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De-Anoning my Kink Meme fic

So, as everyone here probably knows, I've been spending way to much time over at a_team_kink . (650+ posts!) I've wrote a bunch of fic -- 10 in all, OMGWHAT -- over the past week (the past wonderful wonderful week) and I figure I may as well reveal my identity. So I'm posting them here, in the order that they appear on the meme, except for the fic I accidentally de-anoned on the meme.

Prompt: Hannibal/Face, powerplay, Face with his face in a pillow


Hannibal waited until the newly-formed team was settled into their quarters before whirling on Face.

"What did I tell you?"

Face grinned, not hearing the dangerous edge in Hannibal's voice. "Hey, it turned out pretty well, didn't it? I mean, we-"

"What did I tell you?" Hannibal roared, backhanding Face. Startled, Face stumbled a step, and before he could bring his hand up to his stinging cheek, Hannibal was there, holding his wrists together with one hand and grasping his jaw roughly with another.

Face wasn't grinning now.

"What did I tell you?" Hannibal asked a third time, voice smooth as silk but with an undercurrent of iron.

"You told me -- not to take Tuco down -- alone," Face choked out. He could feel something oozing out of the corner of his mouth, and he realized he was bleeding a little bit.

"That's right," Hannibal smiled. "And did you listen to me?"

Face shook his head a fraction of an inch. That was all he could move, the way Hannibal was gripping him.

Hannibal leaned closer, looking directly into his eyes. "And who is your commanding officer?"

"You are."

"And yet you disobey my orders," Hannibal tutted. "Clearly, you need a lesson in who your superior is." His eyes dropped to Face's mouth, and then he looked back up. "You're bleeding. That's a start. But not enough."

Moving almost faster than Face's eyes could track, Hannibal hit him again, in the same spot, and Face could definitely feel the blood this time. Almost as quickly, Hannibal seized his jaw again, drew him close, and slowly licked off the trickle of blood, letting his tongue linger a moment longer than necessary.

Face froze, unable to move, blink, barely even breathing. He could feel the heat radiating off Hannibal's body and knew that his was heating up, particularly below the waistline. Hannibal had to feel it, standing as close as he did. And then, just when Face thought Hannibal would let him go, leave the room, and give him the silent treatment for a few days, his boss grabbed the front of his shirt and flung him onto the bed, hard. A moment later, Hannibal was on top of him, every inch of lithe, lean muscle pressed against him.

And Hannibal was hard as a rock.

So was Face.

Hannibal pinned his wrists down to the mattress and leaned down to kiss him properly, then, or as proper as it could get in those conditions. At first, it was just a hard press of the lips, but Face wanted, he just wanted, and he opened his mouth. Then there was teeth, biting the cut in his lip, making it sting, and a tongue wrestling for domination, although both men knew who had won already.

"Take your shirt off," Hannibal whispered when the need for air became known. He let up his hands and Face wordlessly obeyed.

"Good. Very good," Hannibal purred, taking off his own. He leaned down again and Face turned his head up, hoping for another kiss, but instead Hannibal grinned wickedly and raked his fingernails down Face's chest, leaving ten light red scratches. Face whimpered, partly from the pain and partly from the sparks of pleasure he had gotten when the nails had hit his sensitive nipples.

"Like that, do you?" Hannibal mused. "Figures." He repeated the maneuver and Face gasped. His hips arched up almost of their own accord, desperate for friction.

"Ah-ah-ah," Hannibal shook his head. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a tube of lube, handing it to Face. "Get yourself ready, because I sure as hell won't."

"I-" Face managed to get out before Hannibal's hand locked around his throat, squeezing just tight enough to let him know the power Hannibal had over him.

"It would be in your best interests not to argue," Hannibal growled. "And don't act like you haven't done this before. I hear stories. Do you think I like hearing stories? Do you think I like hearing about how many soldiers have had you every which way? In their beds, in their jeeps, up against the shower wall?"

Without breaking eye contact with Hannibal, Face drenched his fingers with lube and reached down, pressing himself open as quickly as he dared -- first with one finger, then two, fighting the whole time not to come just from the look Hannibal was giving him. While Face did that, Hannibal finished undressing himself, baring completely his lithe body, strong and graceful as a cat.

Face made no indication when he was ready, but Hannibal somehow knew.

"Turn over and put your hands behind your back," he ordered, and Face did. Suddenly, he felt cold metal on his wrists and heard a click.

Hannibal had fucking handcuffed him.

"What the-" he yelped, jolting upward, but was stopped by Hannibal's hand at the base of the back of his neck, slamming his head into the pillow.

"You need to learn to follow orders without question," Hannibal snarled. Face didn't reply. He couldn't, with most of his face pressed into a pillow.

Hannibal used his knee to kick apart Face's legs slightly. He lined himself up and thrust completely into Face with one powerful snap of his hips. Face couldn't help it -- he lifted his head just enough to make a rough noise, somewhere between a scream and a groan. He'd prepared himself, but damn, Hannibal's dick was huge.

"Who is your commanding officer?" Hannibal whispered directly into his ear.

Face couldn't get his thoughts together quickly enough to formulate words. All that came out was a choked moan as Hannibal started thrusting in and out -- surprisingly gently.

"Who is your commanding officer?" Hannibal asked again, voice harsher.

"Y-you are," Face gasped, voice barely audible. "Hannibal- please-"

"Shut up."

Face did, as he was shoved back into the pillow again as Hannibal picked up the pace and intensity, using every ounce of muscle at his disposal to ride Face's ass as hard as he could. The parts of Face's body that Hannibal didn't have pinned down or handcuffed twitched and jerked almost helplessly, and he couldn't help the whimpers that came from his throat. It was only through sheer willpower that he stopped himself from begging Hannibal to go harder, faster.

And then Hannibal adjusted his angle and hit a spot inside Face that made him see sparks. He found himself desperately arching his hips, rutting against the mattress, meeting Hannibal's every thrust. And although he didn't make the noises Face was making, Hannibal's breathing grew louder, rougher, and the hand at the base of Face's neck gripped harder.

