Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Story not making me money.

Warnings: The sexual content in this story may push the limits of the M rating (which is why I didn't previously post this here).

Notes: This is a [previously unposted] follow up to my A-Team fic "A Night on the Town" (find it on my profile page) posted on here months ago. Don't try to find a plot.


Hannibal woke up as his head hit the mattress, feeling uncomfortable, but somehow... incredible.

The discomfort arose from him being pillowless, crowded to the edge of the bed, and far too hot, with sweat just coating his limbs and dampening his underwear. The dull grayness of the room told him that it was not quite dawn, which meant that he'd gotten nowhere near enough sleep – not after the exertions of the previous night.

Mm, exertions… The thought drew a deep purr, the rumble of a sated lion, to his throat and reminded him of the incredible part of this morning: Face. It was Face who had stolen his pillow in slumber, and whose overheated body was driving Hannibal almost off the bed. The lieutenant wasn't the most accommodating bed partner when he was asleep, but when he was awake…

It was a self-contained heat now that brought perspiration to Hannibal's brow and caused his dick to twitch pleasantly in his boxers. The clammy fabric reminded him of the warmer moisture and sweeter pressure of Face's mouth last night. Kid's got talents…

With that thought, Hannibal carefully rolled to his side, propped himself up on an elbow, and surveyed the man whose bed he was sharing (just). Face lay gloriously sprawled in the middle of the full-sized bed, hands above his head and arms hugging the pillows under them. His torso was stretched out, rosy nipples just standing out over taut muscles and golden skin marked here and there by scars and passion. His left leg was kicked out and his right was bent, knee pressing into Hannibal while calf and thigh made a triangle, enticingly framing his perfectly formed cock.

Fucking gorgeous: tanned, toned, and tempting. That body was always a picture, and this morning, it was telling a story.

There were the scrapes on his right hand from when they'd dived for cover when the first shots started flying in that damned bar. Face's vault over the counter had been breathtaking, but his landing had been rough, impeded by kegs, bottles, and broken glass. He hadn't shown any pain, though – he'd just smoothly drawn his sidearm and had begun returning fire, excitement dancing in his blue eyes. Even in the midst of that intense fight for their lives, Hannibal had delighted in the rare opportunity to take in his lieutenant's predatory beauty at close range.

It was exhilarating, the colonel thought as his eyes moved to the small cut on the other man's cheek, earned when a piece of shattering disco ball had flown too close. It had been that moment – with Face hot against his arm, looking up at him with laughing gratitude and complete trust – that he had decided that this was where he wanted to be, that night and every night they could manage after.

And the sex was decidedly better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Hannibal's eyes slid next to the bruises on the blond man's elbows. They'd been in a frenzy when they'd finally returned to Face's room. Their lips had locked against one another before the door had even finished closing, tongues and limbs tangling as hands frantically pulled at clothing. They'd stumbled over a pair of boots and lust and impatience had defeated battle-honed reflexes as they'd fallen heavily to the floor. There'd been no indication that the younger man had felt any pain, however, as, with a soft growl into their kiss, he'd pushed at Hannibal, who'd allowed him to reposition them on the floor. Face had maneuvered them, barely breaking their kiss, until the colonel was flat on his back with his lieutenant hovering over him. Then, he'd pulled back, a thin ribbon of saliva stretching and breaking between their mouths, and moved lower. His lips had gone then to the small expanse of flesh exposed above Hannibal's pants where his shirt had been pushed up. Hannibal had let loose with a growl of his own as Face had first kissed, then licked around his navel, his stubble a pleasant roughness against the older man's skin.

"What's your hurry, kid?" Hannibal had asked huskily when those wonderful, teasing lips had quested lower and urgent hands began working at his fly. "I'm not going anywhere." The last syllable was drawn out on a shuddery breath as Face's hands brushed his erection through the light cotton of his boxers.

"Want you," Face had responded briefly, voice roughened by lust and breath hot and moist against Hannibal. His tongue had darted out then to press against each of the small buttons that held the front flap of the older man's boxers closed, wiggling them back and forth lightly against his arousal.

"Jesus, Face." Hannibal had gasped in response. "Stop playing around."

"I thought you didn't want me to hurry." The conman's fingers had begun undoing those buttons then, painstakingly slowly. Then he'd slid a hand in and lightly stroked Hannibal's cock with the back of a finger. The colonel's hips had given an involuntary jerk then, seeking to increase the contact and there'd been a smirk in Face's voice as he continued, "Have you changed your mind?"

