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Honeymoon (Source: Deja Vu -Vol. 2 Nightmare Trilogy)
by : Rita Ractliffe

Rated R for very consensual explicit sex., and some language

Disclaimers:  Usual... Cannell owns them, I play with them and the extra background characters I have created are my own creation and copyrighted to me.

This is in reply to a "Challenge" I saw on the list:  "Here's the challenge: To write a  slash story about your favorite couple: [choices]  ÷"Hannibal and Maggie"...

[But how can this pairing be SLASH??? Maggie's a girl! ­ rita, perplexed]   (Maybe the writer meant, ADULT??) Enclosed is an excerpt from my novella, DEJA VU (2nd in "Nightmare"  trilogy)...   See what you think...

Hannibal and Maggie are in Bangkok, preparatory to leaving for mission in   Laos to rescue POW/MIAs there.   This is sort of a "honeymoon" for them before everything gets tough as nails. Definitely RRR rated.



...  He ensconced her in the new hotel room which was like a palace compared to the dinky rooms they'd been staying in recently.  Kissing her lightly, he said he had one more errand to run and left, promising to be back in about three hours.  "Take a nap, Maggie.  You're right, you do need some sleep.  May not get any tonight."  His roguish grin clued her that he definitely had plans for the evening.

 She took him up on the offer, and fell asleep as soon as she hit the plush bed.


 The phone's discordant ringing woke her up.  She jumped up, disoriented, forgetting where she was.  She looked at her watch to see what time it was as she reached for the phone.

 "Hi, Mags, listen, I got delayed.  Can you be down in the lobby in about forty-five minutes?  I'll meet you there."

 She nodded, and mumbled her acknowledgment.  She looked at the room clock only to realize she'd been out for about five hours.  *Wonder how many times Hannibal came back to see if I was awake?*  She smiled bittersweetly to herself.  He could see she was utterly wiped out, and had postponed his own pleasure for her good.  *God, I love that man.*

 She headed off to the shower to transform herself into a Îlady' for Smith to be totally proud of.

*************  Dressing, she remembered what he'd said earlier.  "Considering the last time I was here I didn't get to see anything of the night life, I think it's only fair this time around."  He hadn't quite said it, but Maggie caught the undercurrent there ­ there might not be a "next time" if their mission went sour.  When couched in those terms, how could she refuse?  She also had the feeling that Hannibal had gone to some effort to make it a special night.  Hue had been acting a little skittish when he saw his American friends again.  She unpacked the one luxury she'd allowed herself, a filmy red silk outfit,  skirt and blouse, that floated around her accenting all the right curves.  It seemed a silly thing to do, but it took minuscule luggage space, and Maggie was determined on having one night of softness before plunging into the jungle and becoming hard-as-nails again.

 It was a wise ploy.  When she came down the marble stairway at the posh hotel, slinking to the max, and saw him, she was pleased to see Hannibal was thrilled at the sight she made ­ bright red silk, basic black everything else.  He'd managed somehow to acquire a coat and slacks for the evening.  She was sure he hadn't packed them.  Probably courtesy of Len.    She remembered the whispered conversations between the two men earlier.  No matter ­ he cut a dashing picture as he led her through the lobby of their hotel.  She caught the covert stares of many of the Thais and tourists as they passed by.  For once in her life, she was happy -- no, dammit -- thrilled to be able to go out in public and flaunt her man ­ HER man, her very good-looking man ­ and not fear who might be around the corner, waiting for him, tracking him.  It was a heady feeling, one she realized with a shock she could grow to love.  //Tonight's ours, Hannibal - without a care in the world - you and me, my love.//

 Hours later, near midnight,  after a dinner to die for and many small shopping excursions and other stops along the way, they came to one last hotel on the banks of the Chao Phraya River.  The lounge was quiet, dark and intimate, unlike the garish nightlife in most of Bangkok.  The small, deserted dance floor had inspired Hannibal, and they danced for hours.  Maggie felt like she was in a dream; one she didn't want to wake from.

 Hannibal danced slowly in the dark, pulling Maggie deeper into his embrace.  As the lyrical sounds of Kenny Rogers' "LADY" emanated from the Karaoke, and floated around them, she felt the intensity emanating from him; feelings he couldn't always put into words.

 *©"You made what I am, and I am yours."* She felt his lips lightly brush the top of her hair, and shivered at the quiet, deep response he evoked in her.  *For so many years I thought I'd never find you... you have come into my life and made me whole...*  Hannibal squeezed her a little tighter as the words struck a deep personal chord in him. *Whatever... let me see you each and every morn, let me hear you whisper softly in my ear*.  That was her deepest secret desire:  to have him beside her for the rest of their lives...  *I've waited for you for so long -- Lady, your love is the only love I need -- beside me, is where I want you to be..."*  Hannibal looked down at her with a longing and intensity he never let her see normally.  The song was pulling out feelings he usually kept under careful emotional wraps.

