wasn’t sustained by Hannibal’s actions as he finally lost patience with Face’s shirt. Buttons flew across the floor and rolled away into the shadows.
Face gasped as Hannibal used his teeth on the skin over his collar bone and then lathed the reddened area with his tongue to soothe it. “Fuck, Hannibal, I... Christ... Stop... I can’t think when you’re doing that.” Hannibal stopped and raised his head to look at Face. Face regarded him closely, willing him to heed what he had to say. “You know damn well I’d follow you anywhere. And that won’t ever change. But there are no rules stopping us now. We get to decide how this works from here on out.”
“And how’s that?” asked Hannibal.
The way he was looking at Face made it hard to concentrate. Face shut his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. He re-opened them quickly. He didn’t want to risk losing the momentum. He didn’t want to give Hannibal time to come up with any reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this. “I don’t care what any fucking military court says, you’re my Colonel and as your Lieutenant, I’ll follow your orders. But when we’re off the clock it’s just us, no rank, no regulations...” Face felt the rest of his speech dry up in his mouth as Hannibal began to shake his head. Tightness constricted his chest, making it hard to breathe. Hannibal was talking, but Face couldn’t hear anything other than the hammering of his own heart against his rib cage.
“Face? Dammit, kid. Snap out of it and listen to me. I’m not saying no.”
“You’re not?” Face thought it was understandable if his voice shook a little. His cock was still hard and decidedly unhappy about the delay in proceedings. Meanwhile his heart felt like it had been put into a vice. Calloused fingers stroked his side, making him skip a breath. “If you’re saying yes, then why the fuck are you shaking your head?” he demanded, his temper flaring.
“Oh, we’re going to do this,” said Hannibal, “but you’re not calling all the shots here, kid.”
That was when Face finally caught the playful glint in Hannibal’s eye. “Let me guess, you want me to call you Boss in bed?” he asked, only half teasing.
The sound Hannibal made was akin to a growl as he moved his hands to grip Face’s wrists. “I’ll settle for you following orders in it now and then, soldier.”
Face’s cock twitched appreciatively at the idea. He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “Okay, I can do that,” he agreed.
“I don’t want this if you’re not one hundred percent on board,” said Hannibal, his expression cautious. The hard cock nudging Face told another story.
“I want it,” Face assured him. He went pliant and watched Hannibal carefully for his reaction. It didn’t disappoint. Face glimpsed something raw and almost desperate in Hannibal’s expression. Then he was being kissed.
“You drive me crazy,” Hannibal murmured against his mouth.
“Yeah, but you still want me, right?” said Face, trying to match the earlier playfulness. It didn’t come out as confident sounding as he would have liked. He couldn’t quite prevent a needy edge creeping into his voice. Face wanted to hear from Hannibal that they were on the same page. Hannibal’s soft huff of laughter ghosted over his skin. Face tensed before relaxing at the words that followed.
“I think we both know the answer to that. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. But you’re right, we’re not bound by their rules any more. It’s time to make some of our own. The first is this - I don’t share. You can play the game in public: bat those baby blues and exercise that charm - but you come home to me. No exceptions. The second is we clear this with BA and Murdock.” Hannibal placed a gentle kiss on the underside of Face’s jaw, and then a slightly harder one at the junction of his neck and shoulder that made the younger man breathe in sharply. “I won’t give you up,” Hannibal told him quietly, “but we’re a team first and foremost, and we need to maintain a balance. If we’re going to operate in the way we discussed, we need to stay focused when we’re working. No special favours. No unnecessary risks. Keep it professional on the job. Can you do that?”
Face knew what Hannibal was asking. Back on the freighter they had discussed what avenues were available to them if their hope of being reinstated in the army didn’t pan out. The proposal that they should become soldiers for hire was one that they still had to discuss with Murdock and BA, but they didn’t envision either man being adverse to the idea. But if he and Hannibal were really going to go forward with this, Face knew that he had to be able to separate Hannibal his lover from Hannibal his commanding officer. He honestly didn’t foresee it being a problem. He’d been heavily invested in this man’s well-being for a long time. Face couldn’t see that entering into the physical side of things was going to affect his powerful desire to keep Hannibal whole and safe one way or the other. He would lay down his life for Hannibal in a heartbeat if that was what it took, but Face knew he would do the same for Bosco and Murdock. His professional detachment wasn’t going to be affected by this, since where these guys were concerned, he had none. Therefore, Face was able to nod and swear that he would be one hundred percent professional when they were on a job.
“So, how do you want to do this?” he asked, a touch breathlessly since Hannibal had relinquished his grip on his wrists to stroke the skin beneath his shirt.
“I want it all, kid. Are you ready to give me that?”
