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Peggy was lolling in a sumptuous bed trying to dig her heels into silk sheets as talented lips traced their way down her chest. The spacious bedroom wasn’t hers but was illuminated in amber hues by soft lamplight that painted gold across the silver in her bedpartner’s hair.
He drug his lips over her breast, brushing one nipple with his tongue and the other with his thumb, working them in slow, agonizing circles. Peggy’s gasps were drowned out by the rain pounding against the window. For some reason there was a momentous storm going on outside.
“Oh, Hawkeye, don’t tease.” She brushed his hair back as he continued, carding her fingers through the sweaty locks. It was overly warm in the strange bedroom. Peggy wondered vaguely why they hadn’t opened a window.
“You call this a mere tease?” He grinned into her skin, the vibrations of his throat making her shiver despite the heat. “Would you watch Shakespeare without the first act? Would you listen to only the last half of a symphony? My dearest Peg-“
He lifted his head, eyes twinkling. “Without the climb, what is the fall?”
Suddenly he was surging up, kissing her deep and filthy. Peggy clung to him, trying to pull him closer even with his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her ass. They were rocking together, eager, but unhurried. It was different than it was with B.J., Peg thought as Hawkeye took her lower lip in his mouth, kissing as though he was savoring something delectable, licking the last drops from each corner.
Sometimes B.J. acted desperate to have her, like he wouldn’t live without her body beneath him or her arms around him. She’d always been awed by that side of her husband. Awed and unmistakably turned on.
Hawkeye was different. Hawkeye made love like he’d been given the most wonderful prize in the world, and he was determined to have his fill of it, even if it took all night. It was true lust- a greed for more and more of her until both parties were spent. He seemed to make it his quest to give up his other necessities, namely air, just to see how much pleasure could be had.
Peggy didn’t know if it was healthy, but she liked it.
His mouth wandered across her collarbone as his hand delved between her legs. He had such clever, beautiful hands. Her skin prickled with pleasure, and she shivered, pulling at his hair by accident as he stroked her. She was rewarded with a moan and a deft flick of his fingers that had her shouting his name.
“Ok,” She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him up the bed. “Your turn.”
“I thought it was my turn all along.” Still, he pulled himself up to hover over her and let her get a hand around him. He was grinning ear to ear like he was enjoying a joke at her expense, but as she worked him the grin slackened, and his beautiful eyes went dark. It was all too enticing to watch him lose control, no wonder he enjoyed it so much.
“Stop.” He breathed after several moments, vulnerable for a moment before the impish grim was back. He ran a hand up her leg.
“I think we’ve come to the top of the mountain.”
Peggy smiled coyly.
“Over the edge we go.”
They laughed, even as he slid in and set the same leisurely, luxuriant pace.
It didn’t last.
The lamp was burnt out and they moved in the dark, faster, and faster as they fell apart. His hand was back between her legs, driving her mad as he thrust into her. She clutched at his lanky frame and held on for dear life, tugging at his hair to hear him groan.
Peggy woke on the very edge of an orgasm and cursed the universe’s sense of irony with a breath she’d been saving to shout Hawkeye’s name. She brought herself off quickly, sitting on the edge of the tub, her fingers trying to copy the movements he had used in her dream.
When she was done, she half marveled, half scolded herself. You’re a wife and a mother, she thought. You’re a good girl who doesn’t hide in the bathroom touching herself at the thought of her husband’s best friend. But there she was all the same with sweat cooling on her skin and her nightgown rucked up over her hips.
She’d only met Hawkeye twice, but she’d seen him grinning out from a dozen photographs. She’d heard him briefly on the phone, but she’d read about him in every last one of B.J.’s letters, keeping the little moments saved up in the desk drawer alongside her husband’s love. Between those and B.J.’s wistful stories she felt like she knew Hawkeye Pierce as well as she did her friends and neighbours. She even knew how the man went after nurses thanks her husband’s storytelling. Every now and then after Erin had gone to bed, they would find themselves on the couch, into a second glass of wine. B.J. would slip into stories of Hawkeye’s supposed exploits, and they would both find themselves a bit flushed with something strange hanging in the air between them.
In fact, this was B.J.’s fault, she reasoned as she splashed some water on her face. When she’d seen them sit knee to knee, bent in close, she had wondered if they knew each other as closely as two people possibly could. Then when they’d paused, looking up from beneath their lashes as if just remembering she were there and grinning like devils she’d wondered if they’d ever thought about getting even better acquainted and her imagination had done the rest. There had even been that dream where they had been…well…together, and she had been watching. Just thinking about it made her cheeks hot. So, the way she had started to associate Hawkeye with certain guilty desires was totally on B.J..
As she crawled back into bed, trying to will herself to finish the dream, she looked over at B.J. and felt a touch of guilt. He was sleeping fitfully, probably having nightmares about Korea again.
“Hawk-” He moaned the name like a prayer in his sleep. Peggy almost reached out to wake him until he groaned again, shifting slightly.
Oh.
Her mind whirled as she put on her housecoat and headed downstairs in the predawn light.
What were they going to do about that?
