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Hawkeye gives up on pretending and puts back the box of sulfa, instead bracing himself against the most solid of the supply shelves. BJ flicks the lights off and shoves the side of one foot against the door. If anyone tries to open it, his body will block it. He trusts that more than a hanger.
He runs his hands over Hawkeye's front, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. They both gasp a little once BJ's hands find Hawkeye's bare skin, teasing back up his belly, chest, then back down. He drags a fingertip just below the edge of Hawkeye's waistband, feeling fluttery and hot when Hawkeye bucks involuntarily against him, stomach clenching at the line between ticklish and aroused.
BJ brings his arm up diagonally across Hawkeye's chest and pulls him close, throwing him off balance, forcing him to lean back against BJ. BJ sucks a bruise into a spot he's not entirely sure a shirt collar will cover and for once, he does not fucking care.
Let the rest of them titter and gawk. Let the nurses try to figure out what girl's responsible. BJ's content with being the only one who knows, with watching from across the room and letting the sweet, dark thought of mine. mine. mine. course through him until he's warmed through and aching with it.
He wraps his other hand around Hawkeye's waist, sliding his palm down over his waistband, over his fly. Hawkeye hisses at the contact, not even fully hard yet, just overwhelmed with need. Too many listless hours spent trying not to stare across the tent, too many playful 'fantasies' spun for BJ's amusement - this week has been nothing but time, and nothing but each other, and no indication of a break coming soon.
Of course they ended up here.
"Beej." He barely whispers it. They don't talk when they're in here, (at least, they haven't before), and certainly not by name.
"Mmm?" BJ hums into the other side of his neck, kissing as his palm rubs slow circles against his stiffening cock.
"Where're you going with this?"
BJ pauses long enough to nip at Hawk's earlobe, earning him another gasp before he whispers at Hawk's ear so quietly he can't hear himself. "My knees."
Hawkeye gasps in that long, shuddery way he does when he's in pain or - as BJ has learned - incredibly aroused.
"Keep your hands where they are," BJ adds as he unbuttons Hawkeye's fly and slips a hand into his shorts. It's been awhile. With so few patients, they've shifted to on-call night shifts; a nurse will fetch them if anything arises, but for the most part, it's been Hawkeye, BJ, and Frank all night, every night. It's been taking a toll on them both. Maybe all three of them.
Hawkeye bucks into his hand before BJ can wrap his fingers around him, head bent, arms straining. He swears softly as BJ works his pants halfway down his thighs.
"Step back," BJ says, and Hawk obliges, taking BJ's position with one foot against the door, hands still braced on the shelf. BJ keeps his hand on Hawkeye's back as he comes around to kneel in the space between Hawk and the shelf. "Been wanting this for awhile," he offers mildly, freeing Hawkeye's cock and running his hand over it loosely. "You?"
"Every minute of every interminable hour of every endless day," Hawkeye says. "Though I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this."
BJ grins. "Why, Hawk. I'm surprised at you. I've always been known as a generous man." He doesn't give Hawkeye time to respond before drawing him into his mouth, feeling Hawk swell and thicken against his tongue. Above him, Hawkeye muffles a groan into his shoulder. BJ throbs. That's what he missed - not the sensation, but the sounds.
Hawk's mouth has always been his undoing.
BJ's not going to last long on his knees like this; damnit, he should've thrown down a blanket or something, but he's loathe to move with Hawkeye panting over his head. He hollows his cheeks and gives a long suck, relishing the deep sigh it elicits. He reaches up, fumbling, grabbing one of Hawkeye's arms and tugging.
Hawk gets the message and brings a hand down - not gripping, just cupping the back of his head, enjoying the suggestion of control as BJ bobs his head. Hawkeye's legs start to shake. "Beej," he whispers.
"Mmm?" Hawkeye buckles at the sensation of BJ humming around him.
"I'm not gonna last long like this."
BJ pulls off him with a pop, replacing his mouth with his hand, stroking. "Good," he whispers hoarsely. "It's been too long. You need this."
Hawkeye lets out a strangled Ahhhh of agreement, thrusting eagerly into BJ's hand. BJ holds up his other hand, close to Hawk's face as he dares. Hawkeye, knowing exactly his intention, spits into his cupped palm, relishing the added slickness when BJ switches hands. He closes his eyes, lost in the tension in his arm, his legs, the almost overwhelming sensations around his cock.