Face swallowed around the sudden nervous lump that had formed in his throat. He told himself that he was being ridiculous. He knew what he was doing; this was hardly virgin territory for him. Except this was Hannibal, and that was new. Apparently, his deep-rooted desire to avoid disappointing this man incorporated a lot of ground. “Whatever you want,” Face agreed, unable to think beyond that.
“How about you tell me what you want,” said Hannibal. His thumb was stroking a maddening pattern over Face’s hip bone, and Face’s thoughts scattered like confetti, along with his ability to form coherent speech.
“You. Anything. Everything,” Face babbled.
“Everything?” Hannibal’s husky voice carried a note of amusement. “Hmm, I think we can work with that.” Face felt abruptly cold as Hannibal pulled away. He didn’t go far, rummaging in his kit bag and taking out a small container that must have come from the guards’ medical kit. At least, Face hoped to hell that Charisa hadn’t included it. Hannibal unscrewed the lid and set it down on the floor beside them. “You been careful, kid?”
Face didn’t pretend that he didn’t understand what Hannibal was asking. He nodded mutely, his voice failing him. Hannibal kissed him again, hands stroking Face’s chest possessively.
“Turn over,” Hannibal instructed softly.
The lower part of Face’s legs were still restrained by the material of his sleeping bag, and there was a brief, frustrating interlude before the zipper was drawn down and he wriggled free. Hannibal stripped him of his pants and underwear, but settled for pushing up Face’s shirt and completely ignored Face’s sock-clad feet. Given the temperature of their surroundings, Face didn’t mind, though it didn’t prevent him from feeling as exposed as if he had been completely naked, stretched out on top of his sleeping bag for Hannibal’s perusal. Face had been the subject of intimate scrutiny before, but Hannibal’s gaze was different. Face could almost feel it gliding over his skin, like a physical touch. The moonlight that had seemed so innocuous now had the harsh, isolating glare of a spotlight. Hannibal’s hands traced Face’s spine, following it slowly downward to cup the swell of his ass, eliciting a moan. Face sank his teeth into his lip to try and contain any further noises. It was beyond nuts doing this with Murdock sleeping only yards away, and Bosco awake and listening downstairs, but Face couldn’t find it in him to care as Hannibal’s fingers delved into the crease of his ass, displaying none of the hesitancy or nervousness that Face felt.
Hannibal stopped touching him to reach for the container of Vaseline. Face had known that Hannibal was talking, but with the older man’s hands on him, Face had found it difficult to focus on the words. Now he could concentrate on what Hannibal was saying.
“…God, look at you. So fucking gorgeous. I can’t believe I can touch you now. All those years trying to keep my hands off you… so damn hard… can’t believe you’re mine now. God, you’re finally mine.” Hannibal sounded as though he still didn’t quite believe it.
Used to compliments, Face nevertheless felt a heated flush steal across his skin. Turning his head, he pressed his hot cheek against the cool metal zipper of his sleeping bag. Vaseline coated fingers slipped between the cheeks of his ass and he gasped.
“Cold?”
“No… God… that feels…” Face’s voice trailed off into an appreciative moan as fingers stroked over his opening.
Hannibal chuckled softly. “Like that, do we?” Face responded by lifting his hips and pushing back into Hannibal’s touch, trying to get at least one of those teasing fingers inside him. “Impatient brat,” said Hannibal. All the same, he responded by nudging a finger past the tight ring of muscle, sliding it in to the third knuckle. Face made a soft choked sound and tried to rise up onto his knees. The weight of Hannibal’s hand on his back guided him back down onto the sleeping bag. “Ssh. Easy,” Hannibal soothed, “we don’t want to alert the Captain.”
Face didn’t care if Murdock wanted a ring side seat, and murmured his approval as a second Vaseline coated finger joined the first. It had been a while since he’d last done this, and Hannibal’s efforts met with some resistance, despite Face’s eagerness. Fortunately, Face’s body quickly remembered its part in the proceedings, and a third finger slid in more easily. At the same time it evidently hadn’t escaped Hannibal’s notice that Face was hardly a novice.
Hannibal leaned in low to whisper in Face’s ear. “No one else touches you like this,” uttered Hannibal fiercely. “Never again. Promise me.” He crooked his fingers inside Face’s body, and the younger man shuddered.
“I promise,” Face gasped out. “Christ. Yes. I promise. No one but you. No one else. Hannibal, please. I need you to fuck me.” Even Hannibal’s lauded self control had its limitations it seemed, as he hastily withdrew his fingers. Then his cock was pushing in, the Vaseline barely adequate. Face tried to relax, willing his body to allow the intrusion. He wanted this. Even so, it was almost too much. Face closed his eyes, colours merging behind his lids as Hannibal finally stopped; his body a warm weight against Face’s back. Face shifted slightly, he heard Hannibal groan.
