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This page last viewed: 2017-10-17 and has been viewed 1012 times
- Leaning / Eye of The Beholder / Dreams
Rating: PG for m/m slash (mostly implied) and a coupla naughty words
Summary: Three responses (only 'bout a year late) to the Kisses Sweeter than Wine Challenge. I may write more. That long one wore me out! I crave brevity.
Feedback: is nummy.
Disclaimer: The A-Team does not belong to me, though if they were I would provide them all with Chap Stick in the winter months. All characters, alarums, excursions and concepts belong to Stephen J Cannell and Frank Lupo.
Sometimes Face wondered what Murdock would do if he didn't pull back.
Murdock loved to spin around like the Tasmanian devil and wear away Face's solid ground. Buzz saw his way through Face's carefully constructed walls.
What would he do if he spun too close, nose touching nose, expecting Face to push him away, step out of reach--
And instead, Face leaned forward?
Fell into the buzz saw?
Let those walls get chewed to ratshit?
He could picture the brown eyes widening, the mouth opening slightly in shock as Face moved in, like he had on dozens of women, only there was no surprise, no jazz with them--
He'd trace that pouty lower lip with his tongue...Uh-uh. Too much. How about swooping down and bulldozing him senseless? Wrong.
Yeah. Perfect. A gentle press at first, so that Murdock wouldn't be sure it had happened. Molasses-slow, Face'd draw back and wait the space of one heartbeat, two. Then he'd return to nibble his way through Murdock's lips, discovering the softness and the suppleness and the heat.
"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, muchacho?"
Face smiled. Pressed his foot to the 'Vette's accelerator.
"Oh, just--leaning," he said.
-~-~-~ Eye of the Beholder-~-~-~
Murdock scrambled out of bed and raced for the bathroom. Must be serious if Face broke a Commandment. He burst through the door without hesitation.
Face stood in front of the mirror, playing with his hair.
"Wha's the matter with you?" Murdock demanded, then got a little distracted by Face's toes. If Face knew how sweet and vulnerable he looked with bared feet, he'd wear mukluks twenty-four hours a day.
Face inspected a strand of honey-blond hair and screwed up his mug like a pissed-off Pekingese. "It's gray!"
Murdock tried to breathe. "Where?" He stepped closer.
Face pointed. "There!"
"I don't see--waittaminute." He took the hair from Face, then drifted off for a sec, lost in the softness. "Yeah, there's a couple."
"A couple?" Face began a frantic reconnaissance on the rest of his head. Made that huffy sort of moaning whine.
"Tell you what," Murdock murmured, his voice diving low.
Face stopped moving.
"Give you a kiss for every gray hair you find."
Murdock held his breath while Face considered. Their gazes met in the mirror. Face's pupils were big.
Leaning forward, Murdock pressed his lips to Face's hair.
Face closed his eyes.
"Murdock, wake up!"
The brown eyes snapped open. Took an eternity to focus.
"What was it?" Face's hand stroked his forehead, smoothed back his hair. "Were you in the camp? Did seeing Lin again--"
Murdock shook his head. "Naw, wasn't that. It was somethin' that happened on the farm." He moved back, and Face sat.
Murdock sighed. "One of the hands, one year, he got himself caught in the threshin' machine. Stupid accident, shouldn'ta happened. He made it, but his hand was chewed to pieces. They took it off in the hospital, later. I never saw him again, though I heard Gran say that Grandpa gave him some money."
"What made you think of it?"
"I dunno." His eyes narrowed. "Yes, I do. First time I flew a dustoff, I brought back a guy who looked just like him." He took a breath, let it out. "He was missin' a lot more pieces, though."
They stared at each other in the dark.
Face stood without a word and pulled back the covers. Murdock rolled over, and Face moved close, the way he'd done in the camp. Threw an arm over him like a lifeline, his lips touching Murdock's bare shoulder.
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