"Who is your commanding officer?" Hannibal snarled again. This time, Face was able to respond quickly.

"You are."

"Good." He could feel Hannibal grinning. "And who gives the orders?"

"Y-you do."

"Excellent. I'm glad you are learning. And who," he whispered directly into Face's ear, pausing for a nip at his earlobe that just added to the trainload of sensations Face was dealing with at the moment, "owns your ass?"

"You do!" Face gasped.

"And will you obey my orders from now on?"

"Yes!" Face cried. "Yes- yes, I will, I- fuck!"

With a loud, wordless cry, he came, all over the sheets, like a desperate teenager. Hannibal followed a moment later, snarling deeply and digging his fingers into Face's hips hard enough to leave bruises.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting and catching their breath. After a minute, Hannibal climbed off him and a minute after that he heard a click, and the cuffs were slid off his wrists. He rubbed them gratefully, with what little strength he had left.

"Glad to see we have that settled," Hannibal said, rolling over and turning out the light. "Come here."

Face didn't actually get to obey that, as Hannibal dragged him before he could summon the will to move. Carefully, mindful of Face's new bruises, he maneuvered them so that Face was comfortably situated in Hannibal's strong, protective arms.

"Wow," Face breathed. "Can that happen every time I disobey orders?"

"Shut up and sleep," Hannibal mumbled sleepily, but Face felt the smile against the back of his neck.

Feeling safe, warm, and loved, Face slept.

Prompt: BA/Murdock, tied up together


BA woke up slowly.

The first thing he noticed was the cement wall. The second was the duct tape. The third was the persistent, annoying, all-too-familiar humming.

"Murdock! What the hell!" he grunted, trying to get out of the chair before realizing his arms were duct-taped to the chair. Which was back-to-back with Murdock's. When he tried to scoot away from Murdock, to get away from the non-stop humming, he found, to his dismay, that the chairs were duct-taped together. "What happened?"

"Well, that all depends. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Looking at a chopper and thinking that there was no way I was getting inside it."

"You got inside it."

"Let me guess. You shoved a needle into the back of my neck. Again."

"When you say it like that, it sounds like a bad thing!"

BA sighed, not even bothering to pursue that point. "Where are Hannibal and Face?"

"They went to go hit the main compound."

"Where the fuck are we?"

"I guess I- I mean, I guess Hannibal and Face overdosed you, because we couldn't wake you up, so they had me hide out with you, but then we got found, and I couldn't keep them away. They tied us up here either to lure Hanners and Face in or to keep us out of the way, I don't know. I think we're in a basement."

BA spent the next few minutes surveying the room as much as he could while duct-taped to a chair and testing the bonds of the duct tape. Murdock spent the next few minutes humming Lady Gaga's entire repertoire and occasionally twitching.

"Guess we'll just have to wait for reinforcements, huh?" Murdock asked after awhile. "The tape stronger than you?"

"It's duct tape, fool! Duct tape is stronger than anything!"

"So what you are telling me is that you can't bust us out of here with your obscenely large yet implausibly sexy muscles?"

"No, I- wait, what?"

"So it's like your kryptonite."

Murdock had once told him that he wasn't random, nobody else could think as fast as he could. Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn't. Damn fool was nuttier than a Snickers bar.

"I mean, every superhero, no matter how indestructible, must have a kryptonite to balance out the universe and give his enemies a means to defeat him, right?"

"Murdock, I swear, the minute we get out of here, I'm gonna kryptonite you."

BA sat, straining his ears in vain to hear any sound other than Murdock making his way through the first season of Glee. Why Hannibal had ever let Murdock have control of the TiVo, he would never know.

"Murdock!" he growled after what seemed like forever. "Can you at least stop twitching? You're vibrating like the goddamn energizer bunny!"

"Sorry, Bosco," Murdock muttered, and it was his serious, nervous tone that made BA realize that this time, something might actually be wrong. "You know how you aren't to fond of flying?"

Understatment of the year.

"Well, I'm not to fond of being tied up."

Oh.

"They don't like it when the cuckoo tries to fly the nest, you know? And they really don't like it when the cuckoo doesn't want to take his meds."

"Uh...sorry, dude," BA tried awkwardly, as Murdock continued twitching, with added foot-tapping for good measure. "Don't worry, Hannibal and Face will be here in no time."

"I hope so," he could hear Murdock say quietly.

BA wasn't overly sure what made him do it, but he flexed the muscles in his left arm and reached back with his wrist, brushing his fingers against Murdock.

"BA? What are-"

"Shut up, fool," BA mumbled, glad that Murdock couldn't see his face, because he was relatively certain he was blushing. Thankfully, Murdock actually shut up for once and accepted the offered comfort, letting BA hold his hand. Eventually, he stopped twitching, and the two waited in silence.

Finally, they heard distinct sounds of gunfire and shouting in the corridor. A moment of calm, and then the door burst open with the scent of a cuban cigar. BA quickly let go of Murdock's hand.

"Sorry I'm late, boys," Hannibal said. "We got...well, we got tied up."

BA could hear Face's muffled laughter.

"Shut up and get us out of here, fool," BA said.

Face, for once, complied with orders, although he made several jokes while he was doing it, mostly about bondage. Finally, BA and Murdock were free, albeit with bits of duct-tape sticking to their clothes. As Hannibal hustled them out to the getaway vehicle -- so to speak -- Murdock winked at him.

Once they were in the back of the car, and had put several miles between them and the burning remnants of the compound, Murdock snuck his hand across the seat and grabbed BA's hand again. BA turned to glare at him, but Murdock gave him that zany, wild grin, and all BA could do was roll his eyes and let the damn fool hold his hand.

He'd kill Murdock himself if he ever told Face about this, though.

Ever.


Prompt: Hannibal/Face, Hannibal blowing a fuse upon finding Face with another guy, general possessiveness


Hannibal was walking down the hall of the team's quarters, when he heard some suspicious noises coming from Face's room. He stopped briefly in front of the door, through which the faintest noises of thumps and Face's laughter could be heard. He started to grin to himself – his Face, slowly making his way through most of the female population of the city. Just as he was wondering if he should slip a couple extra condoms under the door – he just loved subtlety – another noise made him stop dead in his tracks.

