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And Dreamt of Templeton

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Colonel John Hannibal Smith of Good King James’ Royal Guards forced his eyes to remain open as he allowed himself to sink into the cold, cold waters of the loch. He tried, with only limited success, to tamp down the burning in his loins. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many hours he had submerged himself in frigid waters in these past weeks.

They never fixed his problem but only brought a temporary relief to his condition; a condition which would damn him in the eyes of the church, the law and his own men.

He wished with all of his being that he could rip these urging from his soul and fling them to the deepest pit of Hell. And he wished that he would never have to take another wink of sleep because every time he closed his eyes, he dreamt of Templeton and that was a sin.

“It is a sin,” Hannibal reminded himself. “It is a sin on so many levels.”

While he could never bring himself to regret it, he had always felt some guilt at the way he had forced the young man into his service. It had been different with the others.

Baracus, he had freed him from a wasted life as an oddity in King James personal guards. He had been a gift to the court from a visiting African lord; BA was too good a warrior to be trotted out like a trained bear to entertain the king and his guests.


HM Murdock was a son of a lord who already had more heirs than inheritance to go around. He was slated for a life in the monastery or military until his flights of fancy became too much of an embarrassment. His family had decided that it would be better for all, except Murdock, to be locked away until someone got the notion that a noble death serving the king’s suicide squad would serve the family best.

Templeton, he had rescued the lad from prison and the not too tender mercies of the palaces guards but he had not freed him. Instead he had conscribed the young man, unwillingly, to his service.

A sad smile flittered across Hannibal’s lips as he remembered those first turbulent days. The lad hadn’t been happy with his forced servitude. As he had told them with colorful language that would have brought a blush to even the most seasoned traveler.

Hannibal smiled to himself. He had never had his parents described as such a wide variety of animals.

Though he tried to hide it, Templeton had been scared. Scared of them, Scared of what they wanted from him and what they would do to him to get it.

He had been like a wild animal; striking out at anyone who tried to get too close to him, forcing them to bind him lest he hurt someone or himself.

Hannibal took a deep breath, pulled his head under the waters and held his breath until his lungs ached. He should have let him go then. It was an evil thing that he had done; keeping the lad, refusing him a choice.

But there was something about Templeton; something in those beautiful eyes that squelched the voice of his conscience. He couldn’t risk losing the lad, perhaps never to see him again; perhaps leaving him vulnerable to someone that would not be so kind.



Hannibal wondered at the word. Certainly Templeton didn’t look at it as a kindness. He saw himself as a prisoner; one who would be used, exploited then abandoned, if not murdered. It took them several days to convince the young man that their interest in him wasn’t carnal.

Hannibal remembered the fierce glint in Templeton’s blue eyes as he threated to rip of the manhood of whoever came near him. Even if any of them had been inclined to take such liberties, he was sure that the venom in those golden dulcets would even have given Baracus second thoughts.

But even the strongest man needs to sleep sometime; eventually Templeton collapsed unable to keep his guard up another second. The lad had seemed honestly surprised that he had not been disturbed during his sleep.

It was a breakthrough. Even though he did not trust them, he had been willing to listen to their offer.


Hannibal tsked at the notion. It was a word that suggested a choice and there had never been a choice.

Oddly enough, when he understood that he was wanted for his stealth, his glib tongues and his ability to sneak even into the king’s royal chamber; Templeton began to relax.

Life had taught him to suspect the worst in people. He considered them nothing more than a blue blooded gang in want of a tool that could provide them riches before they cast it away.

After the first few mission, he grudgingly admitted that they did not seem to be out for themselves but were honestly trying to do right by the people. But he made it clear that he still did not trust them.

“Not them,” Hannibal told himself, “He did not trust me.”

And why should Templeton trust him? How many times had the lad been sent to get the lay of the land or a bit of information only to end up a prisoner under threat of death, torture or worse.

Hannibal shuddered to remember how many times they had come to Templeton’s rescue a hair breath of too late.

Was it a wonder that he had treated them like the enemy; that he had refused even to give them his name and only allowed them to call him Face?

“No one will care when I die, Templeton had said. So what difference will it make, what name you put on my tombstone.

“So cynical and bitter,” Hannibal remembered. “All he had wanted was his freedom.”

