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mash_slashI have...slash. Yes, slash. Please read the headers before plunging in.
Title : Rooftop In A Thunderstorm Row Missing The Point
Author: Hawkeye’s Martini
Rating: NC17
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Pairing & Genre: Hawkry/Hawpper – romance...kind of.
Feedback: Is bad when it’s loud.
Archive: Should be spelled with a ‘k’. Arkive. Yeah.
Email: Two.
Warnings: Yes. (Explicit slash and language.)
Summary: Hawkeye wants passes to Tokyo for himself and Trapper. Henry says no. Hawkeye doesn’t think “no” is an acceptable answer.
Disclaimers: Characters and setting not mine. Flamboyant misuse of character’s personalities, mine.
A/N: Slash-tastic! Thanks to the awesome beta reader![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nosferatuvoice, who is rewarded with much Hawkry.
This story was inspired by this screencap.
With yellow, red and roomy food, and quivered
crouching on a golden cushion
undressed himself to disappear
through an infinity of pleasure
and smiled to free the running me
with "Am I my brother's keeper?"
his meek hand on devil’s gloves
shaping running blood
“If I let you two out of here to Tokyo for five days, I’m stuck with two Majors that I can’t hardly tell apart!” Henry retorted. He slammed his hand down on the desk and then leaned over to holler at the door. “Radar!”
“We’re not expecting any big number of wounded for at least a week,” Hawkeye said soothingly. “Tell Frank he can put up flags in the latrines. Margaret will supervise, then they’ll go salute each other.”
“But he’s a married man.” Trapper pretended to be shocked.
“So’re you.” Hawkeye murmured back at him. Trapper shrugged nonchalantly.
Henry was shaking his head. “But what if we get more wounded? They don’t always put it on the calendar, you know. Then I’m out two surgeons! One of you can go, but not both!”
“I’m afraid that won’t do it.” Hawkeye said seriously, with a half-shake of his head. They seemed to be having a staring contest while Trapper watched – he’d seen Hawkeye get his way before, and when Henry ceased to protest verbally, there was no longer any question.
But Hawkeye liked to seal the deal.
Finally, he spoke. Softly, with a slight look of contempt in his eyes and a look of amusement on his face. “Sign the passes, Henry.”
The C.O. shook his head again, sitting back in his chair. “Can’t do it, Hawk.” he sighed. Trapper pressed his lips together – Hawkeye had said they were going to Tokyo come hell or high water, and this seemed to be one or the other. He was sure he’d be asked to leave the room in another moment.
Hawkeye looked at Henry for a few seconds longer, then he smirked. He turned to Trapper, sitting to his left. “See you back at the Swamp, Trap?” he said.
Trapper almost rolled his eyes, instead he opted to sigh noticeably. He got up out of the chair and exited the office, stopping when he saw Radar beating the hell out of his typewriter. “Think they can hear that all the way to ‘I’ Corps.” He commented. “Screw the paperwork, they know Morse code, right?” Radar didn’t answer, he just looked up sulkily and inserted another sheet of paper, pounding on the keys so hard it was all that could be heard in the small room. Trapper nodded, remembering that the corporal wasn’t called “Radar” for no reason. He figured Radar had heard plain enough Henry’s call for him and didn’t go in for that same reason.
Meanwhile, Henry had sat back up in his chair after Trapper had exited. He knew just as well as Trapper and Radar what Hawkeye was up to, better than anyone else perhaps, but that did nothing to quiet his sudden anxiety. Hawkeye hadn’t moved yet and was still looking at the older man, turning the glass of scotch in his hand around and around slowly. Henry wondered how a man could look bored and interested at the same time, but there it was. Of course, if nothing else could be said about Hawkeye Pierce, it was that he was a living bundle of contradictions. He was maniacal and serious, he was sad and laughing like hell, he was angry and grinning like a loon. He liked women, and...