A man's voice.

Another split second of listening, and he was still unable to recognize it.

That meant one thing.

A haze of red descended over his vision and he tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. Hannibal was surprised there wasn't a goddamn sock hanging off of it. Locked doors had never presented much of a problem, though.

He kicked it down.

“Holy shit!”

“What the fu-”

In a flash, Hannibal was across the room and hauling the man off Face by the back of his neck. With about as much effort as it took to swat a fly, he flung him across the room.

“Hannibal!” Face yelped. “Geez, what's wrong?”

“You know damn well what's wrong,” Hannibal growled. He turned toward the heap of Face's hookup. Clearly not military, if he was stupid enough to try anything with any one of Hannibal Smith's men – particularly this one.

“Get out,” he ordered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” the guy said.

“Get out now, before I throw you out the window,” Hannibal repeated, taking a step forward for emphasis. Whoever it was needed no more encouragement, and he ran out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. It wouldn't have mattered if he had – the hinges were hanging loose.

“As for you,” Hannibal snarled, turning back to Face, who sat shirtless, red-face, and very obviously embarassed on the couch, “what the hell were you doing?”

“I went out to a bar?” Face offered.

Hannibal tapped his foot.

“And you never – you know – care if I sleep with chicks,” Face continued. “And I just thought-”

“No, Face, you didn't think,” Hannibal informed him. “You didn't think, because if you had, you would have remembered that your ass belongs to me, and me alone.”

“I'm sorry?” Face tried as Hannibal climbed on top of him, until they were both sprawled across the couch, his Colonel's weight a comfortable, familiar, and incredibly arousing sensation.

“Sorry isn't good enough,” Hannibal said. “Your little antics got me all riled up. And do you know what that means?”

“I get fucked?” Face ventured.

“Bingo,” Hannibal grinned. In a few quick, practiced movements, Hannibal had removed what remained of Face's clothes and all of his own and flipped the younger man over, pressing his face into the couch's armrest.

“Cold!” Face yelped as Hannibal drizzled lube all over his fingers and began to work him open.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to act like a slut,” Hannibal told him, adding a second finger and pushing deeper. Face jerked. “Ah. Like that, do you?”

“Um...no?”

Hannibal chucked deeply. “Oh, Face. You're too cute.” Deciding that Face was ready enough for this particular lesson, he removed his fingers and gripped Face's hips, sliding in slowly, sighing with pleasure at the tight ass that belonged to him.

“Hannibal – I-” Face turned his head to the left and yelped. “Shit! Hannibal! The door's open!”

“So?” Hannibal chuckled, pulling out slightly.

“So someone could see us!”

“Good,” Hannibal whispered, directly into Face's ear. He shivered. “Then they'll see that you belong to me.” With that remark hovering in the air, he snapped his hips, driving into Face even deeper.

“Fuck,” Face groaned, grinding his hips back to meet Hannibal's thrusts. He whimpered when Hannibal shifted just enough to hit the sweet spot.

Desperate for release, he tried to work a hand down to where his cock was begging for attention, but Hannibal caught it and slapped it back to its previous position.

“Let me take care of that,” he purred, slipping between the couch cushions and Face, gripping him and stroking him just the way Face liked it – hard, rough, and fast.

“Yes – Hannibal – please, harder,” Face gasped, losing the synchronized rhythm he and Hannibal had going as his thrusts became more erratic. Hannibal could tell from the trembling of his muscles that he was close.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Hannibal whispered softly, placing a gentle kiss right behind Face's ear. With that, Face was gone, and he came with a hoarse cry into Hannibal's hand and all over the couch. Panting, he rested his forehead in the armrest as Hannibal thrust three more times and then followed, coming buried balls-deep in Face.

After a moment, their rapidly cooling sweat threatened to adhere them together, and Hannibal shifted off Face. The younger man winced – he would be sore as hell in the morning, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Would you say you learned your lesson?” Hannibal panted, trying to catch his breath.

“I don't know, I might need a review,” Face replied, moving so that he was snuggled with his back to Hannibal's chest and his head right beneath Hannibal's chin. Still enjoying the blissful afterglow, neither of them remembered that the door was wide open until a moment later, when they heard two sets of thundering footsteps and shouting coming down the hallway.

“Give that back, fool!” BA's voice wafted down the passageway, and a split second later Murdock ran by the door. He glanced to the side and stopped dead in his tracks. BA, coming up behind him at top speed, ran straight into him, which almost knocked them down.

Face and Hannibal stared at BA and Murdock.

BA and Murdock stared at Face and Hannibal.

Without a word, BA picked up the door from where it had been mostly torn off its hinges and placed it awkwardly back into place.

“BA?” they could hear Murdock's voice, sounding rather traumatized. “I think I need alcohol now.”

“Yeah, me too,” BA replied.

Face and Hannibal waited until the footsteps and Murdock-babble had completely receded down the hallway before bursting into laughter.

Prompt: Hannibal/Murdock, BDSM, "sometimes Hannibal doesn't want to be the boss"


Another long day, another mission, another near-death experience, another aching trigger finger, and another headache.

Hannibal flopped down onto his bed and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes until he saw sparks. It only distracted him for a moment, but then the he came right back to his tense muscles and the remnants of adrenaline running through his veins. He thought, briefly, about going out to a bar and picking up some stranger to get rid of the tension, but that would mean getting up, going out, being all charming and seductive...and he was sick of having to all the work, all the time.

He was interrupted from that particular train of thought by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, knowing it had to be one of his team.

It was Murdock.

"You look stressed," he said by way of greeting.

Hannibal shrugged. "Just the usual. Being in charge all the time has a way of winding you up."

"Mmmhmm. I see," Murdock nodded sagely, striding towards the bed. Hannibal could feel himself tensing up even more as the pilot got closer. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," Hannibal said hoarsely. "But I appreci-"

"Well, that's too bad," Murdock continued. "Because I'm not in the mood to take no for an answer." Having reached Hannibal, who was sitting up ramrod-straight, he proceeded to straddle him.