The others chose to stay with him but Templeton had run off twice. And twice he had been brought back. Both times he had expected to be punished and beaten for trying to run away.

There had not been a punishment but he had been told that now was not the time for him to be freed from his servitude.

Hannibal wondered what Templeton made of those words.

Hannibal sighed. He had not lied when he told himself that Templeton had too much raw potential to be wasted, that he had the skills that could turn this team into a force to be reckoned with and that the team gave him the security to grow into those skills. He truly believed that this was the safest and best place for the lad to be.

But it was not the only reason. And there lie the sin.

From the moment he had first seen the lad walking up the steps, pretending that he had not just locked three of his jailors in their own cell, he had felt a jolt of lightening had struck him. It was why he had engaged the lad in conversation instead of letting him pass.

Hannibal smiled as he remembered when he had discovered the truth, part of him had been impressed on the way that Templeton had so easily fooled him but the other half had been humiliated that he had been played as a fool.

His mind branded the lad a petty thief who needed to be recaptured and made to pay for his crimes. And that is what he set out to do; catching him and dragging him back into the goals. His mind told him that he was doing the right thing but his heart…

His heart told him the lad was too fine, too precious, to be returned to the drunken louts that guarded the king’s cells.

So he made the lad part of the team.

His mind told him that it would be an interesting challenge to teach the thief and to mold the ungrateful urchin into an asset to his team. His heart told him that it was a task too important to fail.

His mind defined the stirring in his loins as simple lust for a handsome face and body. His mind told him that it would dissipate with time while his heart whispered that it was something more and urged him to explore his feelings.

While his heart never gave up believing that the feelings he had were stronger and purer that a desire for common rutting; his head had won the battle.

Hannibal thought back to the night that he had heard Templeton’s first nightmare.


Angry at being woken for a good sleep, he had stalked over to the lad, prepared to give him a sound thrashing. But when he saw the young man shaking in the grip of some horrid memory and his heart heard the soft whimpering voice that pleaded for past tormentors to stop hurting him, he changed his mind.

He dropped to his knees and softly stroked the lad’s head offering soothing words until Templeton slipped back into a gentler sleep.

He never spoke of it to the lad but it opened his eyes. He noticed, for the first time, the flash of fear in the lad’s own sea blue eyes whenever unwanted hands were upon him. Though he tried to hide it, the lad had been ill used in the past and he expected it to happen again.

For him, the knowledge had changed everything. Neither his heart nor his head could stand to be another on the list of those who would hurt Templeton. So both his physical lust and the desire to share tender whispers in the night had been abandoned.

He would not take the man as a pleasure or have him as a partner, he would be satisfied with keeping him safe.

He was satisfied with that; at least, until the mission with Sawney Beane and his cabalistic tribe. After that horrible experience, he could no longer justify risking the lad’s life without his consent. So even though it killed a part of him to do it, he gave the lad his freedom.

And to his great surprise and joy, Templeton had chosen not to go. He stayed with the team and, finally, gave them his name and his trust. He accepted that he was not their prisoner but their equal.

While Hannibal’s heart sang at the knowledge that he would not lose the lad, it steeled itself never to tell Templeton how he felt lest the lad see it as an act of manipulation or, worse, a demand for repayment for a false freedom.


So he had stamped down those evil unnatural cravings, stamped them down until they were no more. Until that night, the night of the full moon, the night of those damn drums, the night they danced.

As the cold waters began to lose their sting, Hannibal closed his eyes and dreamt of Templeton

Part Two

The full moon shined brightly in the night sky as the fire cast its shadows around the camp site. Another successful mission completed; morale was high and none of the team were ready to call it a night.

Hannibal was not sure how it happened but Baracus was in the middle of a dance from his homeland accompanied by Murdock playing on a makeshift drum.

The purpose of the dance, as Baracus explained, was to train the young men from his tribe on the art of fighting. Hannibal admitted that the moves were impressive; each bang of the drum was matched with a thrust of the large lance in his lieutenant’s hand. It was easy to visualize the damage it could do to the enemy. At the last clash of the drum, the wooden weapon shattered as it struck against the ground.

It had been a very impressive show, even Murdock and Face seemed to enjoy it.

