Send Comment Card

Please Send This Author Comments!
This page last viewed: 2017-12-14 and has been viewed 2637 times

Darkest Hour

Darkest Hour

by witchbaby

 

Rating: NC-17

Copyright February 2003

Disclaimer: The A-Team and its characters belong to Stephen J. Cannell and Universal. I make no profit off of this. Title and inspiration come from Arlo Guthrie's song "Darkest Hour."

Warning: Slash, man on man loving, some angst.

Summary: A dark night in Langley and Face slips away to be with Murdock.

 

Thank you to Mel and SnowFlake, my tireless betas, who went through this story so many times for me that they must have it memorized by now. <g> Could never do this without you guys. Thank you!

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

I stare up at the ceiling through the darkness and admit defeat. Sleep is not forthcoming tonight. Feels like I never sleep. I think I kind of lost the ability to sleep alone somewhere along the line. Not a good thing. It's not like nights with him are something to be counted upon. They're few and far between, as a matter of fact, and most times, even when I fall asleep with him in my arms, his side of the bed is cold and empty come morning.

 

Not his fault. Not mine either. Things are just that way now. Hell, seems like they've always been that way. Those stolen moments have to be enough. Things are never simple with him, never simple with us. Maybe I like it that way.

 

But I'm tired of going to bed alone. My brain's not willing to shut down and the ceiling in the darkness is my only companion as the night ticks slowly by.

 

I'm trying to be okay, being alone. It's hard, knowing he's out there, sleeping by himself. I mean, I'm pretty sure he's sleeping by himself. Of course he is. I don't think it's just me that he doesn't have time for. I think it's anybody. He's so lost in himself these days, trying to find something he needs, I guess, that it gets hard to see him sometimes. He loves me, I know, but still. . .it's not easy.

 

I turn over, pull the blankets closer. It's chilly in here, the radiator no measure for the cold outside. January in Langley; why did I ever come here? To follow them, of course. To follow him. Could never not follow him. He makes it hard, sometimes. Real good at not leaving any tracks. But I follow him, because we need each other. Funny that that's not something he could say. It doesn't come easy for him, to need me. But he does.

 

BA wants to warn me, I know. Wants to tell me not to get too close to our Faceman (though I'm already too close. Damn, I was too close the moment I laid eyes on him, young as he was, all blue eyes and blond hair and way too fucking cocky for his own good). I can tell BA wants to warn me away, can see it in his eyes when he catches me getting lost in Face, even as Face is walking away. But I know too well what the traps are, big guy, *where* the traps are. I been trained real good 'long *those* lines, and ain't nothin' you can do or say to stop me.

 

 

The blankets sure aren't keeping me warm, and my eyes stay open in the darkness. Nothing to see here, move along now, sir. But still. My eyes stay open, because sleep ain't happenin'. Not tonight. The bed's too cold (too empty), the night's too dark, my arms are too empty. I struggle with the blankets again, roll over onto my back, try to fix the pillow so it's softer. I freeze as the door to the bedroom opens suddenly, silently. Whoever's there can't see me in the dark, I know, and I should be able to get the jump on...

 

It's him. I know it before I can even really see more than just a silhouette in the doorway. He poses there, almost, knowing that I'll know it's him. Knowing that I won't be able to tear my eyes away. The tilt of his head, keeping his hair out of his eyes. His cologne on the air, drifting over to me. Grey Flannel, sharp and subtle. He doesn't wear it very often, only when he's on the make, and the scent of it goes straight to my groin.

 

How does this man do it, make me hard just by standing there in the doorway? It makes me despair getting over him, if he should leave me. How could I ever not want him, how could that even be a possibility? Then he moves, breaking the pose. Moves into my room and closes the door behind him with a snick. I breathe real careful, breathe in the scent of him, my blood already racing. What's he doing here?

 

"What are you doin' here, Face?"

 

My eyes slowly adjust and I can see him in the dim light of the streetlight outside. He just smiles at me. One of his real smiles, open and easy. But he's teasing, it has an edge to it. He's playing a game here, but it's a me-'n-him game, and damn, I want in. I wanna play, real, real bad. My cock is incredibly hard. Dammit, it shouldn't be possible. He hasn't laid a hand on me, not a finger, hasn't even done *anything*, except walk in the door.

 

"Face," I say, and try to regulate my breathing, thinking that somehow he won't know, won't be able to tell what it is that he's done to me. At your mercy, Faceman. "You couldn't sleep, either?"