"Murdock, what are you doing?" Hannibal whispered, although he had a very good idea of where this was going, and certain parts of his anatomy liked it very, very much.

"You know, Colonel, you'd think that a man of your intellect would be able to figure it out," Murdock replied, kneading the the muscles of Hannibal's shoulder slightly. "I'm helping you relieve some of this tension." He ran his hands down Hannibal's chest. "And this tension." His hands went lower.

"Captain, this is totally out of line!" Hannibal said gruffly, struggling to control himself as Murdock squeezed his hard-on through his jeans.

"Hannibal, with all due respect, shut up." With that, Murdock pulled a roll of duct tape out of his jacket pocket, ripped off a strip, and plastered it over Hannibal's mouth. As a knee-jerk reaction, Hannibal swung his hands up at Murdock, but the pilot caught them effortlessly.

"Now, Hannibal, that's just naughty," he said, his lilting southern accent making him sound absolutely, preposterously offended. "I dare say you're going to have to be punished for that. Now, let's try this again. Take your shirt off."

Hannibal did, slowly, looking Murdock in the eye the entire time. The two sat there for a moment, Murdock grinning with an edge, Hannibal quivering slightly with anticipation. Murdock pushed him back onto the bed and trailed his hands down his chest, following with his lips, slithering down until his chin was resting on the waistband of Hannibal's pants, which were noticeably quite tight.

"For me?" Murdock smiled cheekily, looking up at Hannibal, who glared back. "You're so thoughtful." He slithered back up, making sure to rub up against every inch of Hannibal's body along the way. "Now, undress yourself, get on your hands and knees, and we'll see what we can do about it."

Murdock watched with predatory eyes as Hannibal obeyed his instructions to the letter.

Hannibal waited, shaking all over, tenser than ever and trying to gain his bearings through a haze of lust, silently begging for Murdock to touch him. He heard a few rustles and saw Murdock hanging his jacket on the bedpost -- god only knew why -- before feeling two strong, capable hands smooth down his back, undoing some of the tension that had gathered there. Hannibal's eyes fluttered shut, but jerked wide open when he felt a slick finger probing at his entrance.

"Breathe, Hannibal," Murdock ordered, and Hannibal did, finding himself relaxing slightly, even as the pilot's capable fingers stretched him open.

"That should do it," Murdock pronounced after a few minutes. "Grab the headboard, and don't let go."

Hannibal did, and as soon as his shaking hands had wrapped around it, Murdock pushed into him, slowly, stretching him, filling him. Hannibal groaned, muffled through the tape, and he could practically hear Murdock grinning like a cat. He pulled back, waited a moment, and used his hips to slam himself into Hannibal so hard the bed shook.

"Yeah, that's the stuff," he pronounced, repeating the maneuver. Hannibal's hands slackened their grip on the headboard, and he was so desperate to get some friction on his aching cock that he removed one hand with the intention of taking care of himself, but Murdock moved like lightning and caught it.

"Ah-ah-ah," he tutted. "You come on my dick, or you don't come at all." He reached over to his jacket and pulled out a shining pair of handcuffs. "Don't fight," he said, locking Hannibal's hands into them. "Now, keep your damn hands on the headboard."

This time, metal chafing against his wrists, Hannibal obeyed, and Murdock resumed his thrusts, angling himself expertly so that he hit the spot inside Hannibal that made him see sparks each time. Hannibal's breathing became more stuttered, and he gripped the bed tighter, the tension building to breaking point in his body. He found himself whimpering, begging for release. Clearly, Murdock heard it, because he reached up and grabbed the edge of the tape.

"Come for me," he whispered into Hannibal's ear, and ripped the tape off in one motion. With a roar of pleasure sharpened by pain, Hannibal did exactly as Murdock ordered, feeling all the tension leave his body. Murdock followed a moment later, resting his forehead on Hannibal's back. After a minute of heavy breathing, he fished the key out of his jacket pocket and unlocked Hannibal, letting his commander flop to the bed.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Murdock asked, sounding unsure and more like himself.

"No," Hannibal managed to gasp. "Well, a little, but I needed it."

"You sure did," Murdock agreed, tucking himself under Hannibal's arm and tangling their legs together.

"You know," Hannibal said, already feeling himself drifting off to sleep, "I get stressed out an awful lot. It's hard work, being the boss."

"Well, I'll just have to make myself help you out," Murdock replied, mumbling the words into Hannibal's skin.

Before he could formulate a reply, Hannibal was asleep, warm and relaxed.

Prompt: Hannibal/Face, masturbation and voyeurism, blowjob with d/s implications (two prompts that I combined)


The damn puppets had to be around here somewhere.

Murdock had insisted on puppet theater again, and by the time the third act rolled around, the whole team had been annoyed enough for Hannibal to confiscate the puppets. Unfortunately, Murdock's whining was even more annoying than the musical numbers as performed by hand-held farm animals, and the task of getting them back had fallen to Face. He figured he would slip into Hannibal's quarters, grab the puppets, give them to the pilot, and pretend Murdock had somehow found them.

But Hannibal was good at hiding stuff.

Just as he was about to search the bedroom closet, the distinct sound of a door shutting came from the entrance. Quickly, Face shut himself inside and peered through the slats in the wood. He was going to be in so much trouble if Hannibal found him here. Hopefully, the commander wouldn't need any jackets anytime soon.

Face watched, silent, as Hannibal entered the room, shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes, and flopped down on the bed. Face sighed quietly in relief. Hannibal would doze off in a few minutes, and then he could come out of the closet, so to speak.

But Hannibal didn't go to sleep.

Grumbling indistinctly to himself, he stretched. Face watched as sleek muscles shifted under the indecently tight t-shirt. Murdock, he decided, should always do the laundry from then on. He forgot about laundry when Hannibal started unbuttoning his pants.