Hannibal had reached still gloved hands down to grasp a shoulder and the side of Face's head. "You do whatever it is you're going to do and you do it now." He'd surprised himself with the rumbling intensity in his own voice.

"Hmm," had been the hummed response as the hand in Hannibal's boxers had stroked more firmly and the younger man's head had turned. With his teeth, he'd gripped the cuff of the glove against his cheek and peeled it off, teeth moving to a finger to pull it off completely. He'd looked up at his partner and he'd smiled lasciviously, letting the glove drop from his mouth as he asked, "That an order, boss?"

Hannibal had twined his naked fingers in that soft golden hair and brushed a thumb over a temple. "I don't think it needs to be. Somehow," he'd added with a hint of smugness – he'd seen the desire glazing those blue eyes, the impatient sweat glistening on his brow.

And then Face had withdrawn his CO's cock from his boxers and brought his lips to it, kissing the tip softly before running his tongue firmly along its length. He'd taken as much of it as he could into his mouth and he'd used his skilled fingers to caress every other square inch of heated, sensitive flesh.

"Oof!" Hannibal grunted in the predawn light as Face shifted his right arm lower, elbowing his bed partner in the process. "Damn… didn't tell me I'd need my Kevlar…" Neither the jarring contact nor the half-amused muttering seemed to disturb the younger man's slumber in the slightest. Although it had disturbed Hannibal's amorous recollections. Where were we? His eyes traced the offending arm until they reached faint, thumb-shaped bruising on the inside of the upper arm. Ah, yes…

As Hannibal's hips had started jerking with greater frequency, Face had shifted over him, getting down on his elbows and sliding his own hardened groin down the colonel's legs. Hannibal's gloved left hand had slipped down to Face's bicep and when the lieutenant had opened his mouth wider and taken Hannibal's cock even deeper in his mouth, that hand had clutched convulsively. The grip had then tightened (to bruising strength, apparently) as the older man had struggled for the control to not thrust up into that hot, wonderful mouth. His right hand had tangled more tightly in that golden hair, fingertips tensing in time with Face's movements on his dick. A deep animal sound of lust had rumbled out of his throat as he felt his climax drawing closer, only to be strangled in a groan of frustration as the younger man had inexplicably pulled back.

"What are you doing?" The question had been just comprehensible in Hannibal's low growl.

Amusement had sparkled with desire in the narrowed eyes that had looked back at him. "Well, boss, I'm in a bit of a quandary here…" The colonel had met that with an inarticulate growl and an impatient tug at Face's hair. "You see, I don't want to make a mess – spunk is no good for my hair – but your orders prevent me from swallowing."

"Orders?"

"'Don't you dare swallow.' Your exact words, sir." Face had looked both wicked and incredibly fucking sexy as he'd covered Hannibal's lower body, smirking over his leaking cock, and a thumb stroking between his balls. "Is that order rescinded?"

The harsh, desperately frustrated sound Hannibal had made then must have sounded enough like "yes" to satisfy the other man. As the grips in his hair and on his arm had tightened even further, Face had once more engulfed his leader's erection, tongue lapping white fluid on its way. As lips, tongue and fingers had sucked, stroked, and caressed, he'd kept his eyes locked on Hannibal's, gaze flooded with triumph, lust, and something, as yet, indefinable. It had been that sight as much as the overwhelming heat and sensation that had finally driven Hannibal over the edge, hips jerking in a small, erratic spasm as Face's mouth and throat worked furiously to take in all of his release.

How is it that he can look so goddamned gorgeous no matter what he does? Hannibal's hand went to his now sleeping lieutenant's mouth and caressed the corner of it softly, wiping at the memory of his own semen. Face had looked like some primitive god, strong, beautiful, and carnal, as he'd crouched over his lover, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed, dick hard, and come dripping from his mouth. Hannibal's cock stirred at the memory, his boxers feeling tight again.

Easy, boy. We're not going to have time to take care of you this morning. But, despite his words to himself, he still carried on with his replay, eyes going next to the love bites that trailed down Face's chest and torso to his abdomen. Hannibal felt a surprisingly intense glow of satisfaction at the sight.