 

No answer.

 

He stands there, watching me, and he knows, oh, he knows just how hard I am. I can't take my eyes off of him. He stands there, and I run my eyes over him as I sit up real slowly in bed. Those black jeans. . .he must have poured himself into them, they're so damn tight. A tight black t-shirt completes the effect, making him look dangerous. . .well, as dangerous as he gets, with that dirty-blond hair, so thick and smooth, those blue eyes that glint a little in the dim light, making my heart pound. That smile with the edge to it, getting fiercer now as he steps closer to me.

 

I watch him move, watch the way his jeans cling. I run my eyes up his legs to where the length of his cock is visible under the tight, strained denim. How the *hell* did he get himself into those jeans? There oughta be a law, I tell you...he's a hazard to my health. I swallow and watch him some more.

 

He never answers my question. Doesn't say a word as he moves closer still, makes sure he draws my eyes right along. As if there were anything else to look at. As if I could tear my eyes away.

 

God.

 

I'll never get over this man.

 

"Face," I breathe. "Ain't they gonna be wonderin' where you are?" Better not to be too specific about *who*. Any mention of Stockwell's name is gonna kill the mood.

 

He just shakes his head slowly. He's standing close now, and I can see his chest moving as he breathes. The want is stark in his eyes, and I know for sure there ain't no way I could ever deny him anything. I know he could hurt me, know he could leave me. Know things are so twisted and turned here that there ain't no for sure, ain't no for certain, not when it comes to us together. But right now, with him here in front of me, I want him so bad that I ache, and there ain't no way I can say no to him.

 

Don't wanna say no to him. Don't wanna say anything but yes. Yes. Take me and do with me what you will. I'm no witless maiden, but I'll give myself to you anytime you ask (anytime), and sometimes even when you don't. Words ain't necessary, not when you got that particular look in your eyes. I'm yours, Facey, and you know it.

 

"C'mere, Face." I reach out for him. I need him so bad.

 

Oh, he knows who belongs to who, all right. He stands just far enough away that even my long arms won't quite reach him. The light from the window frames him, holds him, outlines his every move as he strips off that black t-shirt, smoothly bends to remove his boots. The light traces his curved back, skin silvery in the dimness, and smooth. He straightens, easily, and regards me in the dim light, his eyes steady. Watches me watching him (damn, Face, you just don't let up at all, do you?), as he brings his hands to his waistband, slowly unbuttons the top of his jeans.

 

My breathing sounds very loud in the room all of a sudden. The only thing louder is my heart beating in my ears, and I wonder if I might actually have a heart attack before he gets those jeans undone. He pauses (of course) with just that top button open, his hands poised there, watching me. Waiting for something, I don't know what. My heart to stop? I think I stop breathing for a second as he hesitates. Then he tilts his head to one side, smiles a half-smile, and draws the zipper slowly down.

 

My eyes follow the zipper on that long trip down, and I breathe a sigh of relief as he eases those jeans off (no room under there for anything but commando, was there, Facey?). The light follows him, follows the curve of his body, though he seems to hardly move; he's just suddenly here in bed beside me. Pressed up against me, warm skin and hard cock and arms around me, drawing me close to him. Close to him, and I breathe it all in, his scent, how near he is, how he allows my arms around him, my lips upon him, me with him.

 

I'm caught but good here, and damned if I want to get out.

 

Not with him here beside me in my bed. Mine. He gives himself to me completely when he's here, gives me everything he has to give. Kissing him is like breathing, like everything I need, everything I'd ever want. He's on his back, draws me down to him. I'm on top, but he's the one in control. An aggressive bottom, how'd I ever end up with this complication? I forget about that, forget about everything, as he finds my lips again, kisses me, tongue slipping into my mouth, hot and seeking. His legs and mine are entwined, moving, shifting. Till he wraps his legs warm around my waist.

 

Still not a sound from him, though I'm imploring him as I kiss him, begging, asking, loving. "Face...want you. Damn..." I hiss as he slides up against me. He knows just what he's doing to me. Knows that he's got me real good, and that I'm not looking to be released. He pulls back just a little, runs his tongue, hot, over my lips, silencing me. His eyes are open and there's something in there that's dark, that's scared. There are no words for it, but it shakes me a little. What he wants, what he needs, it scares him so bad sometimes, and I can't figure out why, can't do anything but hold him close.