It wasn't a big deal, Face thought. He'd seen Hannibal -- heck, he'd seen his whole team -- undress more times than he really cared to remember. Shared locker rooms and all that. No big deal. Except Hannibal wasn't undressing with the intention of going to sleep. No, he was unzipping his jeans, sliding them down, and Face suddenly found out that his commander was going commando that day. He also found out that his commander was hard. Also, extremely well hung, Face thought in a mix of admiration and lust.

He shouldn't be watching this. He really, really shouldn't. But Face found himself unable to tear his eyes away, and any thoughts he might have had flew right out of his head when Hannibal took hold of his cock and stroked once, slowly, from base to tip, visibly relaxing. He repeated the maneuver twice more before settling into shorter, faster strokes.

Face, without looking, reached down to the front of his own shorts. Unsurprisingly, he was already at full attention, which made sense, considering he was more turned on than he had ever been in his life. Slipping a hand inside, he took ahold of his own dick, and worked himself furiously, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he watched Hannibal thrusting into his own hand barely six feet away. Feeling his release coming on fast and strong, he leaned his forehead into the door and squeezed his eyes shut, seeing white as he came all over himself like he was a teenager again.

Suddenly, while he was still processing the aftershocks, his support was yanked away and he fell to the floor. He looked up in a mix of lust, horror, and embarrassment at the sight of Hannibal standing there, still hard, looking down at him with an unreadable expression. It was one thing, Face knew, to be caught with one's pants down, but quite another to be caught with one's hand down his pants.

Well, this was awkward.

"So," Hannibal ventured. "You just came out of the closet."

"Uh...surprise?" Face tried, grinning cheekily up at his superior.

"Indeed." Hannibal looked down at him for another minute. "Well, I see you've already had your fun. But you interrupted mine. And seeing as how I don't get much time to myself, I can't say I'm too pleased about that."

"I'm...sorry?" Face tried.

Hannibal grinned. "I think we can figure out a way for you to make it up to me. Seeing as you're already on your knees..."

"Well, let me help you out there...sir." With that, Face ran his tongue up the underside of Hannibal's length before taking the tip into his mouth, enjoying Hannibal's moan. He hadn't sucked dick in awhile, but, as they said, it was like riding a bike. He slid further down, taking more as Hannibal's hips canted forward.

"That's it," Hannibal whispered huskily, bringing his hands up to Face's hair and tugging slightly. Encouraged, Face relaxed his throat and swallowed Hannibal whole, grinning at Hannibal's gasp. Hannibal tightened his grip, yanking Face's hair, but Face had always liked it rough and that just spurred him more.

"Good boy," Hannibal chuckled, thrusting shallowly, taking care not to choke Face. For all Hannibal's calm demeanor, though, Face could feel him trembling. He was close -- very close --

"Swallow," Hannibal ordered, still managing to sound commanding while in the throes of orgasm, and Face obeyed, sucking down the hot, salty liquid, and wiping his mouth when he was done.

"Some advice," Hannibal said, voice rough. "Next time you want to get lucky, don't bother with the closet. Just go straight to the bed."

"I'll remember that," Face promised.

The next night, Hannibal came back to his room to find Face lounging in his bed like he owned it.

Hannibal wasn't surprised.

Prompt: Hannibal/Face, "You are really tan."


"You are REALLY tan."

Face grinned, patting the side of the absconded tanning booth. "Yeah, I've been spending a lot of time with this baby."

Hannibal crossed his hands across his chest. "And how, exactly, did you get access to this 'baby' while you were incarcerated in a prison camp?"

Face looked slightly guilty, and slightly smug. "You know how you're always telling us to use the resources at our disposal?"

"I'm glad to see you finally decided to start listening to me."

"Well, I just used the resources at my disposal!"

Hannibal arched an eyebrow. "And what would those resources be? Your charm? Your obscenely over-developed chest muscles? Your rapier wit?"

"And my dick."

Hannibal's other eyebrow went up. "So you were the prison bitch?"

"Hannibal!" Face sounded quite offended. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times -- I'm YOUR bitch."

This time, Hannibal grinned. "Well, I'm glad to hear it."

"Now, what's with this place you brought me to?" Face asked, looking around at the beautiful, remote seaside location. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to be romantic."

Hannibal shrugged. "Maybe I am. Haven't seen you for six months, after all. And against all odds, I actually missed you."

"Aww, I'm touched," Face grinned, sarcasm mixing with seriousness. "I missed you too."

Hannibal ran his eyes up and down Face's body again, drinking in the sight. "Been working out?"

"You noticed."

"Good," Hannibal said gruffly, looking away as he dug through his pockets for the truck's keys. "You'll need it for what I have planned for-"

He was cut off abruptly when Face, quite literally, leaped on him, and only his years of military training kept them both from falling over. Before he could recover from the shock, Face's mouth was on his, kissing him frantically at first, then more gently, which may have had something to do with the two of them running out of air.

Hannibal moaned into Face's mouth when the younger man wrapped his legs around him, his own body reminding him, quite suddenly, that he hadn't gotten laid in over six months.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Hannibal gasped, pulling away just enough to talk. "We -- we have to -- the plan-"

"The plan's waited six months, the plan can wait another couple of minutes," Face replied, arms securely locked around Hannibal.

"Could you at least stand on your own damn feet? You're on me like a monkey to a banana tree."

"What, can't handle my weight, old man?" Face grinned.

Hannibal grinned back. "Now I know you're just asking for it." With that, he took a few steps forward until he was able to shove Face against the side of the truck. "Old man, huh?" Before Face could formulate a snarky reply, Hannibal kissed him again, hard.

Face groaned. None of the women he had hooked up with in the past six months could ever match Hannibal for sheer tongue skill. Or sheer anything else, really. Hannibal grinned into Face's mouth, feeling Face's hardness even more as Face wrapped his legs around him even tighter. He ground down, trapping Face between a truck and a hard place. A really, really hard place. Enjoying the high pitched whine Face made, he repeated the maneuver, picking up a steady rhythm, rubbing their hard cocks together through their clothes.

"I've missed you, pretty boy," Hannibal whispered, trailing kisses and bits down Face's neck.