 Maggie could sense his rapture; getting swept up the lyrics of the song.  She loved it too, always one of her favorites.  He was so terribly complex, this man, having suffered more in life than most, and yet had not been turned into an unfeeling automaton.  As the lyrics unfolded, Hannibal seemed unable to hold her close enough, but he wasn't suffocating her.  She looked up at him questioningly, "You okay, Hannibal?" not daring to ask more.

 He looked at her, his eyes glowing.  "Yeah.  Just hearing that song reminded me of one day when Len Drake and I were goin' at it."

 She raised her eyes to search his, deeply.  "Goin' at it?"

 He chuckled, self-deprecatively... "Yeah... remember, I thought you and he..." he let the words die.  "I mean I shoulda' known better, but I wasn't thinking too clearly back then."

 Maggie smiled archly up at him.  "Yeah, I do remember that."

Anxious to change that  subject as gracefully as he could, Hannibal continued, "Well.. anyway... that song was playing in the background; it's always been one of my favorites just on its own, and hearing it got me all mixed up inside... y'know.  I don't think I've heard it again since that day."  He released some of his hold on her.  "I'm sure glad to hear it now, this way... seems right somehow." and at that, he gave her a gentle twirl and spun her around.

 Maggie would have loved to pursue the conversation further, but she knew her man.  Hannibal had put the subject to rest, and you didn't argue with him.  She snuggled close to him as they continued to sway to the melodic tune.  She felt so secure, so safe right now.  She determined to push away the dark thought that kept trying to intrude - after tomorrow they would no longer be "safe".  Right now, tomorrow didn't count, and she wanted to make this night last forever.

 After a few more standards, Hannibal curled his arm around her waist and leaned down, whispering in a low, husky voice, "Wanna' go home, little girl?"

 Maggie smiled, almost wanting to tease him, but she felt the same ­ home...  the hotel - and bed ­ where more magic could be made.  She looked up at him, smiling "Yeah, big guy, that sounds like a great plan."  She squeezed his arm.

 Hannibal needed no more encouragement.  He left her for the briefest of moments, to settle with the barkeeper, and then they strolled back to their hotel.

 Maggie could feel the incipient desire rise in her the closer they got to the room.  Hannibal had the best idea - she was so glad she would have this romantic memory to carry her through the coming days.  As the door closed behind them and while Hannibal locked it, she drifted toward the bedroom.  He followed her, intercepting her before she was halfway through the room, to propel her instead nearer to the open window.  He switched the lights off and let the luxuriant moonlight outside fill the room.  She gazed out through the transparent curtains to see the shimmering lights of Bangkok twinkling like a million jewels in the distance.  The sheer drapes swayed softly in the gentle breeze that ruffled in, finally cooling the heavy, humid air.  His hands lightly rested on her shoulders from behind and gently pulled her backwards to him, imprisoning her in his embrace.

 "It's beautiful, Hannibal... just like a carpet of jewels."

 "Yeah, I really wanted you to see this from way up here.  When we used to come here for R&R, I always promised myself that if I survived the war, some day I would bring my special lady back here to see this."

 The pathos and irony weren't lost on her.  He'd survived alright, but for what?  To be branded a criminal by the same government that had sent him out on that damned mission?  Her thoughts were interrupted and a cat smirk began tugging at the corners of her mouth as his hands crept downwards, even while he spoke.  She could feel the strength and heat of him against her back; the hard, angular points of his belt buckle and shirt buttons became intensified to her oversensitized nerve endings, feeling each one individually pressing into her flesh.  The silk rustled faintly as his hands gently located the buttons of her blouse and, having undone them, sought entrance inside, the warmth leading him on. Tightly pinioned in his arms, she leaned back against his chest, closed her eyes and gave in completely, letting him roam.  Faster than she realized, the blouse was undone and at her feet.  Hannibal's slow, pliant fingers were gently stroking and caressing her breasts, while his lips roamed over her neck, wandering up to her earlobes, flicking them lightly with his tongue.  The heat rose in her like a wildfire and began to consume her.  "Hannibal," she moaned, trying to twist in his grasp so she could face him.