 

He's warm and hard beneath me, drawing me down so close to him I can feel his heart beating against my chest. I move my hands over him recklessly, touching him while he allows it, because it doesn't happen often enough for me. Slide my hands down his sides and back up, feel that warm flesh, his hips restlessly moving against mine. His hands hold me close and he hisses as our cocks slide together, as I move against him and he against me.

 

I slip a hand back up his body, let it get tangled in his hair. He moans deep in his throat and I know he likes that. My other hand anchors itself on his hip, gripping hard enough to leave a mark. His eyes flash in the darkness and I know he likes that, too. God. I bend my neck, let my tongue glide over his shoulder, his neck. The sensitive spot up by his ear. He bucks against me, and I groan. Move to kiss his mouth, and his tongue meets mine, hot and willing.

 

Okay, this is gettin' desperate. I need him real bad, and he needs me. I pull my mouth from his, and he arches his neck, seeking to recapture my lips. My voice is rough as I say, "Face, please. . ."

 

He opens his eyes in the darkness and stills, looks at me. He's breathing in gasps, and he knows how bad I want it. Feel like I've been hard forever, like I'm right on the edge. My skin is burning everywhere he touches me, and I want him real, real bad. He knows. Likes me like this, likes being the one to get me like this. Knows he can keep me on the edge for as long as he likes.

 

But he wants it as bad as I do, and he licks his lips. Then turns over slow, his body sliding against mine. I groan as he settles himself, lifts his hips so that my cock falls into the valley of his ass. Hot flesh surrounding me is almost too much, and I gasp. I'm glad he wants it like this; like I do, can't stand to wait for it. Don't think I could pull away, could relinquish this contact. We're close here, so close, skin against skin. I move when he moves, when he breathes, and I love it. Love him, too damn much.

 

I have my lips right up against his ear, my hand on his hip, and I whisper, "Jesus, Face, you're so fucking *hot*." He blows his breath out in a gasp, and I nudge my cock between his ass cheeks, press right up against him. Jesus. "You want me, Face, don't ya?" I breathe. "I know you do. You won't say it, nope, but you want me."

 

He's ready for me, real ready. He's so hot, so goddamn hot 'n slick, my cock leakin' enough precome that I'm more than ready to slide right in. He lifts his ass, presses back, and that's it. I hold myself up with one hand, hang onto his hip with the other. Push forward, push in. Slick heat surrounding me, and damn, it's good. Further, till I'm all the way in, till he's gasping for breath against the pillow, his hands fisted in the sheets.

 

I'm up against him, sweaty, close, clinging. His gasps making me hotter than I thought possible, his body around me tight and close. Jesus. I slide my arms under his, wrap them up around his shoulders. Pull him even closer. Can never get close enough. Press my cheek against his back, and we meet each other with an even rocking motion. Right on the edge, his moans into the pillow steady and sweet.

 

There ain't no air in the room, no air to breathe, just slick sweat and heated movement, Face beneath me asking for it, wanting it, no words, only need. And I thrust into him, so steady, and it's all heat and god this ain't gonna last long. I been hard since I saw him in the doorway, and I want this, want him, hard and fast and desperate, he makes me so, so very desperate, even when I hold him in my arms...

 

Not long at all and never mind *close* to the edge, I'm over it, coming hard inside of him, pulsing, feeling like my heart's gonna explode, like I'm gonna pass out. I feel him jerk up against me, his body even tighter than before, and he gasps out my name, one word full of love and regret.

 

The sense of loss I feel, even as I collapse against him, hold him so close I'm not sure he can breathe, is almost unbearable. I can't explain it, there are no words, but the dark feels closer than it did before. I don't want to separate from him. But I let myself slip out of him, slide to one side so I don't crush him. We lie there next to each other in the dark and the space between us seems palpable. We're side by side, both on our stomachs, facing each other.

 

His breathing is settling down slowly, and his eyes are wide as he looks at me. I just watch him for a moment, then put my arm across his shoulders, pull him close for a kiss. A sweet kiss, a steady one, and I make it last. Till I don't have the breath to hold it anymore. I release him, and look at him as he lies there so close to me. Eyes luminous in the moonlight. I don't say a word, and neither does he. I just turn over and pull him close, and he lets me. Rests his head on my shoulder and slips to sleep. I hold onto him and watch the ceiling for a long, long time before I fall asleep.

 

~fin~

 


Darkest Hour by witchbaby

 

 


Send Comment Card

Please Send This Author Comments!