“Excellent,” Hannibal applauded.

“I sure wouldn’t want to meet you and your friends on battlefield,” Murdock said adding his praises to the colonel’s.

A smile played at the edge of Baracus’ lips, it had felt good to do this again; like he was honoring his ancestors.


His smile turned sad wondering if he would ever see his beloved mother and homeland again. Though it went against everything that he had been taught, he cursed the king who had so casually handed him off to another. He knew none of it was the fault of his team but sometimes he resented this strange world and those in it.

“Too bad that your people don’t have tribes,” Baracus snorted. “They teach us much. This dance keeps us strong and reminds us where we are from.”

Hannibal started to object. After all, Scotland was filled with clans and, impressive as the dance had been, Baracus’ tribe was hardly the first to use the rhythm of the drum to train its fighters.

“That’s not true,” Murdock said before Hannibal had been able to voice his thoughts. “What about the gypsies? They have tribes and are famous for their dancing. Right, Face?”

Hannibal shot a worried glace at the youngest member of the team. The building trust between them was still new. It had only been a week or so ago that the lad had decided to share his birth name with them.

At least the earliest name that he remembered being called.

The lad’s history was varied and mysterious. He didn’t know the identity of his kin or where he was born. The king’s soldiers had recovered him from a gypsy camp and deposited him into the nearest church. No one but the lad knew what had occurred behind those cloistered walls but Face had spent his youth living between the church, the camps and every station of life in between. And while he was learning to open up to the team, one could never tell when the lad would take offense and pull away again.

Sensing that he might have crossed a boundary, Murdock began a mumbled apology only to be interrupted.


“It’s true,” Face admitted with a smile on his lips.

The smile was not one that they often saw; the one he gave his victim when he was about talk them out of their last coin but one that he gave when he was feeling playful.

Hannibal gave a sigh of relief, grateful that the lad was feeling enough at ease that he was willing to be teased and to tease.

“Show us something,” Murdock shouted as he began to bang the drum.

Face graceful got up to his feet, slowly straightening until his hands were over his head.

‘There!” he said triumphantly.

“What?” Baracus grunted, “All you did was stand.”

“Umm, I’m afraid that I’ve got to agree with the large man,” Murdock said. “All you did was stand up. But you did it very well,” he added.

Hannibal smiled to himself. He agreed with Murdock on both points; all the lad had done was stand up but he had done it extremely well. It was like a marionette being pulled up by a master puppeteer; it was smooth and flawless.

“Was that all I did?” Face asked. “Let me do it again and give you a better view.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to ask what he meant but stopped when Templeton pulled off his shirt.

“Odd,” Hannibal thought, “my mouth is dry but my palms are all wet.”

He rubbed his sweaty hands against his trousers. He wasn’t sure what was happening until he heard an oath of amazement from Baracus.

“Damanation!” the executive officer uttered. “What type of creatures do you have in there?”

“Move closer to the fire and do it again!” Murdock exclaimed as he changed his position to get a better look.

Curious to what had caused the excitement, Hannibal forced his visual appreciation of how tight the lad wore his trousers and how low they hung on his hips to focus on the whole man.

As Templeton moved, Hannibal gaped. He had never seen anything like it. It was if some invisible monster had grabbed the lad’s stomach, collapsing it, very slowly, on itself upward to his ribs then morphed back to its normal perfection.

Face suddenly laughed, a beautiful thing, even though Hannibal suspected the lad was laughing at him.

“It’s called a belly roll,” Face explained, “and this is how we dance. HM, the drums.”

Hannibal watched in fascination as the lad’s head, shoulder and legs never moved but his hips did several full rotations to the right and then to the left.

He stopped for a quarter of a second then his hip jutted sharply to the right.

No sound was heard as Face looked up questioningly at Murdock.

“Ohh, sorry,” Murdock apologized. “I missed my cue.” His hand smacked against the drum causing a clap that reverberated in the woods.

Templeton gave him a nod then jutted his hip sharply to the left. This time, the drum coincided with the movement.

The dance continued with Templeton’s hips jutting effortlessly from side to side. It started slow but picked up more speed until the instrument sounded like the roof of an old hut in a heavy rain.