‘Well, he doesn’t like me,’ Henry thought to himself, and was surprised that it disappointed him. ‘He just wants to get the passes so he can go to Tokyo with the one he does like’. Hark! Was that jealousy for Trapper McIntyre he harbored? The fool! He sighed and shifted uncomfortably under the steady, unblinking gaze. He wanted to say something, or for Hawkeye to do something – the silence was unbearable.
Hawkeye, of course, was enjoying it. He sipped from his glass occasionally, but mostly he watched Henry fidget and laughed inside. After a couple of minutes had gone by, he judged it to be enough, and leaned forward, setting his glass down. He sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “Those passes are important, Henry.” He said suddenly and clearly, and Henry twitched.
“What do you need ‘em for?” he asked carefully.
Hawkeye laughed. “Recreation.”
“You can recreate here, you know.”
He smirked. “Not everyone has a Radar, Henry. What’s it going to take for those passes, hmm?”
“You can’t have both of them.”
“It’s kind of necessary; I don’t think they’ll let me sit on his lap on the plane. Neverminding the fact that would make one of us AWOL.”
“You’ve always been AWOL.” Henry tapped his skull.
Hawkeye laughed again. “Right. Where are the pass forms?”
Henry hesitated. “In that cabinet...but you’re not supposed to be in there.”
“Just my hand. But we don’t tell anyone about that.” Hawkeye winked as he got up and rummaged through the filing cabinet against the wall, pulling out a folder and then two blank pass forms. “Ah ha,” he said softly in triumph. He closed the drawer, went around to the left side of the big desk, and laid them infront of Henry. “B-L-A-K-E.” he instructed.
Henry gave him a dark Look and pushed them off to the side, out of the centre of his desk. “No.”
“All right then, one.” Hawkeye smiled widely and firmly pushed one of the forms back.
Henry sighed. He knew he was losing. “For you or McIntyre?”
“Trapper. You’ll sign mine later.”
“I will?” Henry didn’t look up as he quickly scribbled in Trapper’s name, rank, serial number (he had both of theirs memorized by the first month after the many written complaints and othersuch Majors Burns and Houlihan had forced on him), destination, and length of effectiveness for the pass. He heard the clank of glass against glass and knew Hawkeye had helped himself to the liquor cabinet – why bother with a lock and key? Where was the key? It was supposed to be kept in the top drawer of the – oh. Henry sighed as he watched Hawkeye jiggle the drawer so it opened and then drop the key back inside.
“All done? Good.” Hawkeye swiped the pass out of Henry’s hands, folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. “I’ll help you with this one.” Before Henry could protest, his pen was stolen and Hawkeye hastily filled in the blanks with his own information, leaving the CO’s signature line blank.
“Waste of a pass form.” Henry almost sang.
“We’ll see.” Hawkeye grinned.
Henry sometimes wondered about Hawkeye Pierce. He was smarter than most thought, even those who’d seen him perform (surgery) or had heard him speak. Henry also wondered at the clumsy grace he had. Tall and thin, his limbs were too long and he was lanky, he also had very poor posture and seemed to hunch over when he stood upright. Even with all that, he could move faster than Henry could reckon at times. Take right now, for example – one moment Henry was telling him he was wasting a pass form and watching him smirk, and the next he had already fallen to his knees, deft fingers loosing the older man’s belt and trouser buttons with practiced ease. Henry’s body sprang to life immediately (which was something he’d tried to not wonder about, not when it took Leslie several minutes to get him worked up) but he hesitated.
“Hawk – “ he began.
“Just shut up.” Hawkeye murmured, shifting on his knees to get more comfortable. He pushed Henry’s shirt up and slipped one hand underneath while he bent his head down, pressing his lips to the soft skin just above the line of Henry’s shorts. Henry felt something brushing over his stomach and lightly placed his hand ontop of Hawkeye’s head, feeling soft black hair. He could also feel the younger doctor’s other hand, tugging at the waistband of the shorts as if they were a garment solely made to be in his way. Another second and Henry was free, free for all the air to – wait a moment! Lovely freedom was confused with another kind of confinement, but it was warm and moist and incredibly soft. Henry hissed softly, trying not to make much noise, although he knew if Radar was out there, he didn’t need ears to know what was taking place.