"Fuck you, I'm manly," Face gasped in reply.

"Yeah? Then why are your legs wrapped around me like some chick in a low-rent porno?"

"Leverage-" Face stuttered slightly. "And -- and-"

"And what, Facey? And what?"

Face didn't reply, unless a wordless cry and an orgasm could be called a reply. Hannibal followed a moment later, finally letting Face down, but keeping his arms locked around him, just in case he needed the extra support.

"I hope you brought spare clothes," Face said after a minute, looking down.

"You bet," Hannibal replied, pulling out a slightly squashed cigar from his pocket and sticking it between his teeth as he opened the door and tossed Face some pants and a shirt. "Sorry if the shirt clashes with your coloring, though. I didn't expect you to look like a pumpkin."


Prompt: Hannibal/Face, wall!kink (ie, sex up against a wall)

"Sounds like quite a plan, Face."

Face looked up from the model of his plan, spread out across the table. "I'm just double-checking everything."

"That's good," Hannibal said, striding towards him purposefully. "But you've been double-checking for five hours in a row. Time for a break, don't you think?"

Out of habit, Face stood. "I just don't want anything to go wrong." Glancing down, he winced slightly, realizing that there was some evidence in his pants that maybe he shouldn't have stood up after all.

"The first rule of planning grand schemes is not to tense yourself up so much you psych yourself out," Hannibal informed him, continuing to walk towards him calmly. Face found himself backing up until he hit the wall. Hannibal didn't stop his approach, though.

"All work and no play makes Peck a dull boy, right?" Face asked, wishing that Hannibal would back off even as his body was begging him to come a little closer. Hannibal, evidently, listened to Face's body.

"That's right," his commander grinned.

"So...what's the second rule?" Face asked as Hannibal planted his hands on the wall, one on each side of Face's head, and leaned in.

"The second rule is to always have control of the situation," Hannibal said, taking one hand and running it slowly down Face's chest, feeling the younger man's rapid heartbeat underneath the sleek muscle. He grinned at the gasp Face made when his hand reached the bulge in his pants, squeezing slightly. "Mmm. Nice."

For once, Face found himself unable to come up with a witty reply. He found himself unable to even move as Hannibal slid effortlessly to his knees and nimbly undid his belt buckle, biting back a moan as Hannibal's strong hands pulled down his jeans, freeing his almost painful erection.

"Commando, Face?" Hannibal chuckled. "Somehow, this doesn't surprise me in the least."

"Well that's odd, since I'm usually a very surprising person," Face managed to say. The very tiny part of his brain that was still functioning applauded his ability to come up with a snappy retort in any situation: about to be torched by drug dealers, about to be imprisoned by the government, about to be sucked off by his commanding officer.

"Of course you are, Face," Hannibal said indulgently, before taking Face into his mouth.

Face groaned at the impossibly wet heat. Six months with slutty prison guards, he decided, had nothing on this. Hannibal, it seemed, aimed to tease. He swallowed Face almost entirely -- an ability which had to have taken practice, and damn if he wasn't going to get that story out of Hannibal sooner or later -- before sliding back slowly and swirling his devil of a tongue around the head of his cock.

"Jesus -- please, Hannibal -- more," he gasped, and Hannibal chuckled, Face's dick still halfway down his throat. The vibrations tingled throughout Face's entire body and he slammed his head back. It hit the wall, hard, and almost gave him a moment of clarity when the pain sliced through the fog of pleasure before Hannibal apparently took pity on him and went back to work. Face found himself thrusting forward involuntarily, but when he did, Hannibal placed two strong, capable hands on his hips and pushed him roughly against the wall, effectively pinning him and preventing him from thoroughly fucking Hannibal's throat, which was apparently what his body had been attempting to do. In retaliation for the immobilization of his hips, he brought his hands to Hannibal's hair and tugged roughly, but not enough to hurt. Surprisingly, Hannibal moaned at that, which caused a chain reaction that culminated in Face having one of the most powerful orgasms of his life at the hands and mouth of his former commanding officer while shoved up against the wall of an illegally borrowed cargo ship.

"Fuck," he choked eloquently, as Hannibal very calmly and collectedly swallowed every drop of his come. Face felt his body liquefy, and he would have sagged to the floor if not for Hannibal suddenly being right in front of him, upright and pinning him to the wall, with his own erection pressing insistently into Face's thigh. Before Face could offer to do something about it, Hannibal kissed him, firmly but not roughly. Face could taste himself in Hannibal's mouth, and that realization sent a spark of lust zinging through his veins.

Without breaking the kiss, Hannibal reached into his own pants pocket before letting them drop -- he too had gone commando, Face noted later. But what he noted at the moment was the slight click of a bottle and then two slick fingers probing at his entrance. He moaned as Hannibal pushed them in carefully and expertly, while trailing unexpectedly light kisses down his throat before settling in at the spot where his shoulder joined his neck.

"Ready?" Hannibal asked after a few minutes, voice deep and hoarse.

"Yeah," Face whispered, a part of him marveling that he was already getting hard. It was just like being a teenager again.

Hannibal hoisted him up, and Face willingly wrapped his legs around Hannibal's waist for leverage. Between the actual wall behind him and the wall that was Hannibal's muscular body, he had plenty of support. He felt his shirt riding up, and cold metal scraped at his back. Hannibal lined himself up against Face and thrust in, letting out a shaky breath of air that couldn't be heard over Face's groan as Hannibal pushed him against the wall even harder. Suddenly, sparks exploded in front of his eyes as a burst of pleasure shot through his body.

"Do that again," he pleaded, and Hannibal complied, the angle of Face, the wall, and Hannibal's cock ensuring that every thrust hit the sweet spot. Face ran his hands under the back of Hannibal's shirt, palming the powerful muscle before digging in his nails hard enough to break skin when Hannibal rolled his hips again. Payback for the wall scraping his back, he figured, and scraped his nails down Hannibal's back.

