Kate (kueble_fic) wrote,

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Content Exhaustion

Title: Content Exhaustion
Fandom: A-Team
Pairing: Hannibal/Face
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,921
Summary: Face knows what he wants but has trouble figuring out how to get it.
Spoilers: The A-Team Movie.
Notes: Written for the a_team_kink and posted un-betad, so any mistakes are totally my own. The prompt was "Face finally gets what he's wanted for so long: Hannibal. But then he wakes up and realizes it never really happened, and he needs to do everything he can to fix that. movie!verse preferred."

Face is dying with need. His whole body is lit up beneath Hannibal’s hands. He’s shaking and mewling and rambling things he probably shouldn’t be saying. Only Hannibal’s here with him. Finally fucking here with him, and Face can’t help having a loose tongue.

And then Hannibal fills him, soothing him with kisses and he stretches him out. Face arches into the touch, unable to get enough. They move together, as if their bodies were made for this. Face is starting to think his was, that he was put on this Earth simply to be by Hannibal’s side. He stops thinking and concentrates on feeling, because he’s wanted this far too long.

It’s rough and it’s sweaty and it’s over way too soon.

But then Hannibal’s spooning him from behind, nuzzling against the nape of his neck, and murmuring words of affection. Hannibal has one hand splayed across Face’s abs, and Face covers it with his own. He sighs and let himself fall asleep, content with that fact that his world is finally complete.

When Face wakes up, he’s lost in confusion. Hannibal isn’t behind him, but lying on his own cot across the tent. Face realizes he’s completely clothed, and shifts under his blankets, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. His mind’s blurry with images of Hannibal’s naked body, and he swears under his breath when he figures out that he was dreaming.

There’s a distinct stickiness inside his boxers, and Face cringes. He’s a grown man for god’s sake, and he hasn’t had a wet dream in years. Figures it would be the thought of Hannibal finally claiming him that sends him right back into his teens. He wipes a hand over his face, surprised to find it covered in sweat. His whole body is drenched, but he was too messed up from the dream to realize. Thankfully Hannibal is still asleep, and Face manages to change his clothing and search out a shower before he notices anything’s wrong.


Face stares into the fire, the flames a sharp contrast to the feeling of the cold beer in his hand. He hasn’t had more than a few sips, but the other guys haven’t noticed yet. Everyone’s too busy laughing at BA’s story. He got into a fight in the motor pool that afternoon. Apparently some of the new guys on base weren’t acquainted with the proper procedures and had been dead set on fucking up the alterations on BA’s latest project. People learn pretty quickly to not touch whatever BA is working on.

“Only one of them ended up in the med tent,” BA points out, laughing louder when Hannibal reaches over and claps him on the shoulder.

“You’re going to get us kicked off base,” Hannibal tells him, but he’s grinning right back.

“Nah,” Face says, figuring he should find a way to stay in the conversation even if his heart wasn’t in it, “If Murdock hasn’t gotten us thrown out, nothing the rest of us do will.”

“My exploits are a thing of legend,” Murdock says, smirking as he goes into a tale involving his hand puppets, a Humvee, and a gallon jug of homemade booze. The rest of the team hangs on his words, even though they’ve heard it before, but Face finds himself lost in his own thoughts.

He hasn’t been right since he woke up this morning. Every glance Hannibal sends his way makes him shiver, gives him flashbacks of skin on skin and Hannibal’s mouth against his. He lets his eyes fall closed, an image of Hannibal grinning down at him burnt onto the back of his eyelids.

Ok, this is getting fucking ridiculous. Sure, Face has been half in love with his CO for...as long as he can remember, but he hasn’t been this stupid about it until now. All it takes is one - admittedly smoking hot - dream and he’s falling apart?

Face looks up and catches Hannibal watching him from across the fire. The flames chase shadows over his features, but he’s smiling warmly at Face. Face nods and smiles back, a plan starting to form in his mind. Hannibal got to him, and now he’s going to get to Hannibal.


