Title: Dream
Author: Lisa M
Pairing: BJ/Hawkeye
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything. Don't sue ... no money.
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know.
Feedback: Would be appreciated - good or bad.
Summary: BJ thinks about what is and what he wants it to be ... if that makes sense.
A/N: I don't know what's going on with me lately. It seems that I have smut on the brain ... I can't seem to write anything but. I hope you don't mind. It's not the best I've written, yet it's also not the worst. This is dedicated to Lee, Kaira, Jaime, Robin, Snarky, Braideeni, Boom and everyone else over on You know you guys rock and I adore you!
Every night, I watch him sleep. His lithe body laying still on the cot, save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. His perfect lips are bowed slightly as if he is waiting for someone to come and kiss him. To raise him from his slumber. Silky strands of black hair, shot through with streaks of gray, fall softly across his brow.
I know I will never have him. Not in the way I truly want. Not here. Not ever.
But, in my dreams, I can reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, replacing it with my lips. Down over the sharp cheekbones and strong jaw line, I would travel until finally ending my journey at his mouth. He gives a warm exhale of breath before I press my lips to his. He startles awake, but quickly relaxes into the cot. Arms come around my middle and hug me tightly.
I slide the tip of my tongue over his teeth and they part, allowing me inside. Familiar tastes greet me - gin and olives, sleep and him. I delve in deeper, testing and teasing every inch until I've had my fill of him.
Long, slender fingers slide beneath the edge of my shirt, grasping it, pulling it up my torso and over my head. Hands roam the expanse of my back, massaging each muscle gently, but firmly. I remove his shirt and drop it to the floor. He pulls me close - chest to chest, skin to skin.
He rolls to his side, pulling me with him. Our lips reconnect in a heated kiss. Tongues dancing, teeth scraping until breathing morphs into panting. His strong hand slips into my pants and pulls them down over my hips - but doesn't remove them completely. Only far enough to allow my erection to spring free of them. His fingers quickly wrap around it. I release him from the confines of his scrubs and place my hand on him.
We begin to pump, slowly at first, but things become heated rapidly. Sweat pours off our bodies and our skin becomes as slick as oil. Back and forth we rock against each other. Hands and fingers and palms work together at a frenzied pace until we reach the edge of the precipice. First one, than the other falls into blissful climax. Hot, sticky semen sprays between us, coating our flesh.
And then I wake, each and every daybreak - unfulfilled. Left wanting. Throbbing with a desire that will never be sated. My sweat-soaked blankets untucked and rumpled. The only company I've had during the long, lonely night. And Hawkeye is there, just as always. He sits on the edge of my cot, concern etched into his perfect features.
"You okay, Beej?"
All I can do is nod. I'm afraid if I open my mouth to speak, that I won't be able to stop there. That I'll grab him and kiss him. Making my dreams become my reality.
"Are you sure? You look a little -- panicked."
"Yep," I manage to say as I turn my eyes away from his. "Bad dream. I'm fine now."
He grabs my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. I feel the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
"Okay, I'll see you later."
My friend smiles at me and leaves the Swamp. I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in my sweat-dampened pillow. I resist the urge to scream, and instead slide my hand beneath the blankets. I take myself to a place where the warm, soft palm sliding over my erection belongs to Hawkeye Pierce.
The End