"Fuck," Hannibal growled, driving harder and deeper into Face's all-too-willing body. Somewhere inside him that wasn't hazy-red with pleasure or seeing sparks scolded him for moaning like a girl -- wantonly, even -- but he couldn't bring himself to care as Hannibal banged him against the wall. The rhythmic thumping, he was quite sure, was audible throughout the whole ship, but again, he really didn't give a shit as Hannibal rode him harder, faster, until Face finally gasped a few unintelligible words and clenched around Hannibal in what was his second orgasm of the night, and got Hannibal's shirt very sticky indeed.

Hannibal, for his part, summoned up a reserve of power that hadn't been there before and thrust into Face's pliant body once -- twice -- three more times until, with a roar, he was coming. And that was when Face felt the unexpected sensation of the support behind him giving out. With barely a crack of warning, the metal wall -- which, upon later examination, would prove to be very old and structurally unstable -- at his back gave out, and he felt himself tumbling backwards. He landed hard on the floor with Hannibal on top of him.

Holy shit. Hannibal had actually fucked him through a wall.

Unfortunately, the room they had so abruptly entered wasn't empty. From his upside-down vantage point, Face could see BA and Murdock, seated at a table with a checkerboard, staring in shock at them. Face could only imagine how they must look -- half-naked, covered in sweat and other bodily fluid, tangled around each other.

"Gentlemen," he greeted courteously, unable to stop himself from grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"I ain't paying for that," BA informed them, pointing at the giant hole in the wall.

"Yeah, Face, was that part of your plan too?" Murdock asked.

Hannibal grinned, lifting himself off Face. "Nope. That plan was all mine."

Prompt: Hannibal/Face, erotic asphyxiation

"Give me back my goddamn cigars!"

"Now, now, Hannibal, you know that smoking is a very bad habit-"

"Now, Face!"

Face, needless to say, did not give them back. Shoving them in his pocket, he continued his desperate sprint throughout the quarters. He was two rooms away from the exit and was starting to think that maybe he had gotten away with this when a large weight suddenly came at his right side, knocking him to the floor. Instinctively, Face thrashed as Hannibal tried to hold him down and was having a hell of a time trying to do it. When pinning his arms failed, Hannibal went for the throat, laying a strong palm across it and squeezing just enough so that Face instantly stopped moving and went completely still.

Well, some parts of him did, anyway.

The initial panic of shit, this time Hannibal really will kill me wore off just in time for it to be replaced by the realization that Hannibal was straddling his hips and holding him down by the throat.

"Now," Hannibal said calmly, as if they weren't in this very awkward position. "I'll just be taking back my cubans, if you don't mind."

Face, of course, couldn't respond. All he could do was gulp, feeling his adam's apple bob against Hannibal's hand, as Hannibal reached into his pocket and brushed against something that definitely wasn't a cigar. The tiny sound Face made was cut off by Hannibal's hand squeezing reflexively in surprise.

"Well, then," Hannibal muttered, almost to himself. He removed his hand from that particular pocket as Face attempted to die of embarrassment. But instead of removing himself completely, he simply went into the other pocket, where the cigars actually were, and calmly withdrew them, placing one in his mouth, one hand still on Face's throat.

"Now, what do you suppose we do about this?" Hannibal asked rhetorically, squeezing both Face's dick and his throat. Face automatically tried to thrust his hips upward, but Hannibal's weight had him pinned down pretty well. "Normally, seeing as you stole my cigars, I'd just leave you here, but fortunately none of them got squashed, and it's the first time you've acted out all week....so..."

Face drew short, shallow breaths as Hannibal slowly unzipped his pants and reached inside, hand curling gently around his achingly hard cock, which contrasted with the rough hand around his throat. Face dug his fingers into the carpet as Hannibal worked him slowly and expertly.

"Hannibal-" he found himself whispering, voice rough. "Hannibal- please-"

His commander grinned. "Well, since you asked so nicely." With that, both hands tightened, and suddenly Face's vision whited out as he came harder than he ever had in his life, gasping for air and from pleasure. Suddenly, as he was trying to bring oxygen back to his brain cells and Hannibal was wiping his hand off on Face's pants, they heard a very familiar "what the-" and looked up to see BA and Murdock standing at the door, both looking very, very surprise. They took in the scene before them with the speed and intelligence of the highly trained soldiers that they were.

"And that," Murdock concluded, turning to BA, "is why I never steal Hannibal's cigars."

Prompt: Pike/Lynch, snark, tie-yanking, desk!sex, some d/s, knifeplay, Lynch reluctantly enjoying himself

"Hello, handsome."

"Jesus, Pike!" Lynch jumped slightly in his seat and looked up from the piles of paper he was sorting through. "What the fuck are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Europe or something!"

Pike shrugged. "I got bored. Figured I'd come see my favorite partner in crime." He glanced around the office. "Nice place you got here."

"If anyone ever saw us together-"

"Jeez, would you calm down? You think I'm stupid enough to let someone see me come in here?"

"How the hell did you get in here, anyway?"

"I thought that the CIA headquarters would have better security. I'm actually rather disappointed."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you didn't show up at two in the morning," Lynch grumbled, standing up from his rolling chair. He had been up for almost twenty-four hours and was currently running on coffee and aggravation. Pike showing up unexpectedly and highly illegally was, quite literally, the last thing he needed.

"Oh, stuff it. I didn't cross an ocean and several legal lines just to hear you bitch at me. If I wanted that, I would have gotten married."

Lynch rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Pike?"

The mercenary reached back and locked the door. "Oh, I think you know." With that, he crossed the room, grabbed Lynch by the -- expensive -- tie and pulled him flush against his body, kissing him roughly. Lynch hauled off and whacked him in the jaw, surprisingly hard for a desk guy.

Pike let go, shaking his head slightly to clear the ringing. Then he grinned.

"Do that again."

Lynch complied, throwing most of his weight behind the punch. Pike took it and grinned, grabbing Lynch by the tie again. This time, Lynch responded more positively -- but no less enthusiastically -- to the kiss. Lynch gasped when Pike nipped at his lower lip, none-too-gently, before sweeping his tongue into Lynch's mouth, instantly claiming domination, hands still tangled in his tie. He pressed forward, causing Lynch to back up until he hit the desk.