As devilishly captivating as the hips were; Hannibal noted that the lad’s shoulders were also in motion, shimmying in direct opposite to the hips. It was as if the Templeton’s top and bottom were two separate creatures. The imagery was doubled when the lad added his arms, hands and head to exhibition.

Without warning Templeton stopped; head shot back, his mouth opened and he made a strange, exotic trilling sound.

Hannibal tried to eject the evil thoughts from his brain but he couldn’t stop thinking how wonderful it would be for that mouth to make that sound while wrapped around his cock.

He wanted it to go on forever as he prayed for it to stop lest his manhood explode in his pant like and overinflated ram’s bladder.

When it was finally over, Hannibal heavily sucked air into his lungs, unaware that he had been holding his breath. He saw that Templeton was looking at him with some akin to triumph in his eyes as the others clapped their approval.

“To truly appreciate this next one,” Face said as he bent to grab something from his pack, “we’ll need this.”

Face pulled a long white, nearly translucent, scarf from his packed goods. He tucked one edge of the cloth into the right side of his trousers. He shimmied his hips experimentally and looked pleased as it stayed in place.

“Keep your eye on this,” he said to all though Hannibal suspected the words for him alone.

“Brat,” Hannibal thought. “He says that like he doesn’t know that it would take holy order directly from the Lord’s mouth for me to stop watching.”

Face flicked his hips abruptly from side to side and grinned as the cloth fluttered back and forth with the actions.

He trilled again as his body moved in sinuously in time to the beating drum. The dance was filled with small kicks, twirls, turns and vigorous juts of his hips as he moved in and out between them before he centering his attention on Baracus.

Hannibal felt a quick jolt of disappointment stab him in the heart even as his eyes delighted at the view; the lad’s hips and the scarf flittering like the bait on Satan’s fish hook.

Looking embarrassed, Baracus reached out his hand to grab the cloth only to lose it as the lad twisted his hips back out of the man’s reach.

Understanding the game, the lieutenant watched closer waiting for the right moment. The next time it tickled past his nose, he lunged for it. Baracus fell heavily on his face as Templeton nimbly twirled away making it appear as a flawlessly planned move.

Murdock set forth a flourish of drum beats in approval as Face laughed and continued his dance delicately stepping or leaping over the fallen Baracus.


As Baracus slowly pushed himself back into a sitting positon and considered the young man. Templeton continued to dance though he kept a longer distance between them and a wary eye upon him.

Baracus studied him for a moment more than let loose a roar of a belly laugh and shooed his friend away.

“I cannot catch him,” he good naturedly muttered as he took back his place.

Hannibal wasn’t sure why but the comment filled him with interest as his brain digested the meaning of the words. His eyes watched as the lad came closer than passed him and headed for the captain.

HM Murdock’s own eyes widened in surprise and amusement as the well-muscled body sashayed his way. He made a good attempt to secure the scarf but was hampered by his unwillingness to stop playing the drums.

He tried to grab it with his teeth whenever Templeton brushed close to his face but was always a shade too slow. His last attempt ended in failure as his head moved forward as Templeton non-scarved hip jutted out slamming into his brow and knocking him flat of his ass.

Murdock shook his head no at the lad’s silent dare to continue the game.

Hannibal felt his pulse quicken as Templeton turned as his eyes looked at him. The dance took on a stalking air as Face moved toward him.

Part of him wanted to turn tail and flee at having such a temptation but he was unable to run from the challenge he saw in the lad’s eye.


It was then that he saw the others’ mistake. They were watching the lad’s hips and body trying to discern a pattern to the movements when they should have been looking in his eyes.

More confident than he had been a moment ago, Hannibal waited patiently, like a predator waiting for his prize. He made no motion or showed any interest as Templeton danced around him.

Lest he give away his plan, he suppressed a smile when he saw a look of doubt flash across Templeton’s handsome features. At that second he pounced and felt a thrill of victory as his right hand firmly grasped the scarf.

He had won. He smiled in victory as he pulled the scarf but stopped as he felt it pull back.

Only dimly aware of the muted gasp of their audience, he saw that Templeton had snagged the other end and wrapped around his left hand. The look in the lad’s eyes even more challenging.

