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kathierif_ficTitle: Living the Dream
Fandom: A-Team (movieverse)
Pairing: Face/BA
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: There is something to this
A/N: For kink_bingo, prompt bondage (other). 1143 words.
There is something to this, Face thinks as he squirms, as much as he can. It isn’t much. BA is an extraordinary mechanic and engineer, just as Face is an outstanding conman and Murdock is the best pilot in the world. Only the best and brightest for Hannibal’s team, and if they set their eyes on a project, on a target, they don’t stop until it’s done and perfect.
Or, he amends and squirms again, as close to perfect as the results can get by means of any method that seems suitable to them.
Like this.
It may not look very elegant, but to Face, it’s stunningly, breathtakingly obvious how much time BA spent thinking about this, about him, in this situation, and Face really has to admit that it’s an engineering masterpiece. There is no way he’s getting out of this, not without help, and the only thing that’s happening as a result of his twisting and squirming is that the delicious friction makes him really hard in an almost embarrassingly short time.
And that BA’s grin is getting wider and wider. He’s trying to hide it by ducking down into the engine of his beloved van, but Face is a conman.
He can read BA’s smug satisfaction from the set of his broad shoulders and the stance of his feet.
He shifts again. The silk of his robe is pure torture against his over-sensitized skin. The fabric sticks to his body with sweat and doesn’t really offer much protection from the hard edges of rubber that dig occasionally into his skin.
Face doesn’t complain. He has an appreciation for the finer things in life, like his robe, but he was in the Army.
The occasional bumps and bruises don’t bother him.
And this, the tight fit of rubber encircling him from his shoulders to somewhere around his knees isn’t just not bothering him.
It’s exciting and arousing him.
His dick is pressed tight against his stomach, the tip wet and sticky. His hands are caught behind his back, fingers dug into hard rubber to help him hold on to the last threads of his control.
If this was anyone else bent over an engine right in front of him, any sleazeball who’d managed to get a drop on him and catch him, he would run his mouth now, poking and prodding and rubbing salt into the wounds his words and his team’s actions would have ripped, buying time and fighting the clock so his team, his unit, his family, can finish the job and hopefully come and get him.
With BA here, he doesn’t have to do that. He can fully focus on feeling, on the press of restraints across his chest, his thighs, his buttocks, the need growing in his balls and curling deep in his stomach until every breath he takes is a caress of wet silk against his body.
The smell of oil and rubber fills his nose, and to him, it’s a sexy smell right now.
BA smells like that, and BA is safe. BA takes care of him and gives him what he needs, and later, when he’s out of this and BA’s done with the engine, they are going to take a shower and fuck, but right now…?
Right now, there’s nothing he can do. Nothing but squirm and whimper and bite his lip and hope that Murdock won’t hear anything that will make him suspicious or curious.
BA straightens and picks up another tool. Sweat is sliding down his back, as if BA is affected by this, too.
He probably is. Knowing that Face is caught here, in his construction and hearing his bitten-off moans and whimpers is probably enough to give BA fantasy material for weeks, maybe even months.
The thought of BA fantasizing about Face caught helplessly and loving it sends another shockwave of arousal through Face’s body. His muscles twitch involuntarily, and he rubs against the rubber, caught in a blinding wave of sensation, growing and climbing higher and higher like a never-ending feedback loop of pheromones and sex.
Right before it gets too much and his control breaks, he forces open eyes he doesn’t remember squeezing shut. He can taste blood where he’s biting down on his lip, his hair is falling messily into his face. BA has given up even the pretense of working and tinkering with his baby and is staring hungrily at Face now.
“BA,” he rasps, “BA…”
BA is in front of him in an instant, his fingers in Face’s hair, messing it up even more with grease and sweat, and his tongue is in his mouth, kissing him deeply and not stopping until Face is making pathetically broken sounds, straining against his bonds, muscles trembling and twitching, dick wet and hot and hard against his stomach, against the silk of the robe that is firmly wrapped around him. He’s begging to be touched, but he isn’t really needing it anymore.
He’s already too far gone.
Face’s teeth nip BA’s lip, he chokes on his own sounds as his stomach muscles tremble through the crescendo of his desperate arousal until it breaks and he comes, almost untouched besides the tight fit of rubber around his body and BA’s grip on his hair, pinpricks of sensation that could turn into pain easily but won’t, BA’s grip that keeps him upright until he can lock his knees, trust his weight to them alone and open his eyes again.
One glance is enough to convince BA that he’s fine, and without a single word, he starts to remove the stack of tires from around him.
Not a word is spoken until Face is free. It’s an old agreement, based on the fact that BA likes to pretend he isn’t affected by the sight and Face likes the loss of control. As a conman, he is always in control of himself and his surroundings, using his words like a shield. When he’s like this, he doesn’t need to be in control. He doesn’t need to charm anyone.
“Don’t you love it when a plan comes together?” he now asks. His body is sweaty and covered in semen, slowly dripping down his stomach and his thighs. His robe is ruined, but his smile is perfect when he says, “Living the life, BA.”
He is free again, the mask of the conman ready to be slipped back on and used.
“Shut up, fool,” BA grunts and kisses him, and Face keeps his mask off for a little longer, complies and melts into the kiss.
There is something to it, being caught and at another person’s mercy. Face really enjoys it, as long as being caught doesn’t come with threats to his life and well-being, but he doesn’t need to be helpless to follow BA’s orders.
Absolutely not.
It’s just more fun, sometimes.