Hawkeye knew just want to do and how to do it, and he went about it casually and earnestly, going down and up. Down, Henry’s cock went down his throat, and up, his lips trailed up the shaft and he sucked lightly on the head, licking it while Henry shuddered. Henry’s right hand was still atop Hawkeye’s head but his left gripped the side of his chair, hoping he could hold out against this exquisite torment. He knew Hawkeye wouldn’t stop until he had a mouthful, which, with that mouth, normally wasn’t very long. He let out a low moan.
Hawkeye trailed his tongue all the way up, lifting his eyes and staring at Henry unblinking as he swirled his tongue around. Henry couldn’t break that gaze nor stop his hard, heavy breath; he couldn’t even attempt to calm his heartbeat or quiet his moans. Hawkeye pulled back just a little bit, his slightly parted lips almost touching the head of Henry’s cock.
“Sign the pass, Henry.” he breathed. The tip of his tongue came out and licked his lips, and he didn’t break eye-contact. Henry swallowed hard and couldn’t move. Hawkeye licked his cock, sucking gently on the head, and Henry moaned loudly. “Sign the pass, Henry.”
“Don’t stop.” Henry breathed, putting his left hand ontop of Hawkeye’s head while his right groped on the desk for a pen. Hawkeye moved his head to look up on the desk as if to check on what the other man was doing, but Henry’s hand firmly forced him back down and he went down, slowly going all the way and then back up, fast. He did that twice and then looked up again.
“Did you sign the pass?” he breathed.
“Aw, c’mon Hawkeye...”
“Did you sign the pass?”
Henry’s head fell backwards and his failing right hand scratched his signature on the line. “I signed the pass.” he said softly, just wishing Hawkeye would let him come. He’d lost. Well, maybe.
Hawkeye smiled sweetly, rose up enough to put a hand on the back of Henry’s neck, and kissed him. “Thank you.” he said. He lowered himself back down and then almost swallowed Henry’s cock, going up and down faster than he had before. Henry felt his legs go lax and his entire body twitched. This was fucking it. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to fill Pierce’s big mouth just like before, just like every other goddamned time he got his way –
“No. No, stop.” Henry panted, intertwining his fingers in strands of Hawkeye’s hair to gently pull him off.
“What for?” Hawkeye complained, looking annoyed. “I don’t want to.”
“Huh uh, boy-o.” Henry grinned slyly. “You just get whatever the hell you want this way, don’t you? Get up – I’m gonna fuck you.”
Hawkeye stopped looking annoyed and looked delighted instead. “Ah!” he said, and jumped to his feet. “That’s another story. Where?”
“Right where you are. Turn around and put your hands on the desk.” Henry stood up and hiked his pants up, not bothering to fasten them as he quickly went to the doors and pulled the shades down, just incase Radar didn’t stop anyone headed that way. Hawkeye snatched the other pass, folded it, and put it in his side pants pocket before he undid them and let them fall down. He now looked more amused than anything as he bent over and rested his palms on the desktop.
Henry came back over around the desk, opened the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a small tube, squeezing out a small amount of a clear gel onto his hand. He threw the uncapped tube on the desk as he moved behind Hawkeye, grabbing his own cock and coating it in the (unfortunately, cold) gel. He lifted up the back of Hawkeye’s shirt and jacket with one hand while the other, the one that was lubricated, carefully pushed two fingers inside Hawkeye to stretch him a little so Henry would fit. He decided he must have been too worked up because he went too fast and Hawkeye yelped and gripped the top of the desk hard.
“Sorry.” Henry mumbled, moving slower. “It’s your own fault you know, teasing me so much like that.”
