notjustaface | Just Two Guys in Hammock

Just Two Guys in Hammock

Things have been going well, each mission the team seems a little closer - hell, they may as well be family... it's not like any of them have anyone else that would go out of their way to take care of them the way they take care of each other.

They're on standby in Borneo awaiting what Hannibal has assured them will be morning deployment working with another team of local boys that are sharing camp - after a few days it's a little more like a frat house on the beach than a half dozen tents and a couple APCs, nice and cozy complete with a campfire that never stops and free flowing local brew that comes in bright blue cans the size of an ankle and leaves behind a bitter aftertaste and substantial buzz after a few.

Relaxed, Face excuses himself from the circle of men around the campfire as Hannibal tells the story about the Venezuelan midgets to the rapt strangers and BA - he gives Murdock, who's hovering between the grill and the coolers, a nod - and then retires to his hammock just off the beach strung between a pair of tall, shaded trees.

He slings himself into the wide netting with a low, comfortable groan and downs the last of his beer before dropping the empty can where he can pick it up later.

"This is livin'..." At least as close to living as it gets when there's no solid roof over your head and the possibility of heavy artillery fire without notice.

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"Good to know."

He smiles, letting his head rest on Face's shoulder again, awkwardly reaching for his hand.

"Thanks."

Ball's in your court, buddy.

And there we go with the balls again...

The brush of fingertips against his hand is almost enough to unnerve him - it's a tender touch, and not what he's used to from the few men he's been tangled up with.

Sliding back into his comfort zone, he nuzzles closer and finds his lips to kiss him again - kissing is easy, natural. Like his lips were simply meant to mapped and tasted and explored. Just as easily, one strong hand slips under the soft rayon of Murdock's open Hawaiian shirt to cup the small of his back and hold him close.

"What about you?" He murmurs against bruised lips, curious himself.

He's reveling in the closeness, even as the small part of his mind that's remained rational is questioning what the hell they're doing.

"You'd be the first."

Hell, it's not like he's got a lot of experience with women either, but at least there he knows what he's dealing with.

"Always open to a new experience though."

He grins against Murdock's lips, nipping gently before kissing him again - even harder than before - the hammock swaying as though to push them even closer.

The first. He likes that... he can admit it, it's probably some macho thing but there's something nice about being the new thing.

The tease. The first.

He murmurs into his open mouth, his palm pushing aside the loose undershirt on Murdock's back to find his warm skin.

He returns the kiss in kind, determined to give as good as he gets. As nice as it is, being together like this, it feels a little overwhelming.

"You sure?"

The hammock swings again, just the right way, and by the feel of things, yeah, they're pretty sure.

Oh sweet fucking Jesus... thinking... thinking causes problems and exposes the serious lack of communication between his body and his brain.

"Uh-huh," he responds automatically, turning the palm that had been pushing upward - exploring the muscles he'd touched before but never with that particular level of thought in it - down toward the waistband of his khaki shorts.

"You?" It's more of a reflexive question than one he actually expects an answer to beyond the dig of arousal against his cargo shorts.

He inhales sharply.

"Good... think I'm good."

Thinking is clearly a thing they need to stop doing.

It's the gasp that does it - the familiar sound of him distinctly getting his way. Even if he's not entirely sure that's what he was going for five minutes ago.

"Good..." he echos, fingers clearing the waistband to find new, unexplored skin to tease.

It's not an electric sizzle, maybe just a slow burn that makes an unexpected knot in his gut with the red flags getting progressively harder to ignore.

"Mmm... need you..."

He leans against Face's shoulder again, breathing deeply and riding out the rush of new sensation.

Penis, meet brain. I believe you two may have met in passing.

Normally, that's a good sigh - a good, strong healthy sign that happy fun time is not only definitely on, but definitely going to a good thing.

Normally it wouldn't include his best friend's breath ragged against his ear and a flush of the rare occurrence of genuine Templeton Peck shame. It's not right. Not like this. Not when he's doing it even in part simply because he can.

He can't hurt Murdock like that.

"You don't..." he whispers, lowering his chin against the top of his friend's head. "Look... we should probably head back to camp before Hannibal comes looking for us."

He looks up at him as best he can from the awkward angle, eyes full of confusion and some deeper emotion that's probably best left unacknowledged at the moment.

"Can we just.. stay here like this for a minute?"

It wouldn't be the first time Hannibal's found them in the hammock together. And he needs that closeness, even if it doesn't lead to anything else.

Oh, yes. Hello there guilt too. And just a little dash of self-loathing.

"Yeah," he replies easily, as if things hadn't just gotten really weird there. As if he wasn't still physically ready to make good on the promise his kisses made. "Any time."

He swallows hard, slowly withdrawing his hand from the intriguing skin that he feels sleazy just touching. For a moment he's lost as to just what he can touch... where the line is... and settles on letting it rest almost innocently on Murdock's shoulder.

He wraps his free arm around Face's waist in an unselfconscious mostly innocent gesture of support.

"That got weird, didn't it?"

The gesture isn't lost on him - he knows Murdock a lot better probably than anyone else - and it's enough to draw a smile and a small kiss in his hair.

"No! No, not at all. Just... things..." he laughs awkwardly, his eyes spotting the unopened beers before he says; "It's good."

He can't admit, even to himself fully, that he cares too much to do what's on his mind.

"Yeah, it's okay."

They do know each other better than anyone else, which is half the reason they're tripping over themselves with this whole business.

"Was nice while it lasted."

There's nothing he can say to that. At all. At least nothing better than; 'I'm a colossal asshole and you deserve to sleep with someone a whole lot better.'

So he settles on an almost wistful; "Yeah... you're, uh... not a shabby kisser."

And there's only so many ways he can make it clear that he doesn't want anyone else.

But he takes the compliment for the somewhat awkward gesture of affection that it is, offering a shadow of his usual grin.

"You're not too bad yourself."

It's enough to draw a laugh that breaks his tension just a little bit.

Things can be comfortable again. It was just a thing that happened that they'll probably forget after their next near death experience - which is probably within the next 24 hours.

"Hey, I've made a career off that technique." He grins into the dirty hair under his lips, pressing a much smaller kiss without letting himself question exactly why he does.

"Yeah... I know."

But you don't do this with them, he tries to reassure himself.

And sooner or later, he'll figure out that's why it feels wrong.

Bets on later, rather than sooner.

"Thinking about throwing myself in the water before I bunk it." The water's not cold, but it'll give him a chance to tell the flesh to chill the fuck out before curling up on his cot.

Which happens to be sandwiched between the tent wall and Murdock.

He can't help but give a more genuine grin at that. "Closest thing you're gonna get to a cold shower here."

The sleeping arrangements have yet to cross his mind.

And it's just a little awkward to openly admit he could use one right about now and the tickle of hot breath on his neck isn't helping matters much.

"Yeah... well..." he coughs back a sheepish sigh, but knows them better than that.

"I should probably go, uh... make some more bananas."

Awkward, party of two, your table is ready.

"See you back at camp?"

Bananas he will be avoiding along with any other potentially phallic food until he's got himself a little more under control. He needs a minute... or ten.

"Yeah, I'll be around... after.. I just..."

He laughs again, failing to believe that he - Templeton Peck - is actually blushing.

"I'm gonna drink another beer."

"You do that."

He gives him an affectionate shoulder squeeze as he gets up. Or attempts to. Hammocks are tricky devils.

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notjustaface - 2013-03-05 08:12 (UTC) - Expand

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