"I'm close," Hawkeye grunts, wondering at how BJ always ruins him so incredibly fast.
"Wait," BJ says, prompting a whine. "Can't leave evidence," he explains, lowering his mouth once more.
This time, Hawkeye tugs on his hair.
J's startled into a full-throated groan, which just brings Hawkeye closer. He tries to hold still, to stave off any accidental gagging as Hawkeye comes apart, fist twisting in BJ's hair as BJ swallows as fast as he can. Hawkeye is a symphony of muffled cries and held breath, exhalation and swearing.
BJ carefully folds those noises away in his memory for a lonelier night, continuing to work his lips and tongue until Hawk pulls away, gasping, "No more." BJ tilts his head back as Hawk stands up and sags against the supply shed door. BJ gets to his feet, knees protesting all the way. Hawkeye tucks himself back into his pants, but pulls BJ in for a kiss before he can get any further, like he doesn't care about the taste. Like he's so overwhelmed with gratitude it doesn't matter. He tastes like toothpaste and gin. BJ fights the urge to rut against his hips.
"What do you need?" Hawkeye murmurs, dropping a hand to cup BJ through his pants. BJ squirms, not having been entirely aware of his own needs until this very moment.
"Nothing," he says. "You needed this more than I did."
Hawkeye gives him a gentle squeeze, and BJ gasps. Hawk gives a dark chuckle. "Nice try, liar. You want me to return the favor, or something else?"
BJ squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he had something to drink, or some chewing gum. "Tell you what," he says, putting his hands gently on Hawk's upper arms. "Let's get martinis and finish this somewhere closer to the edge of town."
*
Ten minutes later and a small martini apiece, Hawkeye and BJ steal to the edge of camp. It's not lost on them that it's only available because of Margaret's recent engagement - it used to be her and Frank's spot. BJ unfurls a blanket and flops down on it, gazing at the sky. Hawkeye wastes no time in climbing on top of him, straddling his hips and bending to kiss him again, tender and slow, all the urgency of the supply shed gone. BJ cants his hips up, pressing against Hawkeye with exquisite friction. There's hours to go before sunrise, and who knows when they'll have this kind of time again? He intends to make it last.
He kisses Hawkeye until he's lightheaded with it, until he finally stops calculating and planning and randomly reviewing his few patients' most recent vitals. Hawkeye starts kissing down his neck, pulling his shirt up. BJ sits halfway up and raises his arms obediently. He could just let Hawk keep going, return the favor, as it were. His cock twitches at the thought of Hawkeye's skilled tongue.
While he's contemplating, Hawkeye pulls off his own shirt and BJ gets an idea. He shifts his hips, rolling onto his side, Hawkeye going somewhat with him before flopping down next to him.
"Hey stranger," Hawk says, moving a lock of BJ's hair out of his eyes.
How do I get to have you BJ wants to ask. It comes out as, "Hey, yourself."
"Make up your mind about what you want?"
You. Forever. "Um," BJ laughs a little bit, in the way of a student caught daydreaming.
"C'mon, Beej. You know, a good erection is a terrible thing to waste. I brought supplies, you know."
BJ raises an eyebrow.
"What, I thought I might get lucky!"
"With your track record?" BJ teases.
"I'll have you know, I don't believe in luck," Hawkeye says, leaning in. "I believe in being prepared."
"Boy scout?"
"Never. But they had some good ideas." Hawk nips softly at his lip, sliding a hand up the back of BJ's head. "Is it just me, or could the great stoic Hunnicutt use a little TLC?"
"Stoic!?"
"What else do you call a man who can't ask for what he's desperate for?"
"Oh, and what am I so desperate for?"
"Hmm," Hawkeye says, trailing a hand down BJ's back and tucking it into his waistband like a pocket. "I think you want me to ride you, Doctor Hunnicutt."
BJ 's brain does not catch up in time to stop his breath from hitching or his hips from bucking. "Is that - oh, is that what I want?"
"Mhmm," Hawkeye answers smugly. "I think you're too full of thoughts about whether or not I'll like it, or if it'll be messy, or if such a thing even works." He ticks off his responses on his fingers, tapping BJ's nose with each one. "One, more than you know. Two, less than you think. And three, I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't have ample proof."