Hawkeye laughed. “I know.”
Henry pulled his shirt off and wiped his hand off on it, then kept it in his hand at the ready, putting both his hands on Hawkeye’s hips and stooping down so he could then move upwards. Hawkeye spread his legs apart just a little more and dipped his back. It took a few slow, careful minutes for Hawkeye to get used to the invasion into his body, but soon he was murmuring softly as he was being fucked. Henry had a firm grip on Hawkeye’s hips and pulled them towards himself while he was thrusting forward, each push bringing him closer and closer. Leslie wasn’t that tight, that warm...and fucking the hell out of her, although pleasurable, didn’t give him the feeling of immense power he got from really giving it to that smirking, cockteasing smart-ass Hawkeye Pierce. He slammed home harder and Hawkeye bent his head down, his knuckles almost white on the edge of the desk.
Suddenly Henry slowed, then quickly pulled out, putting the shirt in his hand in position so there wasn’t any excess mess. Hawkeye stayed where he was for a second and then slowly he bent down to gather his trousers and shorts, hauling them back up and fixing them, even smoothing his shirt while Henry tried to regain his breath. After several moments, Henry collapsed in his chair and then took a deep breath, his heart no longer doing spastic jumpingjacks.
“Pierce, you want me to...?” Henry said, only slightly reluctantly, when realizing he’d come and Hawkeye had not.
“Nah, I’m gonna find Trapper and tell ‘im the good news.” Hawkeye said lightly, his hands in his pockets.
“Oh? What good news?”
“That we’re going to Tokyo.” Hawkeye grinned and then lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers in adieu as he turned and strode out of the office with two passes to Tokyo in his pocket.
“Oh.” Henry sighed heavily. He stared at the swinging doors after he’d gone until they were still again. “Goddamit.”
*****
Hawkeye had little to no trouble walking back to the Swamp, expecting, of course, for Frank to be there so he couldn’t give Trapper his daily physical. Frank was not there, but then, neither was Trapper. Hawkeye decided a pre-dinner drink was in order and stepped inside, going over to The Still with a moderately clean glass. He sipped it and took out the passes and looked over them again to make sure all was right, and it was. His eyes strayed to his bunk where the corner of something white caught his eye.
It was a sheet of paper with a quick pencil sketch on it, a very good drawing of the Supply Tent. One thing that only he knew Trapper could do was draw, though Trapper didn’t know Hawkeye had saved every sketch he’d been given, whether it was a cartoon of Frank the Ferret and Margaret the Shrew and the little Shrew-ets, or a half-full martini glass as the sun hit it. He now carefully slipped the paper between the pages of a magazine under his bed and decided to see what the Supply Tent had in store.
“Allie allie come in free,” he said softly as he stepped inside. “Trap?”
Long, thin arms encircled his waist from behind and he felt someone press gentle lips to the back of his neck, something that turned him into putty. “Took you long enough.”
Hawkeye turned around and put his arms around Trapper’s neck. “Sorry.” he grinned. “I got the passes.”
“Good.”
Hawkeye half-smiled and kissed him softly. “Mad at me?”
“No.”
“Trapper...”
Trapper shrugged and bent his head down, kissing Hawkeye’s neck. “Nah. Not really. Now we can go to Tokyo, I guess.”
“Right.” Hawkeye pulled the other man closer and kissed him again. “Mmm, you taste good. We got this place to ourselves?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah? I got somethin’ that needs taken care of that only you can - how ‘bout it?” Hawkeye kissed down Trapper’s chin and jaw down to his neck, pressing his lips gently to his throat. “What do you wanna do?”
Trapper finally grinned. “You. Just...you.”
The prophecy, to recreate the truth
in visions of a seasonal mood
in truth, the only sight he saw
lay hidden in the bathroom door
and spat on the rug
as high is high, so low is low
and that's the end of it.