The first thing Face tries is to be as alluring as possible. It shouldn't be hard, because he is pretty damn irresistible. Or at least people keep telling him he is. It shouldn’t be too hard to crack the Colonel.

When they’re on base, it’s easy for Face to ignore parts of his beauty regiment. Maybe he goes a few too many days without touching up his scruffy look or forgets about the plethora of products he has tucked away in his toiletry kit. It’s easy to put everything to use again, and within a couple of days, Face is smelling and looking better than he has the entire time they’ve been stationed in Iraq.

He gets a few cat-calls out of some of the women on base, but no extra attention out of Hannibal. So Face takes it up another notch and goes shirtless whenever possible. The only time he’s fully dressed is when they’re on duty, and even then he pushes the limits as much as he can, unbuttoning whatever he can get away with.

“You allergic to your damn shirt or something?” BA asks him, quirking an eyebrow. Face just grins at him and tries to ignore it. But then Murdock’s there, looking at him as if he’s the crazy one.

“Shirt allergies can only mean one thing...mating season,” Murdock says, eyes wide as he shares a look with BA. They two of them seem to know something Face doesn’t, so he just flips them off and struts into the tent he’s sharing with Hannibal.

Hannibal is bent over his cot, ass in the air and head tucked around the far side of the bed. Face stops in his tracks, frozen still as he watches the fabric of Hannibal’s cargo pants tighten around his thighs. His mouth is dry, and Face starts seeing random flashes of the dream again. His hands roaming over Hannibal’s flesh, fingers digging into his hips as they move together.

“You ok, Face?” Hannibal asks him. Face blinks out of his dream, shocked to see Hannibal sitting on his bed instead of bent over it. He’s losing it, going round the fucking bend over this whole Hannibal issue.

“Just fine,” Face tells him, forcing himself to cross the room and sit on his own cot. He hopes he looks convincing, hopes Hannibal can’t hear his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Dropped my lighter,” Hannibal tells him, grinning as he holds it up. Face nods, laughing to himself. He falls back against his pillow, deciding a quick nap might fix everything. He can hear the flick of Hannibal’s lighter and tries not to imagine his lips wrapped around a cigar. He fails miserably and does his best to ignore the obscene images flooding his brain.

His plan is so not working.


Face’s next phase involves a lot of gratuitous touching. He figures that once Hannibal knows how good Face feels, he won’t be able to resist. And that could lead to a whole bunch of heavier touching that Face would really really like to get going.

He starts slowly, just brushing his fingers against Hannibal’s whenever he has the opportunity to. They’re all standing around a map, watching Hannibal outline the latest mission. Face lets his hands linger when Hannibal passes him pens or pieces of paper. He reaches out, fingertips brushing Hannibal’s forearm. Hannibal jumps a little, and Face plays it off, leaning over so he can tap one of the cars sitting on the map.

“I’m here?” he asks, even though he has the plan half memorized by now. BA scoffs and Murdock shoots him a puzzled look. Face smiles widely and taps the toy car again, focusing solely on Hannibal.

“For the third time, yes,” Hannibal tells him, rolling his eyes. He taps the car, their fingers touching. Face might be imagining it, but it seems like Hannibal lets his hand rest on top of Face’s for longer than necessary.

“It’s a good plan,” Face says, even though everyone knows it is. Hannibal doesn’t make bad plans. That’s why he has and always will be in charge.

“It’s a damn good plan,” BA echos, nodding in approval. Murdock’s bouncing from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, and everyone can tell he’s as eager to get this set in motion as the rest of them are.

“You expect anything less from me?” Hannibal asks, laughing as he lights up a cigar. Face figures he can sneak in a little manly touching and chuckles before sliding his arm around Hannibal’s shoulders. The Colonel stiffens a bit, but it’s fleeting. He relaxes into Face’s touch, leaning towards him. It’s slight, but it’s enough to give Face hope.

