notjustaface | The Other Woman

The Other Woman

Charissa...

They met the officer's club, where else would he find a woman like her? She was passionate - intense, everything he wanted in a woman. It was easy to forget everything around her, everything about the man he was. She made it easy to turn a deaf ear on Hannibal's warnings about playing dangerous games and to turn a blind eye to the fact that Murdock was pulling away from him.

And it was all gone in an instant, the months together - the plans, the future.

They'd been lying in bed and he teased; "We're going to make such beautiful babies."

She laughed, at first. "How many of those beers have you had?"

"I mean it," and he really did, maybe it was time to settle down... do the family thing. "I'm being serious here."

Apparently she didn't feel the same. At least it sure as hell seemed that way when she walked out and stopped answering his calls and messages.

The second night alone he got a single text reply; "Don't call me again."

Well, that settles that. With a bottle of scotch alone in a dark room.

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He understands, and the mere request is enough to get the blood pumping just a little harder.

"You mean that?" He gasps, looking him over for any signs of mixed signals. "I mean... we can try... but you don't have to... you know..."

"Face," he says loudly and clearly. "Yes, I mean it."

Some hesitance is understandable, he supposes. It's been a long time, and this isn't entirely the best of circumstances.

"You got supplies?"

Does he have supplies? Is the pope Catholic? Do bunnies fart in the woods? Was Wham totally gay even for the 80s?

"Nightstand," he flushes warm, kissing his throat before pushing lower on the bed - making a quick trail of kisses over wiry hair toward his goal. "No rush... I'm a little... uh... slow right now."

Give him a minute, he'll get there.

Give him a break, it's been a while. And he was prepared, even if Face wasn't.

"Take all the time you need."

He shivers, reaching out and opening the bedside table drawer. As he digs around for the necessary items, his heart skips a beat as his fingers brush against a small, velvet-covered box.

Oh, Face...

Not sure what to do with the strange mix of sadness, anger and jealousy he's suddenly feeling, he finds the condoms and lube and presses them into Face's hand.

Good man, always ready.

His fingers clutch at the package, setting them aside to trace over the memory of hip bones and soft thighs as his mouth finds the perfect nest of curls he remembers all too well.

"Mmm, did you miss me baby?" He murmurs, nosing against the shaft. Definitely Murdock smell... warm and a little sweaty, but him.

And just like that, all his conflicted emotions are lost in a stiffled giggle.

"Mm, you know it."

That... is not his normal voice.

(It's not even his normal sex voice, which is something else entirely.)

There's that giggle that always drives him a little wild. And... well, he is talking to a penis.

"My mouth..." he grins, kissing along the base. "My tongue?" He licks up the underside, flicking over the tip. "What did you miss?"

"Oooh, all of it and more."

Still the same silly voice. God, he's missed being able to laugh with him like this.

It's enough to draw an easy laugh, the kind of laugh he hasn't had in a long time.

The kind of laugh best stifled by doing that thing with his mouth that's almost as good as talking his way in.

He licks his lips and then kisses gently over the length before taking him easily between his lips, humming low in his throat.

Just like riding a bicycle.

"Hng."

That effectively shuts him up, at least temporarily.

"God, you're amazing..."

He knows, no need to stroke that particular part of his ego.

Still, he rewards it with a hard swallow, feeling him harden against his tongue with each slip of his lips.

He needs it in a way, that feeling of control - knowing he's still desired.

And he always will be, in ways he hasn't even realized yet.

"Now... please.."

"Eager?" He asks with a cocked eyebrow, his lips barely leaving the wet tip.

He wasn't kidding when he said he was slow, but his body's starting to fire up and do it's job. When he pushes back on his knees, he's quick to fetch the blue ribbed number and roll it over his partially hard cock - stroking on the cool lube with a tight, purposeful grip.

"Keep talking..."

Don't tell me that, he thinks to himself. I'm not sure I can keep quiet about the things that matter.

"Missed you, so much..." he says again, groaning. "Thought about this all the time... alone at night..."

It's not what he wants to hear, not when it hurts... so he lowers himself over him and kisses the hurt away as best he can.

"Not alone..." he murmurs, stroking himself over the curve of his ass as he opens his thighs wider - trying to make it easier on him. He feels like he should say more, but the words aren't there - there's no way to say them. Instead, he strokes his fingers over the warm cleft as delicately as a china doll - pushing his slick middle finger slowly inside him.

"Always had the memories."

He gasps at the slow, gentle entrance. He wasn't kidding about taking his time.

"Never alone, either of us... not anymore..."

This is what happens when you tell him to talk, Face.

If his circuits were firing right, he'd be freaking out of that kind of statement. As it is, a one-track mind can be a blessing. He mutters an "Uh huh."

Then his mouth presses hard against his lips once more and he works his finger with several slow strokes before adding a second to make things a little easier on both of them.

"How you doing?" He asks earnestly, slowing his pace to curl his fingertips against a tender spot.

Yeah, that's a conversation they really shouldn't have in bed.

"Great," he murmurs. "Never better."

Or ever, ever's good.

"You say that now..." He smiles easily, letting himself be comfortable with where they are... It's a totally normal way to deal with a breakup.

Shaking away nagging thoughts, he withdraws his fingers, letting out a soft groan as he drags the tip of his cock over the slick skin and then holds his breath when he pushes in slow and easy.

"Tell me if you need me to stop or anything."

"Don't you dare," he hisses.

Right. Totally normal bonding between best friends.

Totally and completely normal.

He chuckles under his breath, but it's cut off with a low pleasured groan as he bucks his hips forward - hilting inside him.

Finding a comfortable, slow rhythm, he pushes as close as he can - relishing the sensation of skin against skin just as much as the amazing tightness squeezing him hard.

"God..."

He wants this to last, but he knows it'll be over all too soon.

"You... gah..."

Not finding any words, he goes quiet as they move together in rhythm.

It's okay though, he gets it.

One hand strokes up Murdock's side, caressing the softness intermixed with solid muscle before his blunt nails rake across his chest.

"You..." he murmurs, letting his body work harder against him - gradually letting himself rock faster before pushing back on his knees for deeper leverage. "You are so hot right now."

"So're you, baby..."

Brokenhearted, hung-over and he's still that damn gorgeous. It's unfair, it really is.

He pushes both hands up against Murdock's thighs, lifting him just enough to force himself deeper with each gentle thrust until he can taste the sweat beading on his upper lip.

"God I love..." his voice stops short, eyes half lidded before he forces out; "this."

It's weak, even to him - but a weak cover for a weak moment seems almost right.

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