“Rooftop in a Thunderstorm Row Missing The Point” © Syd Barrett
<:3D~
Title : Rooftop In A Thunderstorm Row Missing The Point
Author: Hawkeye’s Martini
Rating: NC17
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Pairing & Genre: Hawkry/Hawpper – romance...kind of.
Feedback: Is bad when it’s loud.
Archive: Should be spelled with a ‘k’. Arkive. Yeah.
Email: Two.
Warnings: Yes. (Explicit slash and language.)
Summary: Hawkeye wants passes to Tokyo for himself and Trapper. Henry says no. Hawkeye doesn’t think “no” is an acceptable answer.
Disclaimers: Characters and setting not mine. Flamboyant misuse of character’s personalities, mine.
A/N: Slash-tastic! Thanks to the awesome beta reader
nosferatuvoice, who is rewarded with much Hawkry.This story was inspired by this screencap.
With yellow, red and roomy food, and quivered
crouching on a golden cushion
undressed himself to disappear
through an infinity of pleasure
and smiled to free the running me
with "Am I my brother's keeper?"
his meek hand on devil’s gloves
shaping running blood
“If I let you two out of here to Tokyo for five days, I’m stuck with two Majors that I can’t hardly tell apart!” Henry retorted. He slammed his hand down on the desk and then leaned over to holler at the door. “Radar!”
“We’re not expecting any big number of wounded for at least a week,” Hawkeye said soothingly. “Tell Frank he can put up flags in the latrines. Margaret will supervise, then they’ll go salute each other.”
“But he’s a married man.” Trapper pretended to be shocked.
“So’re you.” Hawkeye murmured back at him. Trapper shrugged nonchalantly.
Henry was shaking his head. “But what if we get more wounded? They don’t always put it on the calendar, you know. Then I’m out two surgeons! One of you can go, but not both!”
“I’m afraid that won’t do it.” Hawkeye said seriously, with a half-shake of his head. They seemed to be having a staring contest while Trapper watched – he’d seen Hawkeye get his way before, and when Henry ceased to protest verbally, there was no longer any question.
But Hawkeye liked to seal the deal.
Finally, he spoke. Softly, with a slight look of contempt in his eyes and a look of amusement on his face. “Sign the passes, Henry.”
The C.O. shook his head again, sitting back in his chair. “Can’t do it, Hawk.” he sighed. Trapper pressed his lips together – Hawkeye had said they were going to Tokyo come hell or high water, and this seemed to be one or the other. He was sure he’d be asked to leave the room in another moment.
Hawkeye looked at Henry for a few seconds longer, then he smirked. He turned to Trapper, sitting to his left. “See you back at the Swamp, Trap?” he said.
Trapper almost rolled his eyes, instead he opted to sigh noticeably. He got up out of the chair and exited the office, stopping when he saw Radar beating the hell out of his typewriter. “Think they can hear that all the way to ‘I’ Corps.” He commented. “Screw the paperwork, they know Morse code, right?” Radar didn’t answer, he just looked up sulkily and inserted another sheet of paper, pounding on the keys so hard it was all that could be heard in the small room. Trapper nodded, remembering that the corporal wasn’t called “Radar” for no reason. He figured Radar had heard plain enough Henry’s call for him and didn’t go in for that same reason.
Meanwhile, Henry had sat back up in his chair after Trapper had exited. He knew just as well as Trapper and Radar what Hawkeye was up to, better than anyone else perhaps, but that did nothing to quiet his sudden anxiety. Hawkeye hadn’t moved yet and was still looking at the older man, turning the glass of scotch in his hand around and around slowly. Henry wondered how a man could look bored and interested at the same time, but there it was. Of course, if nothing else could be said about Hawkeye Pierce, it was that he was a living bundle of contradictions. He was maniacal and serious, he was sad and laughing like hell, he was angry and grinning like a loon. He liked women, and...