And then Hannibal winks at him and reaches out to ruffle his hair. He salutes everyone with his cigar before peeling out of Face’s hold and heading out of the tent. Face watches him go, wondering what he’s been doing wrong. It’s definitely time to up the ante here.


Considering Face has had absolutely no problems getting people into bed with him in the past, the fact that Hannibal has managed to resist the better part of a week is really starting to throw him off his game. He needs to stop being a baby and man-up on his seduction technique.

He starts at breakfast, using one of the oldest tricks in the book. He piles his plate full of fresh fruit, making sure to grab a couple of bananas. Hannibal is surprisingly alert that morning, wide-eyed as he sips his coffee. Face sits across from him and casually peels his banana.

Face works as much of the banana as he can past his lips, all but deep-throating the damn thing right there in the middle of the mess hall. He tries to make eye contact with Hannibal while he does it, but the Colonel is staring at something over Face’s shoulder, completely oblivious to the show going on in front of him. Face sighs around the banana and eats it for real, laughing with his mouth full when one of the other soldiers trips over their own feet while watching him. Face winks at the guy, laughing harder when he blushes and scurries past their table.

Hannibal seems clueless, so Face kicks it up a notch. He takes a slice of watermelon and eats it as messily as possible, letting the juice drip down his fingers. It’s starting to curl around his wrist, and Face holds up his hand, lapping at the juice as it falls. Hannibal watches him, seemingly unaware of hot fucking hot Face just knows he has to be right now. He sucks a finger into his mouth, cleaning the watermelon off of it. The only change in Hannibal is a slight clench in his jaw, but that’s not much to go on. Face growls under his breath and rushes through the rest of his breakfast.

This is getting real annoying real fast.

After breakfast, they’re all huddled around BA’s bike. He’s spouting off specs about it, and it does sound pretty impressive, but Face can’t seem to concentrate on anything but Hannibal. He’s wearing his shoulder-holster again, which is ridiculously hot for a piece of regulation equipment. There’s just something about the way it hugs his body, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his shoulders. Face has to clench his hands in an effort to keep from reaching out and running his hands over Hannibal’s back.

Jesus, he’s the one who’s supposed to be doing the seducing here. Face smiles, realizing Hannibal managed to unknowingly seduce him years ago. Face has been following him around like a lovesick teenager for way to long now. His plan has to work out this time, because he can’t stand pining over Hannibal from afar anymore. Well, not so much afar as the other side of their shared tent, but it’s so damn infuriating!

Face pats down his pockets, grinning when he finds a capped pen in one. He pulls it out, studying it for a moment before putting the end into his mouth. He works the pen over his lip, drawing attention to his mouth. It seems to work, because Murdock gives him a funny look and even Hannibal starts paying attention to him instead of BA. Face twirls his tongue around the end of the pen, nibbling on it a bit.

All of a sudden, Hannibal is standing right in front of him, smirking at him. His eyes are glistening, and Hannibal reaches out to take the pen from between Face’s teeth. Face shivers, hoping this is going where he thinks it is.

“You uh...you got a little something,” Hannibal says, his smirk breaking into a full out chuckle. His hand comes up, his fingers pausing right over Face’s mouth. He brushes his thumb over Face’s lips, and Face can’t help leaning into the touch. He thinks this is it. This is where Hannibal is going to give in, is going to lean close the space between them with a kiss. Somewhere in the background, he can hear BA and Murdock snickering, but he’s too far gone to care.

Only then Hannibal’s pulling away, laughing deeper as he holds his hand up in front of Face. His thumb is covered in thick blue ink, and Face groans when he realizes what just happened. He stalks into his tent, swearing at how fucking stupid he is.

It takes a full day for the ink stain to go away, and Face hates every last second of it.


Finally, Face decides fuck it and tries to be straight to the point.

Hannibal walks into their tent, stopping in his tracks when he sees Face. Face smiles and waves at him, offering up a quick prayer to whoever is listening that this works.

