Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-02 11:42 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-02 11:42 pm
Entry tags:
M*A*S*H | Nighttime | R | Hawkeye/Trapper
Title: Nighttime
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Rating: R
Pairing: Hawkeye/Trapper
Summary: Things happen in the night that can't be acknowledged during the day.
Word Count: 431
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Has been edited from its original version.
The sun sets and it doesn’t take long for them to be all over each other—hands are feeling, groping, and mapping out skin; lips are kissing, sucking, and drawing moans. They’re not wasting a second.
They’ve done this before, of course; they know where to touch, where to kiss, what will drive the other out of their mind. Here, away from the camp and the nurses and their reputations they can admit it, at least to themselves; they can indulge in it; they can revel in it.
When they go back, they’ll have to have a story ready, maybe make sure Henry gets a few calls about their ‘wild nights with the ladies’ even if they’re partially sure that Henry doesn’t buy it for a second. They’ll have to go back to pretending—Trapper and Hawkeye, skirt chasers extraordinaire—no room to be themselves, no room to be as close as they’d like to be.
Maybe it’s for the best; perhaps it’s a good thing that when they go back their bubble has to burst, keeping it fresh, new, keeping it exciting, or maybe it just allows them to keep it a fantasy, a dream; maybe it allows them to not have to think about things they don’t want to consider. But now isn’t the time to ponder on that. Now is for each other, physically, mentally, and even though it's never spoken, emotionally.
They move together, panting, gasping, crying out, begging for more, more, more, wishing it could last forever, but at the same time wanting it to end, wanting to explode, to see the stars they always see, to feel the intensity they can only bring each other, no matter how hard they try to search for others, to reach the reason that they keep coming back to each other for more.
Afterwards, they lie there together, breathing heavily, as they regain the ability to think and move. Neither of them speaks, but they never do, since they’re not sure if it isn’t wanted or if it isn’t needed—probably a little bit of both—and they give each other a look and they know.
They’re each thinking the same thing as they roll over and prepare go to sleep, vowing to remember to think up suitable stories in the morning, in the daytime, in the light, when they’ve both woken up and the dream has ended—when the fantasy is over.
Trapper yawns and falls asleep first, like normal. Hawkeye watches him for a few minutes, before being lulled to sleep himself.
The light is already off.
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Rating: R
Pairing: Hawkeye/Trapper
Summary: Things happen in the night that can't be acknowledged during the day.
Word Count: 431
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Has been edited from its original version.
The sun sets and it doesn’t take long for them to be all over each other—hands are feeling, groping, and mapping out skin; lips are kissing, sucking, and drawing moans. They’re not wasting a second.
They’ve done this before, of course; they know where to touch, where to kiss, what will drive the other out of their mind. Here, away from the camp and the nurses and their reputations they can admit it, at least to themselves; they can indulge in it; they can revel in it.
When they go back, they’ll have to have a story ready, maybe make sure Henry gets a few calls about their ‘wild nights with the ladies’ even if they’re partially sure that Henry doesn’t buy it for a second. They’ll have to go back to pretending—Trapper and Hawkeye, skirt chasers extraordinaire—no room to be themselves, no room to be as close as they’d like to be.
Maybe it’s for the best; perhaps it’s a good thing that when they go back their bubble has to burst, keeping it fresh, new, keeping it exciting, or maybe it just allows them to keep it a fantasy, a dream; maybe it allows them to not have to think about things they don’t want to consider. But now isn’t the time to ponder on that. Now is for each other, physically, mentally, and even though it's never spoken, emotionally.
They move together, panting, gasping, crying out, begging for more, more, more, wishing it could last forever, but at the same time wanting it to end, wanting to explode, to see the stars they always see, to feel the intensity they can only bring each other, no matter how hard they try to search for others, to reach the reason that they keep coming back to each other for more.
Afterwards, they lie there together, breathing heavily, as they regain the ability to think and move. Neither of them speaks, but they never do, since they’re not sure if it isn’t wanted or if it isn’t needed—probably a little bit of both—and they give each other a look and they know.
They’re each thinking the same thing as they roll over and prepare go to sleep, vowing to remember to think up suitable stories in the morning, in the daytime, in the light, when they’ve both woken up and the dream has ended—when the fantasy is over.
Trapper yawns and falls asleep first, like normal. Hawkeye watches him for a few minutes, before being lulled to sleep himself.
The light is already off.