‘Well, he doesn’t like me,’ Henry thought to himself, and was surprised that it disappointed him. ‘He just wants to get the passes so he can go to Tokyo with the one he does like’. Hark! Was that jealousy for Trapper McIntyre he harbored? The fool! He sighed and shifted uncomfortably under the steady, unblinking gaze. He wanted to say something, or for Hawkeye to do something – the silence was unbearable.
Hawkeye, of course, was enjoying it. He sipped from his glass occasionally, but mostly he watched Henry fidget and laughed inside. After a couple of minutes had gone by, he judged it to be enough, and leaned forward, setting his glass down. He sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “Those passes are important, Henry.” He said suddenly and clearly, and Henry twitched.
“What do you need ‘em for?” he asked carefully.
Hawkeye laughed. “Recreation.”
“You can recreate here, you know.”
He smirked. “Not everyone has a Radar, Henry. What’s it going to take for those passes, hmm?”
“You can’t have both of them.”
“It’s kind of necessary; I don’t think they’ll let me sit on his lap on the plane. Neverminding the fact that would make one of us AWOL.”
“You’ve always been AWOL.” Henry tapped his skull.
Hawkeye laughed again. “Right. Where are the pass forms?”
Henry hesitated. “In that cabinet...but you’re not supposed to be in there.”
“Just my hand. But we don’t tell anyone about that.” Hawkeye winked as he got up and rummaged through the filing cabinet against the wall, pulling out a folder and then two blank pass forms. “Ah ha,” he said softly in triumph. He closed the drawer, went around to the left side of the big desk, and laid them infront of Henry. “B-L-A-K-E.” he instructed.
Henry gave him a dark Look and pushed them off to the side, out of the centre of his desk. “No.”
“All right then, one.” Hawkeye smiled widely and firmly pushed one of the forms back.
Henry sighed. He knew he was losing. “For you or McIntyre?”
“Trapper. You’ll sign mine later.”
“I will?” Henry didn’t look up as he quickly scribbled in Trapper’s name, rank, serial number (he had both of theirs memorized by the first month after the many written complaints and othersuch Majors Burns and Houlihan had forced on him), destination, and length of effectiveness for the pass. He heard the clank of glass against glass and knew Hawkeye had helped himself to the liquor cabinet – why bother with a lock and key? Where was the key? It was supposed to be kept in the top drawer of the – oh. Henry sighed as he watched Hawkeye jiggle the drawer so it opened and then drop the key back inside.
“All done? Good.” Hawkeye swiped the pass out of Henry’s hands, folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. “I’ll help you with this one.” Before Henry could protest, his pen was stolen and Hawkeye hastily filled in the blanks with his own information, leaving the CO’s signature line blank.
“Waste of a pass form.” Henry almost sang.
“We’ll see.” Hawkeye grinned.
Henry sometimes wondered about Hawkeye Pierce. He was smarter than most thought, even those who’d seen him perform (surgery) or had heard him speak. Henry also wondered at the clumsy grace he had. Tall and thin, his limbs were too long and he was lanky, he also had very poor posture and seemed to hunch over when he stood upright. Even with all that, he could move faster than Henry could reckon at times. Take right now, for example – one moment Henry was telling him he was wasting a pass form and watching him smirk, and the next he had already fallen to his knees, deft fingers loosing the older man’s belt and trouser buttons with practiced ease. Henry’s body sprang to life immediately (which was something he’d tried to not wonder about, not when it took Leslie several minutes to get him worked up) but he hesitated.
“Hawk – “ he began.
“Just shut up.” Hawkeye murmured, shifting on his knees to get more comfortable. He pushed Henry’s shirt up and slipped one hand underneath while he bent his head down, pressing his lips to the soft skin just above the line of Henry’s shorts. Henry felt something brushing over his stomach and lightly placed his hand ontop of Hawkeye’s head, feeling soft black hair. He could also feel the younger doctor’s other hand, tugging at the waistband of the shorts as if they were a garment solely made to be in his way. Another second and Henry was free, free for all the air to – wait a moment! Lovely freedom was confused with another kind of confinement, but it was warm and moist and incredibly soft. Henry hissed softly, trying not to make much noise, although he knew if Radar was out there, he didn’t need ears to know what was taking place.