 "Shhhh," he whispered as his lips gently brushed the tops of her shoulders.  She shivered with reaction.  How the hell could he stay so controlled at times like these?  When Hannibal so desired, he stretched foreplay out for hours, driving her nearly mad in the interim.  His lips began to roam again, seeking out the curve of her neck, and then up, his tongue playing about, then searching on.  His hands had skillfully brought her orbs to hard, taut peaks of excitement.

 "Hannibal, please..." she moaned again, trying in vain to twist around.  He finally relaxed his grip so she was able to turn into his chest.  His own breathing was heavy and erratic, but he somehow kept the rhythm of his clever fingers steady as they began to remove the obstacles presented by her skirt and undies.  She reached up and began divesting him of his shirt, and once it was open, began to assault his nipples, bringing the tiny nubs up taut, causing him to catch a shocked intake of breath.  She felt his reaction to her elsewhere too.  She pressed her body closer to his, trying to fit his every curve with her own.  His hardness was momentarily confined, but no doubt ready.  As she slowly drew her fingernails down the sides of his chest, he groaned and twisted, both wanting the sensation and yet trying to escape the power of it.  Her hands reached their target.  The belt and zipper were quickly dispensed with and the trousers slid down.  Briefs were even less a problem.  She loved to undress him -  it was so seldom she got the chance... and it was always such a rewarding endeavor.

 Freed from the clothing, Smith's manhood sprang free.  She began to press herself against him, rubbing to and fro, grinding her hips to his every curve.  His hands had also edged downward since dispensing with the troublesome skirt, and between them and their impassioned explorations - they were almost to the point of no return.

 "Whoa, lady... goin' too fast."  Hannibal's husky voice was barely a whisper.  With a deft move, he suddenly swept her up in his arms and finished their journey to the bedroom, depositing her gently on the oversized bed, then joined her, looking at her, drinking in her beauty. Maggie lay there, quietly, all her hormones raging inside.

 Hannibal finally joined her, lying down beside her, to explore all of her with his clever fingers.  Finding she was more than ready for him, he gently nudged her thighs apart with his own leg and as she opened herself to him, body and soul, he gently slid into her welcoming center.  Adjusting himself comfortably, he reached for her and pulled her close, beginning a series of long, slow, gentle strokes.  He was in no hurry, wanting the night to last as long as possible.  As he continued his gentle rocking, his hands explored the rest of her universe.  His lips nuzzled her neck, following the lines of her muscles and nibbled and nipped all over her body.

 Maggie, already at a fever pitch of desire, desperately wanted a quicker, more energetic completion, but no amount of twisting or rubbing seemed to make him change his pace.  Her hands were tracking lines up and down his ribs, digging nails in as she found herself having little orgasm after little orgasm.  Hannibal never stopped his rocking, and yet he was building up his own pitch of desire.  He suddenly rolled over onto his back and pulled her with him.

 Sitting astride, Maggie's eyes sparkled.  //Now I've had some control!//  She began to grind her hips heavily, pulling him in deeper and deeper and stroking him internally with deep muscular control.

 Hannibal's look of pleasure began to take on a frantic appearance and he began thrusting heavily in rhythm to her pace.  He held tightly onto her hips and began an assault designed to bring both of them to the peak of intensity.  He felt her as she began to throb around him, losing her carefully maintained control.  With deep, driving strokes he felt her give, felt her body's desperate pulsating energy and held her as she immersed completely into the orgasm.  After a few moments, she recovered enough to give him the counterbalance he needed to bring his own climax to a soaring finale.

 As he pulsated in the throes of post coital excitement, she lay down the length of him, rejoicing in the feel of him, on her, around her and in her.  He finally pulled free and began to gently nuzzle her breasts. She was amazed.  Didn't he ever tire out?  Most men in their sixties were good for maybe one pop a night, and Hannibal just kept going. Just like that silly little pink rabbit...  She smiled to herself -- he has a lot of loving to make up for in his lifetime.  He isn't going to let a little thing like age keep him from taking every opportunity he could to catch up on that deficit!  [As his tongue found its way down her belly -- Maggie writhed slightly, luxuriating in every second of it.

**********  A couple of days later÷  

 Maggie smiled...  Hannibal's light kisses on her midriff were beginning to arouse sensations in her... as he bent once again to her...  A slight movement jarred her awake, out of her lovely dream.  Trying to adjust her eyes and awareness, she wondered what had awakened her.  She then looked to her side.  Hannibal wasn't there.  Her gaze flicked up to see the man standing by the open window, gazing out.  She looked back at the clock, 3:10 a.m.  What had disturbed him, she wondered.  He didn't seem to be agitated nor wary, so she took advantage of the rare opportunity to observe him unawares, watching him silhouetted in the silvery moonlight, for a long, long moment.  Hannibal leaned against the jamb, looking out absently, with a look of intense longing.  She let her eyes travel slowly down his form, drinking in his beauty.  The moon lit and high-lighted his firm muscles, his shape, his manhood.  She smiled rakishly for a moment remembering their earlier evening.  It was so unusual to see Hannibal this tranquil and still.  She continued to gaze at him as he relaxed against the windowsill, the moonlight incandescing his hair to an almost ethereal shimmer.