Hannibal rose to his feet, keeping his eyes locked with Templeton, until they stood face-to-face. He pulled the scarf and watched, pleased, as Face followed the pull leaning toward him.

But as soon as he let up, Face tugged the scarf toward himself. Without conscious thought, Hannibal acquiesced and leant toward the lad.

Till the day he died, he knew that he would always remember the satisfied smile on the lad’s lips.

They repeated the pulling and tugging, each motion accented by a faint tap on the drums. He didn’t know how he knew but when Templeton planned a step to the right, he countered with a similar step.

The dance was on and it was magnificent. Keeping his eyes, solely fixated on Templeton, it was as if there was one mind between them; each step, every move was countered. . He tried his best to mimic the sensuous movement of Templeton even though he suspected that they looked ridiculous when he did them.

Hannibal smiled then he laughed as they stepped, double stepped, and kicked; sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left and then full circles. Soon it was as if nothing existed in the world except the moon, the stars, the beating of the drum which matched the pulse of his heart and Templeton.

The lad was beyond beautiful when he danced. Hannibal could not remember a time when he had seen the lad so happy, so free. It was how he was meant to be. It was how they were meant to be; one soul acting in unison, together.

Lost in wild thoughts and imagination, he was unaware that somehow the space between them shortened, until they were mere inches away. All he saw was the bottomless depth of the lad’s blue eyes and all he could smell was the sweet scent of heather on the lad’s breath.

It was as if he had died and had been granted this perfect moment, a second of time which seemed to last forever.

Then it was broken as he felt the feathery caress of Templeton’s finger as it brushed against his cheek. He saw what he had never thought possible to see in the Templeton’s eyes; desire.

Shocked he lost his hold on the scarf.

Hannibal shook his head, he had to be mistaken. It had not been desire that he saw, just the fevered dream of a foolish old man.

He heard BA and Murdock cheer as Face held the scarf above his head in triumph. The lad still smiled, flushed with happiness, looking like he had discovered a secret that he couldn’t wait to share.


Hannibal wanted badly to ask but was afraid of the answer. Needing to take back control lest he make a fool of himself, he fell back into commander mode.

“Thank you for the dance, lad” he said with a slight bow, hoping that no one heard the huskiness of his voice. “But it is getting late and we should be bedding down.”

“Damn,” he thought as he blushed and saw the amusement in the lad’s eyes, “that came out wrong.”

“I will take first watch,” he added as he tried to maintain his dignity.

“Would you like some company,” Templeton asked in an innocuous tone.

Though he said it in a near whisper, it shouted and echoed in Hannibal’s ears.

“No,” He answered a shade too quickly. “My thoughts will be enough company tonight.”

“Damn,” he thought again as the blush which he had nearly vanquished sprang forth anew.

“As will mine,” Templeton promised. He wadded up the scarf and threw it at Hannibal who easily caught it. “A souvenir of our dance. Good night my lord.”

Hannibal stared until Templeton turned his back and started toward his bedroll. He shook his head feeling as if he was waking from a dream. Suddenly remembering that he was not alone, he looked to see BA and Murdock who gazed at him with questioning eyes.

“Good night, gentlemen,” he said as he turned and ignored the whispering behind his back. It smacked of insubordination but his mind was too full of other things to address the matter.

He walked; walked until he was sure that he could not be seen and more important heard by his men. Finding a sturdy oak, he laid his cloak on the ground, sat, and leaned his back against the tree.

His cock was already hard and been so for many long difficult moments. He could give it relief even though he could not give it what it, what he, desired.

It practically leaped into his hand so grateful for human touch that it wept in his hand. He abused his body that night and many nights afterwards. And every time, before his body would spew forth his wasted seed, he closed his eyes and dreamt of Templeton.


Hannibal jerked; fully awake even the frigid pools had not dampened his desires as the warmth that spread around his lower region attested.

“Damn and double damn,” he thought. “What is left to me if these waters are no cure?”

“Trying to wash away your sins?” asked a familiar voice behind him.

Hannibal looked up at the edge of the pool and wondered if he was still dreaming.

It was Templeton.

Chapter Three

“Is there room for one more?” Face asked.

Hannibal looked up prepared to inform his team mate that he wished to be alone but all thoughts of a response disappeared when Face pulled his shirt over his head and threw it by the edge of the loch.