"Your turn," he'd said, briefly, gruffly as he'd pushed himself up on arms that had felt delightfully languid. "Shirt off," he'd ordered and Face had shivered over him as he'd complied. In the meantime, Hannibal had cupped his hands under the younger man's ass, pulling him more upright and drawing him closer. Then he'd stroked his hands upward, over firm curves and planes, to rest under the shirt, just below the shoulder blades, enjoying the feel of the other man shuddering against him. When Face's shirt was open and off, he'd swiftly pressed his lips against the exposed flesh, tasting the salt of sweat, a slight acrid tang like gunpowder, and something bittersweet and smooth and undeniably Face. He'd pressed harder then, sucking, savoring the taste of his lover's skin. The other man had made a small gasping moan in response, encouraging Hannibal to move lower, licking around and under a nipple before trailing hard, sucking kisses down his torso. His right hand had gone back to the lieutenant's ass, shifting him up into a kneeling position, while his left hand had stroked Face's straining erection through his pants.

"Hannibal," the younger man had breathed, heat dripping from every syllable. The colonel's hands had worked together then, to relieve his XO of pants and… He hadn't been wearing any underwear. His hard, dripping cock had sprung free the moment Hannibal had opened his fly.

"You plan for this kid?"

"Mmm… you're the one… with… plans."

Instead of responding, Hannibal had taken the base of the other man's arousal in his right hand and had delivered a firm stroke along its entire length, caressing the slit with his thumb before stroking down again.

Face had moaned and clutched at Hannibal's shoulders then, hips rocking gently as the action was repeated. "Left hand," he'd whispered, voice quavering.

"What?"

"Use… your left hand."

The glove had still been on Hannibal's left hand. "So, we're not allowed to get spunk in your hair, but my leather gloves are fair game?"

"Hannibal, please."

Fuck… It really had been the magic word when Face had said it in a desperate moan, moist blue eyes pleading with his partner and body writhing in his hands. Hannibal had given in, bringing his gloved left hand to Face's erection and giving it one, slow pump, the action smoothed by the sweat and white fluid already spread by previous caresses.

"Harder… faster…"

Hannibal had immediately met those demands, the sound of Face pleading had been too fucking hot and irresistible. He'd jerked the lieutenant's cock firmly in his left hand as his right had gone back around to pull his pants off his hips and knead the tense muscles of his ass. When he'd felt the first shudders that presaged Face's release, he'd shifted his hold to press the heel of his hand against the underside of Face's dick. He'd ground it between his hand and the man's own body until Face had climaxed with a hoarse cry of Hannibal's name, coming all over his own torso. Then the younger man had collapsed against him, panting. Hannibal had pushed him back, however, wanting to look longer at the magnificent sight.

"You're beautiful, Temp," he'd breathed without thinking. And he had been, like a golden bust of Adonis painted white with his own ejaculate.

And then they'd kissed again, slowly that time, hands reaching softly for necks and cheeks. Remembering that languid passion, Hannibal leaned over his lover in the rosy light of early dawn and kissed him again.

Face made a light humming noise as he tensed slightly under Hannibal and slowly, his right hand moved to the older man's head and his warm lips returned the gentle pressure.

"Good morning," he said when they parted.

"Yes, it is," Hannibal replied, lips curving against his will into a smile that was far too wide, too soft for a colonel in the Army Rangers. "That was some first date, wasn't it?"

"Shootout in a seedy bar followed by frantic sex on the floor of a cheap South American hotel? And they say romance is dead." Even in the weak morning light, those blue eyes sparkled.

"I'm not sure I want to know what you have planned for our second date." Unconsciously, Hannibal's hand went to stroke the marks he'd left on the younger man's chest.

"You know me boss – no plans," Face replied, straightening and stretching on the bed, rolling into Hannibal's touch. "I did have a few thoughts, though."

"Oh, yeah?"

"First date: drinks. Second date: dinner. So, I was thinking we could take our time." He rolled fully onto his side, facing Hannibal. "Wining." His left hand moved to splay on the colonel's chest. "Dining." He rubbed his left leg against Hannibal's. "Sixty-nining."

Hannibal groaned, pressing their lips together in a quick kiss that was anything but soft. "That sounds like one hell of a plan to me, kid."

That leg started to wrap around Hannibal this time as Face purred, "We can always practice now."

Damn… he is temptation personified… Still, the older man resisted. "Sorry, Temp," he apologized softly as he levered himself out of bed. "We've got work to do."

It was Face's turn to groan. "I was afraid you'd say that." He rolled and stretched on the bed, putting on a little show to make Hannibal regret his refusal. "That second date better be soon, boss."

"As soon as we can manage. Now, out of bed with you."

"Yes, sir," the younger man replied slowly, mockingly. His expression changed as he got up, however, from one of slight sulkiness to sultry invitation. "But Hannibal, if we're in such a hurry…?"

"Yeah, Face?"

"Don't you think it would save time to shower together?"


Let me know if you think this needs to be toned down.