~end.
Fandom: A-Team (movieverse)
Pairing: Face/BA
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: There is something to this
A/N: For kink_bingo, prompt bondage (other). 1143 words.
There is something to this, Face thinks as he squirms, as much as he can. It isn’t much. BA is an extraordinary mechanic and engineer, just as Face is an outstanding conman and Murdock is the best pilot in the world. Only the best and brightest for Hannibal’s team, and if they set their eyes on a project, on a target, they don’t stop until it’s done and perfect.
Or, he amends and squirms again, as close to perfect as the results can get by means of any method that seems suitable to them.
Like this.
It may not look very elegant, but to Face, it’s stunningly, breathtakingly obvious how much time BA spent thinking about this, about him, in this situation, and Face really has to admit that it’s an engineering masterpiece. There is no way he’s getting out of this, not without help, and the only thing that’s happening as a result of his twisting and squirming is that the delicious friction makes him really hard in an almost embarrassingly short time.
And that BA’s grin is getting wider and wider. He’s trying to hide it by ducking down into the engine of his beloved van, but Face is a conman.
He can read BA’s smug satisfaction from the set of his broad shoulders and the stance of his feet.
He shifts again. The silk of his robe is pure torture against his over-sensitized skin. The fabric sticks to his body with sweat and doesn’t really offer much protection from the hard edges of rubber that dig occasionally into his skin.
Face doesn’t complain. He has an appreciation for the finer things in life, like his robe, but he was in the Army.
The occasional bumps and bruises don’t bother him.
And this, the tight fit of rubber encircling him from his shoulders to somewhere around his knees isn’t just not bothering him.
It’s exciting and arousing him.
His dick is pressed tight against his stomach, the tip wet and sticky. His hands are caught behind his back, fingers dug into hard rubber to help him hold on to the last threads of his control.
If this was anyone else bent over an engine right in front of him, any sleazeball who’d managed to get a drop on him and catch him, he would run his mouth now, poking and prodding and rubbing salt into the wounds his words and his team’s actions would have ripped, buying time and fighting the clock so his team, his unit, his family, can finish the job and hopefully come and get him.
With BA here, he doesn’t have to do that. He can fully focus on feeling, on the press of restraints across his chest, his thighs, his buttocks, the need growing in his balls and curling deep in his stomach until every breath he takes is a caress of wet silk against his body.
The smell of oil and rubber fills his nose, and to him, it’s a sexy smell right now.
BA smells like that, and BA is safe. BA takes care of him and gives him what he needs, and later, when he’s out of this and BA’s done with the engine, they are going to take a shower and fuck, but right now…?
Right now, there’s nothing he can do. Nothing but squirm and whimper and bite his lip and hope that Murdock won’t hear anything that will make him suspicious or curious.
BA straightens and picks up another tool. Sweat is sliding down his back, as if BA is affected by this, too.
He probably is. Knowing that Face is caught here, in his construction and hearing his bitten-off moans and whimpers is probably enough to give BA fantasy material for weeks, maybe even months.
The thought of BA fantasizing about Face caught helplessly and loving it sends another shockwave of arousal through Face’s body. His muscles twitch involuntarily, and he rubs against the rubber, caught in a blinding wave of sensation, growing and climbing higher and higher like a never-ending feedback loop of pheromones and sex.
Right before it gets too much and his control breaks, he forces open eyes he doesn’t remember squeezing shut. He can taste blood where he’s biting down on his lip, his hair is falling messily into his face. BA has given up even the pretense of working and tinkering with his baby and is staring hungrily at Face now.
“BA,” he rasps, “BA…”
BA is in front of him in an instant, his fingers in Face’s hair, messing it up even more with grease and sweat, and his tongue is in his mouth, kissing him deeply and not stopping until Face is making pathetically broken sounds, straining against his bonds, muscles trembling and twitching, dick wet and hot and hard against his stomach, against the silk of the robe that is firmly wrapped around him. He’s begging to be touched, but he isn’t really needing it anymore.
He’s already too far gone.
Face’s teeth nip BA’s lip, he chokes on his own sounds as his stomach muscles tremble through the crescendo of his desperate arousal until it breaks and he comes, almost untouched besides the tight fit of rubber around his body and BA’s grip on his hair, pinpricks of sensation that could turn into pain easily but won’t, BA’s grip that keeps him upright until he can lock his knees, trust his weight to them alone and open his eyes again.
One glance is enough to convince BA that he’s fine, and without a single word, he starts to remove the stack of tires from around him.
Not a word is spoken until Face is free. It’s an old agreement, based on the fact that BA likes to pretend he isn’t affected by the sight and Face likes the loss of control. As a conman, he is always in control of himself and his surroundings, using his words like a shield. When he’s like this, he doesn’t need to be in control. He doesn’t need to charm anyone.
“Don’t you love it when a plan comes together?” he now asks. His body is sweaty and covered in semen, slowly dripping down his stomach and his thighs. His robe is ruined, but his smile is perfect when he says, “Living the life, BA.”
He is free again, the mask of the conman ready to be slipped back on and used.
“Shut up, fool,” BA grunts and kisses him, and Face keeps his mask off for a little longer, complies and melts into the kiss.
There is something to it, being caught and at another person’s mercy. Face really enjoys it, as long as being caught doesn’t come with threats to his life and well-being, but he doesn’t need to be helpless to follow BA’s orders.
Absolutely not.
It’s just more fun, sometimes.
~end.