"I'm not a chick, you know," Lynch complained, even as he ran his hands under Pike's shirt and up his broad, muscular back.

"Of course you aren't, sweetheart," Pike replied, and Lynch could feel his smug grin as he sucked marks into Lynch's throat while his hands worked to undo the agent's belt. "After all, you've apparently got a dick."

"You are a dick," Lynch grumbled.

"You love it, baby."

Lynch wasn't sure about that, but his body was definitely enjoying the proceedings, much to his annoyance.

Right after Pike managed to undo his belt, he took his hands away, and Lynch made a noise halfway between a harrumph and a groan. Pike reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open. It glinted in the light. Lynch froze for one moment, but instead of catching him off-guard with an awesome makeout session and then stabbing him, Pike used it to slice Lynch's shirt off him.

"Hey!" Lynch protested. "First you wreck my tie, then you completely ruin my shirt? You had better buy me a new one."

"Bitch bitch bitch, that's all it is with you," Pike sighed. "Look, if you just shut up and let me fuck you, I'll buy you a new shirt, okay? And a tie."

Lynch gulped, but kept his voice steady. "Deal."

"Good." With that, Pike divested him of his pants and stripped off his own shirt, revealing a hard-worked torso covered in scars. Lynch blinked and, unable to help himself, ran his palms across it, feeling the raised lines under his fingers.

"Battle wounds, babe," Pike growled by way of explanation, going back to kissing him and groaning when Lynch dug his nails in. "Ahh- like to give it, like to get it, do you?"

Lynch smirked and twisted, opening his bottom desk drawer which contained, among other things, a bottle of lube for what he liked to refer to as "workplace emergencies." He was pretty sure this qualified. Pike took it and snorted, amused.

"Strawberry scented? You're kinkier than I thought."

"I'm full of surprises."

"I'll say," Pike agreed, suddenly using his considerable strength and speed to flip Lynch over, bending him across his own desk, causing papers to scatter everywhere.

"Do you- have any idea- how long it took to sort those?" Lynch said through gritted teeth as Pike slipped one slick -- and strawberry-scented! -- finger inside him.

"Should've thought of that before you agreed to this," Pike replied, shrugging. Lynch rolled his eyes and winced as Pike added another finger, hissing slightly.

"What? Can't handle it?"

"Of course I can handle it, douchebag," Lynch informed him. "Just haven't done it in awhile. Believe it or not, I'm not a total slut."

"Really? I would have thought you were even more of a bottom than that pretty-boy of Smith's," Pike told him.

"Oh my god, seriously?" Lynch sighed. "Bringing up work right now? Do you have any idea how much of a boner-kill that is?"

Pike reached around and grabbed Lynch's dick. "Doesn't seem to have hurt you any." Lynch rolled his hips, and Pike took that as a sign of readiness, because he removed his hands, grabbed Lynch's hips, and pushed himself inside. Lynch groaned, resting his head on his forearms as he adjusted to the sensation.

"You all right there, honey?" Pike asked, a thread of concern in his flippant tone.

"If you don't move faster," Lynch informed him. "I am going to kill you."

"As long as you don't file for divorce," Pike replied, complying with Lynch's request. He began thrusting, surprisingly gently at first, but slowly becoming rougher. Lynch gripped the edge of the desk, white-knuckled, as Pike's powerful hips drove him in faster. He bit his lip in an effort to silence the noises that threatened to burst from his throat -- no reason to inflate Pike's ego even further. But evidently, Pike could read body language, because he slipped one hand around and started to stroke Lynch's cock in the same rhythm he was riding his ass with. The desk, not used to such abuse, moved forward several inches, but Lynch neither noticed nor cared. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, he reached behind him and blindly grabbed the back of Pike's neck, silently urging him closer, harder, faster, and Pike did exactly that, all while trailing gently kisses and rough nips up and down Lynch's neck.

"That's it, babe," Pike murmured. "Show me how much you love me."

There might have been a dose of sarcasm in there, and normally Lynch would be able to come up with a snappy retort, but being fucked in his office by a world-class criminal wasn't really his definition of "normal." So instead, he came with a choked cry, spattering his desk. Almost before he recovered, Pike followed, biting down on Lynch's shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Better clean your desk before the janitors show up," Pike commented a few minutes later, as they were redressing.

"Fuck you," Lynch replied, without much venom.

"Maybe next time, sweetheart," Pike smiled. He looked at his watch. "I've gotta go -- important, ah, appointment to keep."

Lynch rolled his eyes. "Nice way to treat your wife."

Pike grinned, kissing him one last time and slipping something into his pocket. "See you later...wifey." With that, he was out the door, and Lynch was left staring at a very messy desk and wondering how he was going to get home without a shirt. Shrugging, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Wondering what it was -- earpiece for communication? tracking device? engraved bullet? -- he opened it, and his jaw dropped before clicking shut. He sighed.

Pike had given him a fucking wedding ring.

Next time he saw the stupid, smug, sexy bastard, he was going to punch him in his stupid, smug, sexy face. Again.

Total word count: 10,000. WOW.

Okay, quick, everyone! Back to the kink meme!

[info]a_team_kink

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Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
plingo_kat
Jul. 3rd, 2010 03:13 pm (UTC)
OH MY GOD, YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DID THE "UNFORTUNATE CLOSET PUN" FIC? IT IS FATE. That was my prompt, I love you forever, let us run away together and live in sin. (Er, not really, that kind of got away from me.)

But seriously. You are awesome. I've been spending a lot of time over at the A-team kink meme too (and The Losers one; have you seen that movie? It's great.) I see you've written lots of Hannibal/Face. :) There needs to be more of that in the world.
moon_watcher99
Jul. 7th, 2010 11:20 pm (UTC)
Holy crap. You have been responsible for, like, 90% of my favorite stories on the meme. I think I should be baking you cookies or something. XD
sapphirexpent
Jul. 8th, 2010 04:25 am (UTC)
oh dear god you wrote my two favorite fics in the entire mem. I love you, you are amazing.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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