indigo_angels

Hannibal:-
Murdock’s timing was impeccable as always. The last thing I needed was to have fight with the damn kid in front of all these people, and I saw he had that look in his eye, the one he only gets when all sense of rational thought has well and truly dissolved. So, yeah, I think I owe the captain one there, even though he looked less than impressed with me...

So that’s Plan B, Phase One, complete, now I need to move onto Phase Two.

I disentangle myself from Samantha, and promise I’ll be back after I run a couple of errands. She looks a little disappointed which does great things to my ego, especially after Face doing his damndest to trample on it every day for the last month or so, and I gratefully slip away from all the noise and testosterone.

I head straight for my quarters. Murdock hauled the LT away about fifteen minutes ago, that will have given him sufficient time to calm down just enough to realise that we don’t need a public confrontation over this. He also won’t want to upset Murdock any more than he already is, so he’ll definitely end up at mine. I’d stake my rank on it.

Of course I’m right. He’s already managed to lose Murdock and let himself in and he’s sitting bolt upright on a storage box in the corner of the room, his eyes zeroing in on me across the darkened tent and his arms folded stiffly across his chest.

I take a step towards him and he’s on his feet in a fraction of a second, coiled as tight as a cobra ready to strike, and I just hope I can play him exactly right here...

“Boss...” he wants to talk, of course he does, but that’s not what I have got planned, no, no, no. There’s something much more interesting up my sleeve for the rest of the evening.

I take another step in and feel the tension radiating off him in waves. He puts his hands up in front of him, trying to stop my advance but I know him too well, all I need is to get one hand on him, one touch and he’ll be putty in my hands.

Another step, and he tries again, “Boss, I...” but I’m in. One hand snakes under his to rest on his side, in the hollow above his hip, my thumb sliding under the soft as butter material of his shirt and finding hot skin, circling gently.

I hear his barely suppressed gasp and see some of the tension leak out of him. It’s all about touch for the kid and always had been. Deprived of even the most basic physical comforts as a child, he craves it now, a desperate need and a secret back door for anyone who knows him well enough to know it’s there. Anyone like me.

My other hand slides in now, up, round his hip and under his shirt, finding hard muscle under the soft skin of his back and slipping right up until I’m holding the back of his neck, pulling him in, feeling more than hearing the little moan of defeat as he succumbs to my gentle persuading and opens up to me.

For a few glorious minutes I allow myself to vanish inside him. Enjoy the feeling of this, a feeling I haven’t had for so long. But my internal clock is ticking away, loudly reminding me that there is more to tonight than just this, so I step back, keeping us fused together, leading him closer and closer to the bed. When I feel the thump of the mattress against my knees I change tack again, this time undoing his buttons while all the time keeping his mouth busy, keeping his mind from thinking too rationally.

He’s a more than willing subject and I strip him naked while we continue to kiss, and for a moment I feel a surge of guilt at what I am planning to do. He trusts me, so completely and utterly, and I know damn well it’s not a trust he gives away lightly, will this damage what we have? Will he ever trust me again if I do this?

I pause as I think this through, but then memories of the last few weeks, the womanising, the whoring, wash over me like a cold shower and I know that this has to be sorted out once and for all. He has to know what it this like for me, otherwise he’ll never understand, and he’ll never, ever stop.

I’ve no choice.

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