Hawkeye knew just want to do and how to do it, and he went about it casually and earnestly, going down and up. Down, Henry’s cock went down his throat, and up, his lips trailed up the shaft and he sucked lightly on the head, licking it while Henry shuddered. Henry’s right hand was still atop Hawkeye’s head but his left gripped the side of his chair, hoping he could hold out against this exquisite torment. He knew Hawkeye wouldn’t stop until he had a mouthful, which, with that mouth, normally wasn’t very long. He let out a low moan.
Hawkeye trailed his tongue all the way up, lifting his eyes and staring at Henry unblinking as he swirled his tongue around. Henry couldn’t break that gaze nor stop his hard, heavy breath; he couldn’t even attempt to calm his heartbeat or quiet his moans. Hawkeye pulled back just a little bit, his slightly parted lips almost touching the head of Henry’s cock.
“Sign the pass, Henry.” he breathed. The tip of his tongue came out and licked his lips, and he didn’t break eye-contact. Henry swallowed hard and couldn’t move. Hawkeye licked his cock, sucking gently on the head, and Henry moaned loudly. “Sign the pass, Henry.”
“Don’t stop.” Henry breathed, putting his left hand ontop of Hawkeye’s head while his right groped on the desk for a pen. Hawkeye moved his head to look up on the desk as if to check on what the other man was doing, but Henry’s hand firmly forced him back down and he went down, slowly going all the way and then back up, fast. He did that twice and then looked up again.
“Did you sign the pass?” he breathed.
“Aw, c’mon Hawkeye...”
“Did you sign the pass?”
Henry’s head fell backwards and his failing right hand scratched his signature on the line. “I signed the pass.” he said softly, just wishing Hawkeye would let him come. He’d lost. Well, maybe.
Hawkeye smiled sweetly, rose up enough to put a hand on the back of Henry’s neck, and kissed him. “Thank you.” he said. He lowered himself back down and then almost swallowed Henry’s cock, going up and down faster than he had before. Henry felt his legs go lax and his entire body twitched. This was fucking it. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to fill Pierce’s big mouth just like before, just like every other goddamned time he got his way –
“No. No, stop.” Henry panted, intertwining his fingers in strands of Hawkeye’s hair to gently pull him off.
“What for?” Hawkeye complained, looking annoyed. “I don’t want to.”
“Huh uh, boy-o.” Henry grinned slyly. “You just get whatever the hell you want this way, don’t you? Get up – I’m gonna fuck you.”
Hawkeye stopped looking annoyed and looked delighted instead. “Ah!” he said, and jumped to his feet. “That’s another story. Where?”
“Right where you are. Turn around and put your hands on the desk.” Henry stood up and hiked his pants up, not bothering to fasten them as he quickly went to the doors and pulled the shades down, just incase Radar didn’t stop anyone headed that way. Hawkeye snatched the other pass, folded it, and put it in his side pants pocket before he undid them and let them fall down. He now looked more amused than anything as he bent over and rested his palms on the desktop.
Henry came back over around the desk, opened the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a small tube, squeezing out a small amount of a clear gel onto his hand. He threw the uncapped tube on the desk as he moved behind Hawkeye, grabbing his own cock and coating it in the (unfortunately, cold) gel. He lifted up the back of Hawkeye’s shirt and jacket with one hand while the other, the one that was lubricated, carefully pushed two fingers inside Hawkeye to stretch him a little so Henry would fit. He decided he must have been too worked up because he went too fast and Hawkeye yelped and gripped the top of the desk hard.
“Sorry.” Henry mumbled, moving slower. “It’s your own fault you know, teasing me so much like that.”
Hawkeye laughed. “I know.”