Hannibal closed his eyes and quietly cursed his own weakness as he heard the man’s trousers hit the ground. It was beyond wrong to use the lad’s innocent request to clean away the day’s dirt as an opportunity to satisfy his own debauched desires. But if he didn’t have the strength to say no; he, at least, needed the strength not to look.

A nearby splash told him that it was safe to open his eyes.

“It feels good,” Face remarked as he treaded the water.

“It looks good too,” Hannibal thought as he gaped at the tone body which shimmered just under the surface of the pool like a candle in a house of ill repute.

“You seem to be spending a lot of time in the waters,” Face said.

Unsure if it was a question or an observation, so Hannibal remained quiet as he silently ordered his groin to stop noticing how close the lad was to him.

“If it’s for relaxation, it doesn’t seem to be working,” Face said. “You appear tense.”

“The price of being the leader,” Hannibal sighed mentally hoping the Adonis would find someone else to torment with his beauty.

“You know,” Face said cautiously, “there are many stories about gypsies’ ability to relieve stress.”


“So I have heard.”

“I, myself, am very skilled in the art.”

“Do tell.”

“Not that I offer my skills to everyone. Tales that speak of the loose morals of the gypsies are mostly lies.”

“Hmmmm,” Hannibal answered. He closed his eyes and blocked out the lad’s words while reveling in the sweet sound of his voice.

“But with someone who was interested in having his stress released and with who I wished to relieve him of his stress, I would do an excellent job. If someone was interested.”

Hannibal nodded his head and wondered at the touch of exasperation in Face’s tone. The lad seemed to be annoyed at something.

“Are you listening to me?” Face asked.

“Defintely annoyed,” Hannibal realized as he searched his memory for the conversation.

“Yes,” he answered. “You’re telling me that you’re stressed.”

Hannibal opened his eyes to see if he had blew out the flicker of Templeton’s temper but was surprised to see just how close the lad had moved to him. There was only the scarcest of space between their noses.

“Are you dumber than the fish that swim this water or are you being deliberately cruel? Face demanded, no longer sounding annoyed but angry.

Hannibal felt a smile tug at his lips at the sight; dripping wet hair hanging over eyes that blazed with fury as the blonde locks dribbled water which glistened upon pursed lips. The lad looked peeved and adorable.

Hannibal wanted very much to damn all the consequences and kiss the mood away but he could not betray the lad’s trust.

“Fine,” Face fumed. “Play the village fool.

Face grabbed the back of Hannibal’s head and pulled him closer. Their lips met and the older man felt a bolt of lightning strike him in a manner that made him feel more alive than he had in ages. It physically hurt when the lad pulled away.

“There!” Face declared. “I can’t make it any clearer! Now strike me, throw me out or make me yours but do something!”

Hannibal stared in shock. His brain so filled with little voices that he couldn’t move.

“Still nothing?” Face asked thoughtfully. “But, at least, you didn’t throw me off so perhaps I should give you something else to think about.”

He pulled Hannibal’s head down again, this time taking it slower and gentler. He kissed softly then lightly nipped the lips as his hands roamed across the man’s back.


The flash of pain and pleasure awoke something inside of him. Hannibal’s arms wrapped around the younger man, puller him closer deepening the kiss.

Face surged forward causing the two to fall backwards and submerging them in the dark waters.

A moment later two bodies popped up sputtering out water and laughing at their own absurdities.

“Not my best seduction,” Face admitted as he moved slightly away from the colonel but still close enough to touch him, “but I usually know if my attentions are desired.”

“They are,” Hannibal responded hoping that his sincerity could be heard in his words.

“I was never quite sure. Sometimes I could feel you wanting me but other times you pulled away like I was poison.”

“I was unsure what you wanted.”

“You accuse me of being too subtle?” Face laughed; a beautiful sound to Hannibal’s ears. “If you were unable to pick up my clues, it is little wonder that you never married.”

“They were seen and considered,”

“And?” Face asked with a little worry in his voice.

“I was worried if it was what you truly wanted or if it was what you thought that I wanted from you.”


“You thought I was giving you my body as payment?” Face asked with a frown.