 Finally, her hungry glances sated, she quietly got out of the bed, went over to him, wrapped her arms lightly around his waist, clasping her hands across his abdomen, and gently lay her head against his shoulder blades.  It didn't startle him.  "Maggie... I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you."

 The small smile still played about her mouth.  "It's okay, Hannibal. What's wrong sweetheart?"

 He wrapped his arms about hers, pulled her tighter to him.  "I don't know.  I just got this overwhelming melancholy.  I felt so.... out of place, out of step."  He hugged her arms.  She delicately kissed a couple of the prominent scars that were near her lips.  He shivered slightly.  "Sometimes I feel like I'm not part of anything real anymore... just on the outside watching in."

 He disengaged one of her hands, raised it to his lips, kissed it and then pulled her around under his upraised arm to face him.  He just looked down at her very intensely for a long moment.  Maggie couldn't even begin to guess at what was going on in that mind.

 "There are so many things I wish I could have done... married a good woman..." he bent down and kissed the top of her head tenderly, "had a home, a lifetime career... an honorable one," he snorted softly, "a child or two... but now, time is running out.  Realistically, it ain't gonna happen."

 She tensed slightly at the reference to an heir, but got her control back instantly.  "Well, I'm still young enough, Smith.  I've told you I want your baby.  You're the one who keeps it from happening."

 "Too many complications."  Ignoring the obvious zinger, he continued. "Thank you for being here, Maggie... giving me something to hold onto." He bent down and kissed her, slowly, sensuously.  She felt the passion start to rise again in him.

 "Hannibal, I'll always be here for you.  Don't ever forget that. Whatever you need, I'll be here for you."  She didn't know if it was what he needed to hear, but she hoped so.

 He pulled away, looked down at her again, a glimmer of twinkle beginning to gleam in his eyes.

 "God, Smith, do you have any idea how devastating you are dressed in moonlight?"

  He smiled at her.  "Devastating?  That doesn't sound too good.  Maybe I'd better work on my image."  He reached down and gently stroked one breast.

 Maggie felt the current jolt inside her.  "You know what I mean. You're always watching me, every move I make.  It's nice for a change to be able to watch you in such flattering light."

 "Keep it up, Sullivan, and you're gonna' give me a swelled head."

 "Going to?!  That's news to me.  Besides, I think you're already more'n half way there," she added seductively, as her hand brushed and lingered against his rising sex.  Hannibal was at full-beam smile now.  God! What the moonlight does to his smile, with everything else!  [interject from TRIP, ...the smell of him, etc.]  Maggie felt her knees getting weak just from the sight of him.

 She reached out and tenderly took the swollen organ in her palm and ever so gently stroked the velvety length of it with her fingertips. Her unexpected caress caught him short, as a gasp escaped him.  She continued her light manipulations, reveling in the sensuous feeling of it.  She felt him shudder against her.  "Maggie..." his voice was husky, a moan of sudden needful agony.  She slid to her knees and then began to utilize her lips and tongue in stimulating him.  Hannibal arched back from her, the sensations wildly running through him now, his groan of pleasure mixed with the frustration of not being able to control where he was being led.  She reached out, and tightly wrapped her hands around his buttocks, pulling him closer to her frantically searching, suckling mouth.  He was lightheaded from her manipulations and desperately needed to get some control over her.  Without warning, he bent down, suddenly lifted her, disengaging her from her labors of love, and carried her back to the bed.  She writhed in his grip, desperate to complete what she'd started.

 Hannibal was having none of it.  Trying to get his breathing back under control, he slid his hands down her sides and then grasped her thighs and held on tightly to them as he inched his way down, relocating his angle of attack.  He began to slowly, maddeningly explore her female center with his tongue.  It sent her into paroxysms of twisting frenzy.   He wrapped his arms tightly around her hips to keep her from escaping his questing mouth.  Maggie was totally out of control and could not restrain her wild undulations.  Hannibal hung on gamely, finally bringing her to a wild peak of orgasm she could not give enough vent to.  He held on tightly to her as she whiplashed across the bed. After she peaked and had begun to calm down he raised himself and entered her, in a flash of light and fury.  Swift, strong strokes brought him to the high plateau he was so arduously seeking and his own orgasm was enormous, nearing black-out intensity.  In helpless desperation, he continued with involuntary strokes as his body began to wind down from its unbelievable heights.  His breathing was hoarse and racked with sobs, as he tried to catch gulps of air.