Henry pulled his shirt off and wiped his hand off on it, then kept it in his hand at the ready, putting both his hands on Hawkeye’s hips and stooping down so he could then move upwards. Hawkeye spread his legs apart just a little more and dipped his back. It took a few slow, careful minutes for Hawkeye to get used to the invasion into his body, but soon he was murmuring softly as he was being fucked. Henry had a firm grip on Hawkeye’s hips and pulled them towards himself while he was thrusting forward, each push bringing him closer and closer. Leslie wasn’t that tight, that warm...and fucking the hell out of her, although pleasurable, didn’t give him the feeling of immense power he got from really giving it to that smirking, cockteasing smart-ass Hawkeye Pierce. He slammed home harder and Hawkeye bent his head down, his knuckles almost white on the edge of the desk.
Suddenly Henry slowed, then quickly pulled out, putting the shirt in his hand in position so there wasn’t any excess mess. Hawkeye stayed where he was for a second and then slowly he bent down to gather his trousers and shorts, hauling them back up and fixing them, even smoothing his shirt while Henry tried to regain his breath. After several moments, Henry collapsed in his chair and then took a deep breath, his heart no longer doing spastic jumpingjacks.
“Pierce, you want me to...?” Henry said, only slightly reluctantly, when realizing he’d come and Hawkeye had not.
“Nah, I’m gonna find Trapper and tell ‘im the good news.” Hawkeye said lightly, his hands in his pockets.
“Oh? What good news?”
“That we’re going to Tokyo.” Hawkeye grinned and then lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers in adieu as he turned and strode out of the office with two passes to Tokyo in his pocket.
“Oh.” Henry sighed heavily. He stared at the swinging doors after he’d gone until they were still again. “Goddamit.”
*****
Hawkeye had little to no trouble walking back to the Swamp, expecting, of course, for Frank to be there so he couldn’t give Trapper his daily physical. Frank was not there, but then, neither was Trapper. Hawkeye decided a pre-dinner drink was in order and stepped inside, going over to The Still with a moderately clean glass. He sipped it and took out the passes and looked over them again to make sure all was right, and it was. His eyes strayed to his bunk where the corner of something white caught his eye.
It was a sheet of paper with a quick pencil sketch on it, a very good drawing of the Supply Tent. One thing that only he knew Trapper could do was draw, though Trapper didn’t know Hawkeye had saved every sketch he’d been given, whether it was a cartoon of Frank the Ferret and Margaret the Shrew and the little Shrew-ets, or a half-full martini glass as the sun hit it. He now carefully slipped the paper between the pages of a magazine under his bed and decided to see what the Supply Tent had in store.
“Allie allie come in free,” he said softly as he stepped inside. “Trap?”
Long, thin arms encircled his waist from behind and he felt someone press gentle lips to the back of his neck, something that turned him into putty. “Took you long enough.”
Hawkeye turned around and put his arms around Trapper’s neck. “Sorry.” he grinned. “I got the passes.”
“Good.”
Hawkeye half-smiled and kissed him softly. “Mad at me?”
“No.”
“Trapper...”
Trapper shrugged and bent his head down, kissing Hawkeye’s neck. “Nah. Not really. Now we can go to Tokyo, I guess.”
“Right.” Hawkeye pulled the other man closer and kissed him again. “Mmm, you taste good. We got this place to ourselves?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah? I got somethin’ that needs taken care of that only you can - how ‘bout it?” Hawkeye kissed down Trapper’s chin and jaw down to his neck, pressing his lips gently to his throat. “What do you wanna do?”
Trapper finally grinned. “You. Just...you.”
The prophecy, to recreate the truth
in visions of a seasonal mood
in truth, the only sight he saw
lay hidden in the bathroom door
and spat on the rug
as high is high, so low is low
and that's the end of it.
“Rooftop in a Thunderstorm Row Missing The Point” © Syd Barrett
<:3D~
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