“You’ve got to…you’ve got to stop that.” B.J. breathed through gritted teeth as a hand worked its way into his pants. He was up against the wall, just outside the backdoor of the 4077 hospital and Hawkeye was flush against him, attacking his pulse point and his fly with equal enthusiasm.
“We’re going to get caught.” B.J. tried again, bucking into the welcome friction against his better judgement.
“No, we’re not. Everyone is in the mess tent seeing something even more terrifying.” Hawkeye assured him, adjusting his stance so he could stroke B.J. instead of just groping him.
“A movie?”
“Dinner.”
It was so easy to fall into their old routine. It wasn’t easy to lean back into the wall and keep things light when all he wanted to do was pull Hawkeye in and tell him how much he’d missed him, regardless of how hard he was.
Hawkeye had other plans. He gave B.J. a long, deep kiss before dropping to his knees. His eyes shining with mischief out of the shadows across his face made him look almost supernatural; an impish creature shrouded in night.
“And if I’m going to choke on something,” Hawkeye’s words broke B.J. from his musing.
“I might as well enjoy it.” With that, he freed B.J. from his pants and shorts and ran his tongue up B.J.’s length. B.J. shuddered, feeling the building groan as he squirmed against it, trying to be quiet. Hawkeye sucked him down an inch at a time, tracing the shaft with his clever tongue. He didn’t bother pinning B.J.’s hips, but was content to ride the motion as he bucked and writhed.
It was unfair how good he looked like that, B.J. thought, brushing back Hawkeye’s bangs so he could see his friends half lidded eyes and watch his lips stretch around the cock in his mouth.
“You’re beautiful.”
Hawkeye flushed at the praise and doubled his efforts. When he hummed deep in his throat B.J. nearly passed out. He threw his head back to shout, fell backward, and they were suddenly tumbling into one of their rickety cots in the swamp. It was cold, B.J. could see his breaths puffing out in time as they rocked together, seeking friction. An unidentifiable song was warbling out of the old radio, the only sound in the stillness.
Hawkeye was even more gorgeous stretched out over him. The way his breath stuttered, and his eyes slipped closed when B.J. got a hand around him and started stroking was going to be a frequent part of B.J.’s future fantasies.
“That’s perfect Beej, just like that.” Hawkeye was murmuring into his neck. “You’ve got great hands; too bad your patients only get to appreciate your surgical skills.”
It must have been an effort to keep talking. Hawkeye was panting, evidently close, and his voice was strained with pleasure, but if there was one thing Hawkeye Pierce was determined to do to his dying breath, it was talk.
Just then he was making a beautiful, keening noise, tensing up, clinging tightly to B.J.’s shoulders.
“Right there Beej, come on.”
Now he was in that one-bedroom apartment he and Peg had rented for a while, flat on his back. Hawkeye was riding him with a kind of zeal that porn stars probably had to fake. B.J. was close too. He could feel his body drawing tight.
“Somebody ought to sculpt you B.J., just like this, you’re delectable.”
Flushed from chest to ears, sweaty, and speared on B.J.’s cock, and Hawkeye was still talking.
“They could sculpt this whole scene.”
Now that would be a sculpture for a very particular audience. Not to mention it would fail to capture B.J.’s favourite parts of this particular event. Hawkeye’s gorgeous little moans and his eager movements would be totally lost.
His train of thought faltered as Hawkeye sped up, adjusting his angle and B.J. found himself thrusting up to meet him.
“Right there!” Hawkeye threw his head back his shoulders tense and his jaw slack as he cried B.J.’s name.
“Jesus!” B.J. snapped awake, alone in bad and painfully hard. Taking care of that problem was only a matter of a few strokes and a few select snapshots from his vivid dream.
It wasn’t the first dream either. B.J. reminded himself as he brushed his teeth and found his slippers. Guilt settled in his belly as he went downstairs. He couldn’t control his dreams, but if he dreamt it, he’d obviously felt it. Judging by his dream response to Hawkeye’s advances he felt it pretty strongly.
B.J. sighed as he reached the kitchen. Sooner or later, he was going to have to figure this out. He would have to come clean with Peg and admit to his attraction for what it was. He would have to talk to Hawkeye too. Not necessarily about the content of his dreams, he blushed at the thought, but about the fact that they had more in common than they had originally thought.
B.J. would never hear the end of that one.
Peg had coffee ready and was handing him a cup before he’d even finished his thought.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked softly. She smiled slowly.
“I was dreaming strange things.”
They sat in an unusually awkward silence watching Erin play in the other room.
“I was thinking about Thanksgiving.” Peg said finally. She let the thought sit between them like a confession.
“Maybe we should spend it in Maine.” She flushed, looking down into her cup. B.J. almost choked on his coffee.
“Why do you say that?” She couldn’t possibly know.
Peg gave him a secretive smile.
“It might be nice to see Hawkeye, in real life even.”
“What?”
Peg seemed to realize what she’d said.
B.J. spluttered in a way that was not at all subtle.
“Uncle Hawkeye?” Erin asked, eyes aglow.
Even Waggles perked up at the excitement.
“I guess I’d better call him, then.” B.J. strode to the phone, muttering under his breath.
“I wonder what he’s been dreaming.”
Fin.