 Maggie stroked his sides, his arms, trying to help him down from the heights.  He finally regained some semblance of normalcy, and placing his elbows so he wouldn't hurt her, finally gave in to the collapse that was so imminent.  His cheek brushed hers as he lay to one side of her. She felt the welcome weight of him, and wrapped herself around him, trying to keep him, not wanting to lose him yet.  Unable to pull free, Hannibal relaxed totally, and when he had control of his errant body, lifted his head to look at her, giving her a long kiss, and then pushed away.  She knew, regretfully, she had to let him go.  As he left her, she suddenly felt a pang.  "God, Hannibal, I wish I could keep you here forever."

 He made no answer, just lay next to her, still breathing erratically. Finally, he ventured a comment.  "I don't think we'd survive it, Maggie."  His unexpected humor got her attention and she looked into his eyes, to see them twinkling with merriment, while the deeper intense love for her sparkled there too.

 "Yeah, but what a helluva way to go, Colonel."  She reached up and stroked his jawline, spending several long moments in non-verbal, peaceful lovemaking.  She saw Hannibal's eyes droop slightly and knew he was nearly gone.  She continued her gentle manipulations until he finally relaxed, deeply asleep.  She felt her own eyes grow heavy and smiled contentedly.

 Later, she awoke again, to see him there beside her, lying in her arms, peacefully asleep.  She gazed down at the beloved face.  He looked so serene it was hard to imagine the adrenaline-powered lifestyle he normally led.  Maggie sighed softly to herself.  She realized that she'd seen a very fragile side of Hannibal's inner soul, and she was grateful for it.  Thanking God for having brought her this extraordinary man, she drifted off to sleep herself.

******** next morning:

 When the faint, faraway sounds of the waking city intruded in on her pleasant dreams, Maggie awoke with a start.  For a moment she forgot where she was and tensed up when she couldn't recognize her surroundings.  Then she looked at the man lying beside her, his arm draped loosely over her.  Hannibal ...   Then it began filtering back. Bangkok...  They weren't in Bad Rock...  She looked at his eyes to see him, awake, gazing at her with the tenderest of looks.  He reached up and gently brushed away stray wisps of hair from her eyes.


 "Mornin', lady."

 "Mornin', Hannibal." she sighed contentedly as she snuggled into his embrace.  He continued his gentle tracing of her features.  Then he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead.

 "Time to be getting up, Maggie.  D-Day is here." His voice was calm and even, in his ever practical manner.

 As he moved away to sit up, she grabbed for him.  "Don't go, Hannibal. I'm ... scared .... " her liquid eyes searched out his.  He leaned back towards her, concerned.  "Hey, lady .... it's okay.  Anyway, it's a little late for cold feet, Sullivan."  But he didn't discourage her clinging to him.  Maggie was one of the strongest women he'd ever met, emotionally, and for her to admit any fear was serious and not to be treated lightly.

 "I'm so afraid I'm going to lose you this time... silly, huh?" Her eyes were glistening with repressed tears.

 Hannibal was deeply touched at this show of concern.  "Nah, doc. Would take more'n that to get me outta' your hair." But he lay quietly, gently stroking her back, her shoulders, reinforcing his love and support of her as she held on to him tightly.  After a few minutes as her hands loosened their intense grip, he sensed she'd regained her composure. "C'mon, Maggie.  We have to go.  Don't think about it.  You can't.  You can't allow yourself that luxury.  With the way my life goes, if I ever sat down and really thought about what could happen to me, I'd never walk out the door.  If it's our time to check out, it's time.  Nothin' we can do will change that.  Just enjoy every moment to the fullest." He placed his hand under her chin and raised it, to look into her swimming eyes.  "Maggie, you've brought so much into my life that I never even knew was missing.  If I do buy it, I won't regret a minute of it -- having known you.  I can never make that up to you.  But don't drop out on me now.  I need you, lady...  this time, more than ever.  I need the guys, but it's different.  We've been through so much together.  We're linked for life, I'm afraid.  But you're part of it too, now..." he shrugged helplessly.

 She nodded silently, trying to pull herself together, angry at herself that she'd slipped and allowed this breach of her control to show. Hannibal depended on her sensible nature, and with this mission coming up, he needed every bit of sanity behind him he could get.


Honeymoon by Rita Ractliffe



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