“Why are you half-naked in my bed?” Hannibal asks, his words drawn out and his voice uneven.

“Mostly naked, actually,” Face corrects him. He’s lying there in his boxers, sincerely hoping Hannibal will take him up on the offer.

“Point being,” Hannibal says, gesturing for Face to go on.

“Well, I tried being subtle. But it didn’t work and I was getting really ticked off with the whole thing. So I figured I should just lay my cards down and see if you were agreeable,” Face says. He gives Hannibal what he hopes is an alluring look and waits for his answer.

“Subtle? You think you were being subtle?” Hannibal asks, laughing as he starts walking across the tent. “What exactly was subtle about it? Fawning all over me or giving head to a banana?”

“But...you...I didn’t think?” Face stutters. He can feel his cheeks heating up, and suddenly wishes he had more clothes on. Of all the possible outcomes, he hadn’t honestly expected Hannibal to mock him.

“Obviously,” Hannibal says with a sly grin, “Because if you had been thinking, you would have realized that I don’t need much seduction.” He pulls his shirt over his head and leans down to undo his boot laces. Face is too shocked to move and just sits there watching him.

“You mean? With me?” Face asks, his mind spinning.

“Yeah,” Hannibal says, still laughing as he shrugs out of his pants. He keeps his boxers on and climbs into bed with Face. “I just had to make sure this wasn’t a passing fancy. Couldn’t tell if you were serious or not.”

“No, definitely not. It’s a fancy for all time,” Face tells him quickly. Thankfully Hannibal shuts him up with a kiss, because Face hasn’t been this awkward since he was fourteen and wooing his first woman. Hannibal has him all turned inside out, though.

Hannibal lowers himself onto Face, and they both shudder at the first contact of skin on skin. It’s so much like Face’s dream that he has to fight against the flashbacks. Because this is real. This is Hannibal actually touching him, actually needing him the way Face needs him.

Hannibal taste like smoke and mint, and Face arches into the kiss, sucking Hannibal’s tongue into his mouth. He wants to taste him everywhere, but they’ll have time for that later. Right now, he just needs. Hannibal nips at him, teeth worrying Face’s lower lip. He moans into the kiss, his hands tangled in Hannibal’s shaggy hair. Hannibal swallows down the moan and presses his hips against Face’s.

Face is rock solid and he can feel the hard press of Hannibal against his thigh. And this? This is something he knows how to do. Any lingering awkwardness is gone, and Face is tugging at Hannibal’s boxers, sliding them over the curve of his ass. He lifts his hips so Hannibal can help him out of his own, not breaking the kiss for longer than it takes to suck in a quick gasp of air.

Hannibal is overwhelming, his hands mapping out Face’s body as he dominates the kiss. Face gives in to him, just hangs on as Hannibal devours him. Hannibal settles between his thighs, their cocks rubbing against each other. Face cries out at the contact, breaking the kiss with his shout. Hannibal just laughs and nips at his throat, dragging his teeth over the tender skin there.

Then he reaches beneath the pillow and holds up lube and a condom. Face must look surprised, because Hannibal smirks and tells him, “Told you I was planning this, Face.” He nods, still not believing that they’ve apparently been trying to win each other over for god knows how long. He thinks about how much fun they’re going to have from here on out, and then stops thinking entirely when Hannibal slicks up his fingers and reaches between Face’s thighs.

He spreads Face’s legs, and Face feels ridiculously exposed. But Hannibal is looking at him like he’s edible, and Face blushes. It goes down to his chest, the weight of Hannibal’s gaze just deepening it more. He starts to look away, but Hannibal brushes a finger across Face’s opening and he damn near jumps off the bed.

“So fucking gorgeous for me,” Hannibal tells him, and Face believes him. All the times people have said that, he’s ignored it. But Hannibal is watching him with such reverence that Face can’t question him.

Hannibal slides one finger in, and Face hisses at the intrusion. It’s been way too damn long since he’s been breached like this, and he hopes Hannibal can be patient with him. Only it’s Hannibal he’s talking about here, so of course he’s going to do everything perfectly.