“Yes, I feared that it might be so. “

“You would have had a greater fear of that months ago. I believed that I made it clear what I would do if you tried to take liberties without permission.”

“I do remember something about my smashed brain being fed to the royal swine and my guts being turned into garters for your socks.”

“And you never tried to take advantage of our positions.”

“You were never meant to be a prisoner or a slave.”

“But I was.”

“You were,” Hannibal admitted, “and for that reason I would never want to push you into something that you didn’t want, not because of threat or misplaced gratitude.”

“This is not because of gratitude or fear,” Face said as his kissed him again. “It is because you haunt my dreams and I feel I will die if I do not have you.”

“You too walk in my dreams. I cannot remember a time that I did not want you.”

“Then we have wasted enough time,” Face said as he pushed away and started to climb out of the loch.

“Come out of the waters and let me warm you up.”

Hannibal gave the younger man a boost then scrambled up after him.

He grinned at the dirty look Templeton threw at him as the lad lay sprawled on the ground.

“I could have gotten out on my own,” Face said irritated at the unasked help.

“I know you could,” Hannibal responded as he held out his hand, “but I am in a hurry to make up for the time that we’ve missed.”

Accepting the apology, Face allowed himself to be pulled up into a warm embrace.

“You’re shivering,” Hannibal observed.

“I’m cold. If you were going to make me chase you, why couldn’t you have hidden inside a warm lodge with a roaring fire?”

“Next time,” Hannibal promised. “Next time it will all be perfect.”

“It will be perfect as long as we are together. Come,” Face said as he tugged the colonel’s arm. “I’ve laid your cloak out.”

“My cloak?”

“It’s softer than mine.”


“Then by all means; only the best for you.”

Hannibal laid Face onto the cloak then laid down next to him. He stared up at the stars, unsure what to do next. He had dreamed about this moment for a long time but was scared to make a move lest he make a mistake and ruin everything.

Face waited several seconds, sighed then rolled on top of him.

“I see that you are going to make me do all the work.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to voice a protest but found it filled with the lad’s tongue which was doing things that would have made a devil blush.

Rather than try to explain all that he was feeling, Hannibal delighted in the exotic taste that was Templeton; all thoughts and worries about the team, honor and sin melted into unimportance.

“Surely something that felt this right, could not be wrong,” Hannibal told himself.

Face pulled away and began a series of kisses and nips along his chin and neck; all the time complaining.

“Work, work, work,” Face carped as he suckled on the pert breast between his lips. “Such is the lot of the lowly gypsy; dong all the work while the lord reaps the benefits.”

Hannibal cringed despite his heightened desires.

“You do not have to do this,” he reminded Templeton then yelped as the teeth closed down on his tit.

“I want to be here!” Face said in a voice which did not broke any argument. He glared at the older man.

“I want to be here with you, doing this! Don’t ever doubt that!”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Now allow me finish this.”

Hannibal let himself relax and accepted that the love that he was be given was given freely. He didn’t ask where the lad had learned to do the things that he was doing. He knew that Face had a past and those were his secrets to keep.

The kisses trailed a straight line down his chest past his stomach on onto his manhood which twitched in anticipation.

“It is nice to see that, at least, part of you is sure about this,” Face said with some satisfaction.

Another wave of doubt overcame Hannibal, Face was doing so much and all he was doing was lying on the ground; taking all the lad had to give.

“Don’t fret,” Face said using his almost supernatural ability to read the colonel’s mind. “You will be paying me back in kind.”

“Oh god, yes,” Hannibal said half- oath and half promise as Face took the throbbing cock into his mouth.

This wasn’t the first time that he had experienced this particular indulgence. There had been several encounters with ladies of the evening and one ill-advised time with Dame Margret who had wanted a diversion from her dull husband but this was the first time that he ever wanted so badly to do it for another.

As wonderful as this felt, it would not be perfect until he could see the lad withering in the same pleasure that he was feeling now. The image in his mind of Face’s manhood in his mouth screaming his name as he came, taking the lad’s seeds, tasting him.

“Tem!” he shouted as he came feeling the continuing warm sucking as every drop was drained from him.

Panting heavily, he gently tugged at the soft hair. His heart rejoiced as he saw the beautiful blue eyes and the look of satisfaction on the lad’s face.

