Two short fics

[subluxate]

Author: Me
Challenge: This one.
Title: Fear
Summary: For hawkeyesmartini’s challenge in mash_challenge
Warning: Oral sex and just plain sex
Word Count: 254
Rating: We’re going to go with R on this
Notes: Please R&R; my first longish fic (besides the AU alt-gender one).

Frank gasped, and the two men paused for a moment. Those…those degenerates! How could they, and in his tent, too!

“Come on, Hawk,” Trapper murmured. “It was nothin’.”

“Mmm, if you say so…” Trapper pushed Hawkeye down to the cot and stood over him, grinning. Kneeling, he kissed the other man hungrily, insistently, his hands busy at Hawkeye’s belt, then his fly. Pushing down the man’s pants and shorts, he kissed his way down, paused, grinned wickedly at the expectant expression on Hawkeye’s face, then swallowed him effortlessly.

Frank squirmed when McIntyre did that. He’d have them thrown out, blue discharges…never mind how uncomfortable it was getting to lay on his stomach.

Hawkeye was moaning and squirming on the bed. Gasping, he called Trapper’s name, his hips thrusting upward. Trapper sat back, pleased with himself. He kissed Hawkeye, hard, then reached for a small pot and dropped his pants and shorts. He dipped his fingers in and—Frank couldn’t believe it—started running his fingers in and out of Hawkeye, who pushed back on Trapper’s fingers. A few minutes later, Trapper flipped Hawkeye over and entered him, gasping as he did. Hawkeye let out a soft moan.

When they were finished, Hawkeye left for the shower.

“Frank.”

“I don’t have to take that,” he snapped, then flushed, furious with himself.

“Come out, Frank.” He wormed his way out and stood, shaking, beside his cot.

“If you do anything to hurt Hawk because of what you saw, I’ll kill you. Get it, Frank?”

Frank whimpered.

Author: Me
Challenge: This one.
Title: Tears
Summary: For bartle_by’s challenge in mash_challenge
Warning: If Mulcahy!fic squicks you, don’t read on.
Word Count: 369
Rating: G or PG
Notes: I didn’t expect it to go in this direction, but it wanted to.

There’s a tap at the door. “Come,” he calls without hesitation. He’s not expecting Trapper’s curly hair, his boyish grin.

“Father,” he says. “Wondered if I could interest you in a drink.”

“Swamp gin?” Mulcahy asks. At the nod, he grins. “Why not. Come on in, Trapper.”

“Father,” Trapper says hesitantly, “before we drink, can I make a confession?”

“Certainly, my son,” Mulcahy replies, instantly shifting from friend to priest. “Sit down.”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession.” He hesitates, unsure of how to continue.

“Go on,” Mulcahy urges him.

“I have…lusted, Father.” He takes a deep breath. “After a man.”

“Oh?” Mulcahy knows, of course, about Trapper’s indiscretions with the nurses, and he has an inkling that there’s something going on with Hawkeye. “Is it Hawkeye?”

Trapper laughs. “You’re good, Father. Hawk and I…we’ve had a thing going on for awhile. That’s not who, though.”

“Is that so?” Mulcahy waits.

“Oh, you’re not gonna ask?”

“It’s up to you if you want to tell me or not.”

“You see, Father, I don’t think it’s just lust. I may be falling for this man, and he doesn’t even know it. Is there anything wrong with falling in love with a man, Father?”

Mulcahy shifts uneasily. “My son, the Good Book is unclear on this matter. I see nothing wrong with love, and I don’t believe the Lord does either. The Church is a different matter.”

“But you don’t have a problem with it, Father?”

“No, John, I don’t.” Trapper starts at hearing his given name, then remembers this is a confessional.

“Thank you, Father.”

“I don’t see a need for penance in this matter, John. You need to resolve this within your own heart. Should you want to talk, my door is always open.”

Trapper grins. “Thanks, Father. How about that drink?”

“I think that would go over well about now. What should we drink to?”

“To love that isn’t meant to be.”

“To love.” They toast, then swallow the gin, Mulcahy making a face as it burns down. If there are tears in Trapper’s eyes, Mulcahy attributes them to the gin. He doesn’t think about what they could mean.

Cross-posted to ff.n, mash_challenge, and my journal.

Comments

[shinsolo.livejournal.com]

Aw . . . The 2nd one with Father Mulcahy and Trapper got me a little even though I wasn't expecting that . . . I think it was just that last line! And can you really blame him for not thinking about what they meant, and not noticing? -sighs- Poor Trapper . . BUT then again . . . if he's got something with Hawkeye . . . -smirks- Does he really need anyone else? haha Nice little fic, hun.
~Shin