One finger is followed by a second, Hannibal’s fingers stretching him open. Face squirms against the fingers, writhing beneath Hannibal. Hannibal’s eyes never leave his, and Face stares right back, letting him know how much he’s loving this. And then Hannibal flicks his fingers at a different angle and Face gasps, pushing back against his hand. Hannibal brushes that spot again, grinning at the way Face is falling apart for him.

Another finger and Face is going to lose it. He shoves back against Hannibal’s fingers, fucking his hand. He’s desperate for more and so fucking ready for it. He’s covered in a thin coat of sweat and panting harshly by the time Hannibal withdraws his fingers.

“Ok?” Hannibal asks, his voice huskier than usual. Face nods, but Hannibal shoots him a heavy look, obviously needing more permission on the first time. Hopefully the first of many many times.

“Please,” Face whines. He already feels empty, feels hollow at the loss of Hannibal’s fingers.

But then Hannibal’s rolling a condom over his length and lining up at Face’s entrance. He leans down to kiss him while he slides in, slow in by slow inch. Face is stretched out, but Hannibal’s cock is wider than his fingers, and there’s a slight burn as he pushes inside. It’s such a good burn, though, and Face bucks his hips, driving Hannibal in all the way.

Hannibal pulls out of the kiss, biting at Face’s lip while he props himself on his elbows. His eyes are ridiculously dark and his lips bruised from Face’s. He looks beautiful, and Face would tell him that if he could remember how to talk. Instead, he’s grabbing at Hannibal, wrapping a leg over his hip and egging him on.

Hannibal snaps his hips, making Face cry out. He runs his hands down Hannibal’s back, raking his nails over his skin. Hannibal is panting against his neck, thrusting with more strength, and Face nips at his throat, silently begging for me.

The room is filled with the sharp slap of flesh against flesh, and it’s so obscene that Face can hardly handle it. He aches in all the right places, feels full to the brim with Hannibal. He bucks his hips, meeting every thrust with one of his own. Hannibal raise himself and looks down at Face, his lips parted and breath coming out in ragged gasps.

He works a hand between their bodies and wraps his fingers around Face’s dick. Face locks eyes with Hannibal, suddenly unable to look away. Hannibal pumps him, his calloused hand tightly fisted around Face’s cock.

“That’s it,” Hannibal pants out, “want to see you let go for me.”

And then it’s fucking over. Face comes, his whole body jumps as he shouts out Hannibal’s name and arches off the bed. Hannibal works him through it, his hips stuttering as he pounds into Face. A few more thrusts before he tenses and comes with a hiss. He keeps moving, a few more pumps of his hips, before collapsing on top of Face.

Hannibal kisses him, sweeter and less rushed than before. They kiss lazily, bodies too tired for much else. Face is pretty sure he’ll never tire of this, never get sick of the content exhaustion he’s currently feeling.

They’re covered in sweat and come and lube, but Face can’t imagine feeling more perfect. He whimpers when Hannibal pulls out of him, his body already missing the feeling of being filled. Hannibal ties off the condom and throws it towards the trash. He climbs out of bed, and Face is about to complain, but he just picks up one of their shirts and starts to clean them both off.

Hannibal lies on his back and tugs on Face’s arm. Face curls around Hannibal, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. This feels so fucking right, and Face feels like he could burst with happiness. He closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep, but then he remembers Hannibal’s words from before.

“What do you mean that you had to make sure I was serious. Were you up to something, too?” Face asks, shifting so he can see Hannibal’s face.

“You really think I dropped my fucking lighter?” Hannibal asks, scoffing. And then Face can’t help it, the laughter bubbles up from inside of his chest and soon he’s shaking with it. Hannibal joins him, and they lay there wrapped up in each other, just laughing until they both fall asleep.
Tags: a-team, hannibal/face, nc-17
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