BJ blurts out, "Yes. yes," before his conscience or his doubts have a chance to intervene. Hawkeye pulls him close, offering a deep and reassuring kiss, and then sets to work. BJ's in a bit of a haze watching Hawkeye expertly tear open the rubber with his teeth, then roll it down over BJ (who, he's a little embarrassed to admit, has never even used one) and then there's a tube of something cold and slick, and Hawkeye's hand on him, familiar and also strange, with the layer between them. And as he's touching BJ, Hawk rolls to his side and reaches his other hand around his back. BJ can't tell what he's doing, but he can guess, especially when Hawkeye's stroking hand falters and his head drops.
By the time he's straddling BJ's hips, a hand braced on BJ's chest as he lowers himself slowly, BJ's so close to the edge he has to dig his fingernails into his palm and think of the family dog to hold himself back.
Hawk goes uncharacteristically quiet, panting softly and gritting his teeth as he works himself onto BJ. He gropes around with his free hand until he find's BJ's, weaves their fingers together, and pins BJ's hand next to his head. BJ knows it's as much for balance as anything, but he's never been held like this before - held down, held firm, held in place - and the vulnerability of it has him jawdropped.
"Hawk," he whispers, stroking Hawkeye's thumb with his own. "Oh fuck,."
"Told you it'd work," Hawkeye mutters, wincing. "You ok?"
BJ nods just enough to be seen. " I should be asking you that."
Hawkeye winces again, and lowers himself another inch. "I shouldn't have been so confident about my - unh - abilities and experience," he admits. "You're...so big."
BJ blushes. "How much would it kill the mood to tell you my wife had the same problem?"
Hawkeye chuckles generously. "At the moment, I'm mostly sympathetic to her plight - hang on." He shifts his weight up, grabs the tube and reaches behind him. BJ watches, rapt with fascination as he feels the lubricant ease things considerably. Another minute, and he's nearly fully seated, Hawkeye rocking gently and muttering a mix of praise and profanity. BJ reaches for his shoulders, wanting to hold, embrace, wanting Hawkeye even closer to him. Hawkeye gets the idea and helps BJ up into a seat, wrapping his legs around him and burying a scream in BJ's shoulder.
"Are you okay?" BJ whispers frantically. Hawkeye digs his fingernails into BJ's skin and tries to breathe.
"Fuck," he hisses at BJ's ear. "You're going to split me in half, you giant - oh fuck, Beej. Are you okay? Does this feel as good for you as it does for - ?"
"Yes, yes, fuck, of course," BJ rushes to answer, rubbing his hands over Hawkeye's back, pressing a palm to the back of his head, cradling him. Tears form at the corners of his eyes, and he's not sure why, except that they're here, and they're so close.
They cling to each other, barely moving, until BJ's pulse starts to slow, and his muscles ache from the effort of holding them both up. Hawkeye gently nudges and assists until he's lying back down.
"Beej," Hawkeye says as he starts to move again, prompting BJ to clap a hand over his mouth. "Grab me that tube?"
Wordlessly, BJ passes it over, watches Hawkeye slick up his hand and start stroking himself as he rises up just an inch or two on his knees before falling back down, shallow thrusts that have BJ on the edge within seconds. Impulsively, he bats Hawkeye's hand out of the way and reaches for his cock, swiping his thumb over the head, reveling in the slippery mess of it as Hawkeye squeezes his eyes shut, chanting, "Yes - yes - yes - don't stop, don't stop, don'tstopdon'tstop - "
He spills into BJ's hand, down his wrist, falling over and nearly pulling himself off BJ's cock in the process. BJ impulsively thrusts his hips up, chasing the slick heat, his own release on a hair trigger, a desperate whimper pealing off his tongue.
"I've got you, Beej. Don't worry," Hawkeye pants, righting himself and rocking back on his heels just right. "Come on, you monster, fill me up. Give it to me, Beej, you know you want to, I can feel you right there - "
BJ flies over the edge with a shout, muscles clenching, instinctively trying to bury himself as deep as he can (someone'll have to get me pregnant first) riding the wave of Hawkeye's, "Yes, yes, yes, good, yes, so good -"
When Hawkeye pulls off of him, he doesn't even mind what a sticky mess they both are, doesn't worry about how they're going to get to the showers without being seen, or what happens if a chopper comes in before they get clean. He pulls Hawkeye close, kisses him for all he's worth, helpless against his mind's insistence that now I get to keep you.