Disclaim: I do not in any way own the A-Team and other associated characters.
This Cessna 172 can seat four comfortably Murdock doesn't think it needs too, not when BA is flying under him in the cockpit.
Hannibal had sent Murdock on a special solo mission to relieve the big guy of his fear of flying, no matter what, and all of the A-Teams missions were performed with killer precision even if things didn't go according to plan. So when bribery with curry and Texas toast along with four hours of silence a day didn't yield any welcome results, the big guns had to come out.
Howling Mad Murdock is crazy it is common knowledge, no one, however, can say the mad man doesn't know flying machine. For this mission Murdock had in his crazed mind a lot of planes ultimately he chooses a C172, partially because the exterior color matches his hat, mostly because it's small enough to be intimate without being claustrophobic.
The complicated part of the plan is getting BA within fifty yards of Murdock and any sort of flying contraption and yes that included kites. After deliberate serious thinking it's decided that one more dose of sedatives couldn't hurt.
BA awakes with a cotton mouth, fuzzy mind, and 155 pounds of pure insanity on his lap steering a plane.
"You crazy fool!"
13, 500 feet above ground and the crazy fool in mention turns to face a very disgruntled highly dangerous man. The thing about being crazy though is that there is no limit, no sense of danger, just a vibrating hum of what-ifs in the back of the mind.
Murdock takes BA's hands and takes them on a journey up his stomach, over his shoulder, down his back onto the yoke.
"To go higher pull back slowly, lower push forward slowly, I'll get the pedals,"
BA is lost in this crazy fool's moist breath, short clad knees on his sides, groin grinding on his, so lost he barely notices that only the very tips of Murdock's toes reach the pedals. Murdock isn't lost because he created the map he knows that as he plunges his tongue into the other's mouth that the fifth tooth on the right in chipped, knows if he goes too far back BA will gag and get pissed, knows that BA likes it when he whines and gives in.
There is an animalistic growl then Murdock is shoved against the yoke thrusting the plane into an impossible nose dive. The sense of plummeting to a fire death is lost momentarily in BA's primal need to establish himself as alpha before the crazy fool gets any ideas otherwise.
BA likes control Murdock is willing to let him think he has it.
Reality is a bitch and as happy as Murdock would be dying in such a manner he would rather not die now before he can finish watching Glee. Oh, and Bosco would kill him if he allowed this to happen and dying twice in the same span of seconds might not go so well, actually.
"Pull back," and he does.
The force meshes them impossible close until Murdock in sure his skin is stained with Bosco, not the he minds a bit. Adrenalin is fast and running and fuck the pheromones are smothering but damn if those fogged windows weren't the sexiest thing, unf.
"Even out," the might wanna hurry so I can shove your cock in my mouth is left unsaid, oh but trust it was implied, heavily. "Ready to join the mile high club? Hear there's an opening."
Bosco is rigid in his hand yet soft to touch like granite wrapped in velvet and god do the make planes with material like this 'cause he'd love to ride this all day. Murdock has given BA plenty of quickies whilst cruising down long stretches of highway, BA's fist white and curled, cracking the worn leather in the wheel, seconds away from losing control of the van and himself, and fuck when he comes the van swerves out and teeters dangerously on two wheels.
Hannibal would always chomp on a cigar, twirling Face-mans hair, an answer to his redundant question swirling in his cigar smoke, "What happened to the van?"
Murdock would spasm with a mad man's laugh and BA would grab a ratchet, grumbling some eighties tune, and set to work fixing the suspension, again.
This, though, is exhilaratingly different. If Bosco lost control Hanner's wouldn't be there to ask things he knew the answer too, no Facey lounging like a god across his lap, just the bliss of relief then an inferno to scorch away their sins with blazing hellfire. It made Murdock hot.
Murdock lowers his mouth down onto the engorged head, Bosco cusses; the plane shakily climbs past the clouds, "Too high,"
"So lower us,"
"Fuck," Murdock slides more down his throat, feeling coarse curls skim his nose, the plane plummets, Bosco's toes curling in his thick combat boots.
Gold rings rip his hair out, a wordless command grunted past clenched teeth, the tips of snowy mountains visible and approaching, fast. Bosco moans something incoherent, between cold blooded terror and bone melting pleasure. Murdock shimmies up, yanking the yoke back, the left wing torn off by steep slopes, the screech of metal deafening, smoke staining the clouds.
"We're gonna die, you crazy fool! Imma kill you,"
No we aren't, and it's a one sided promise. Barely in flight Murdock shifts the yoke, pushing peddles, and flicking switches, moving the plane to a sideways angle, "Come with me,"
Parachutes behind the back seats quickly find their way around two chests, the emergency exit is jammed so BA kicks it out; it sails through the sky, forgotten. Hands woven together the plane falls away the clouds and smoke concealing the ground, unsure of how high they were Murdock doesn't know when to pull.
They free fall, one had on the other, the second on the strings, descend towards an invisible earth with nothing but the hope – a prayer sent to a god they hardly believe in – that they wouldn't crack against the world they had left. Hannibal and Face searching for bodies lost in time and snow. Murdock yanks his cord and Bosco follows.
AN/ Another for a kink meme – (BA/Murdock. Murdock's attempts to get BA over his fear of flying. Whether he likes it or not.)