“Come here my sweet boy,” Hannibal whispered.

Face did as asked and they kissed again; Hannibal tasting himself on the lad’s lips.

“My turn,” he said.

“You don’t…”

‘Let me. I can’t promise that I will be as good but I can promise that I want to.”

Face turned on his back and let Hannibal love him. He had joked about this but was truly shocked this was happening. It was one thing for him, an orphan with a questionable history, to do it for Hannibal but for the colonel, a respected and wealthy member of the royal court, to do it back.

Hannibal didn’t hesitate to take the cock into his mouth. It was the most beautiful part of the most beautiful person that he had ever seen.

While he was not skilled at this, he listened as Face moaned out his name. The lithe body shuddered and buckled under his touch as the cock thickened in his mouth.

“I can’t hold it in,” Face warned which only caused Hannibal to increase his suction.

A muted cry rang in Hannibal’s ears as he took all that the lad had. When it was over, he lovingly worshiped the body with a series of kisses and worked his way up to the lad’s lips.

Gathering the tired body in his arm, he pulled the cloak until it covered both of them and let sleep take them.


Hannibal woke up with a start. He looked into the dark sky and knew that it was still several hours until morning. He smiled as he looked at the sweet lad who still lay in his arms. He moved his fingers to the face and gently traced the lips that had kissed him and that he had kissed.

While asleep, he had dreamt of Templeton and it had been a beautiful dream. He and the team would finish the tasks set out for him by the royal court. One day, King James would ask him what he wanted for a reward. He would ask only for a chance to retire and live the rest of his days in peace working on his family’s lands.

He would, of course, ensure that Baracus and Murdock were well taken care of; inviting them to come with him or give them a portion of land to call their own.

Templeton, of course, would come with him. Quietly, he would petition the king to gift the lad for a yearly stipend; perhaps he would supplement it with some to his own money. Templeton would be rich; rich enough that he would be able to leave if ever he chose to, rich enough that no one would make cruel comments about his position in the Smith household.

He would officially adopt him or make him his ward; whatever it took but there would be no question that this was his heir and no doubt that he belonged by his side. Their true relationship would have to remain a secret but he had a stable of servants who could be trusted.

It would be heaven. A heaven that he would give thanks for every day of his life. And when the day came that Templeton chose to leave; when a younger woman or man took him away, he would let him go even though his heart would break.

He wouldn’t try to force him to stay or try to bribe him with money; the inheritance would still be his for there was not a better man to give it to. It would be enough to have loved him and been loved by him for whatever time that they could have together. And when he died, he would die happy to know that the lad was free to be the remarkable and wonderful person that he was destined to be.

Beneath the silver haired man that was now his sole reason for living, Face feigned sleep. He could hear the man thinking. It was as clear to him as though he was reading the Bible.

Hannibal was an honorable man who was making honorable plans for their future. But Face knew that despite the man’s sincerity, it was a future that would never be.

There had been others, in his past, who had promised to love him forever but had quickly thrown him aside. Like them, Hannibal would one day waken from his dream and realize the mistake that he had made then Hannibal would send him away.

And if not Hannibal, there would be others; the man’s friends, relatives and peers who would not allow the colonel to sully his name and reputation with so lowly beast as himself.

They would convince him they were right or they would take matters into their own hands; perhaps killing him and telling Hannibal that he had run away. And though he would never say anything, Hannibal would be grateful that he could no longer be held by an ill-advised promise.


He knew what Hannibal dreamed of but he had his own dreams.

The missions that they did for the king were dangerous. It was only a matter of time until they became fatal. When it happened, he would do all that he could to ensure that only he would pay the ultimate price.

As he was taking his last breath, he would call for Hannibal who would take him in his arms. He would make Hannibal promise to find another, someone more worthy than he. He would tell the man how greatly he was loved and Hannibal would tell him that he too was loved. Then he would leave this mortal plane and live forever beloved in Hannibal’s memory.

And that would be as sweet as anything that could await him in heaven.

“I love you, Templeton,” Hannibal whispered in his ear. “I will love you forever.”

“And I will love you with the last breath that I take,” Face said back.

They wrapped the cloak tighter around and went back to sleep. There they dreamt of their own picture of paradise.

The End