“Kid, don’t move... I can’t. Not yet.”
Face went still and waited, Hannibal’s cock a welcome ache deep within his body, his ragged breaths loud by Face’s ear. Face waited, until the desire for more became unbearable, and he felt that he had to move or fly apart. “Hannibal, please,” he whispered, begging. Hannibal began to thrust; teasingly slow at first, clearly savouring the younger man’s corresponding soft cries. Face opened his eyes and glanced across at Murdock’s crate fortress. Struck anew by the insanity of the situation, Face was still unable to bring himself to care, not while Hannibal was using him to slake his pleasure and no barrier between them. Face struggled to stifle the sounds that might otherwise alert his friends, pressing his knuckles to his lips. Hannibal muted his own voice against Face’s skin, harsh kisses that veered closer to bites. Unable to lie prone any longer, Face rose up onto his knees and forearms; this time Hannibal didn’t try to make him stay down. His efforts changed the angle of Hannibal’s thrusts, and Face would have collapsed back onto his sleeping bag had it not been for the hands that held him. Face regained his equilibrium, and Hannibal’s hands moved to his hips, gripping them so firmly Face knew there was certain to be the dark smudges of bruises on his skin come morning. The thought sent a sharp thrill through him. Face clenched his muscles and heard Hannibal hiss, the rhythm of his strokes faltering.
As Hannibal abandoned all pretence at restraint, Face pushed back, trying to take Hannibal in deeper. Hannibal responded by reaching around to fist Face’s cock, gun calluses dragging on sensitive flesh, causing shudders of pleasure. When he came, it was with a suddenness that made his breath catch. Face tried to hold himself up, but his trembling muscles were rapidly losing motor control. Hearing Hannibal’s choked groan, Face let himself sink downward. Hannibal continued to thrust, slickly and more gently, until he was spent. Face suppressed a wince, biting his lip to withhold any indication of discomfort when Hannibal withdrew, leaving behind a dull ache and an odd, unfamiliar sensation of stickiness. Despite this, Face felt gloriously wrung out and well-used. He rolled - rather gingerly - onto his side, suppressing another wince. Face wanted to touch himself, slide his fingers through the slow dribble of cum escaping from his body. Something in Hannibal’s gaze told him to wait. A hand stroked Face’s thigh, nonchalantly at first, then with fresh purpose, wandering over Face’s hip to stroke his ass. Hannibal moved closer, until they were virtually sharing the same breath. Face’s eyes never left Hannibal’s as a single finger slipped inside his body: its passage eased by Vaseline and cum. Face’s hips jerked reflexively.
“Too much?” asked Hannibal gently, pausing in what he was doing. Face shook his head wordlessly, and Hannibal resumed, rocking his finger back and forth gently, teasing Face’s slick, swollen hole.
Face closed his eyes and let his head rest forward on Hannibal, breathing in the scent of cigars and sex. Hannibal’s exploratory touch was, in a strange way, more intimate than anything they had just done. It was slow and deliberate, possessive and claiming. Face thought about what Hannibal had to be feeling - his stretched, tender hole, flooded with cum. Face felt branded by it. Owned. He belonged utterly to Hannibal now. Face dropped a heartfelt kiss onto Hannibal’s skin. Hannibal’s finger withdrew and he tilted Face’s lips towards his own. They stayed that way until the chill of the room became too much. Then they hurriedly resumed articles of clothing and climbed back into their respective sleeping bags, lying close enough to interlace their hands. Face directed an uneasy glance toward Murdock. “What if they-”
“They’ll be fine with it,” Hannibal reassured him.
“Yeah, it’s fine with me,” drawled a sleep fuddled voice. “How ‘bout you, BA?” Murdock called down the stairs, barely raising his voice above normal volume.
BA responded in the same low tone. “I think you’re all crazy, but yeah, I’m good. Now will you go to sleep, so I can stop trying not to listen to the sounds I’m not supposed to be listening to, and let me listen for the stuff I might actually need to hear.”
Face didn’t know whether to be relieved to see his mortification reflected back at him in Hannibal’s expression. Then Hannibal laughed, and Face sniggered. This was actually going to work. The life they’d known might have been brutally and wrongfully ripped away from them, but it looked like this one would ultimately be their salvation. “I love you,” he whispered softly - fearlessly. The look in Hannibal’s eyes told Face it had been the right thing to say.
A fervent, “I love you too,” was murmured against Face’s lips. They exchanged further languid kisses until exhaustion overtook them, and the silence BA had asked for finally fell.
Murdock smiled and tugged his cap down over his eyes. BA waited and listened, relaxing with a smile of his own. Yeah, it was all good.