Sitting on the edge of his bed, B.A. examined his thigh wound. He’d been careful to not exercise that leg, but the stitches still looked ready to rip through his skin. Another week, and he could remove them and go back to a full workout. The time spent perfecting his body allowed him to think, study situations in ways he couldn’t when distracted by the world. From the size of his muscles, it was easy to conclude he thought slowly, and most people thought that. He’d have to agree, as three weeks of carefully working out had finally offered him a solution to a certain problem. A problem known as Hannibal.
They could have attacked their first mercenary gig with the full force of their military training, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind them. The team agreed that was a bad idea. People would fear them as much as the people they were pitted against, and be unlikely to hire them. Face voiced this objection with financial concerns, but the guys knew him better than that. It was the same objection they all had; it wouldn’t be fair or right. So they agreed, no killing. A simple, moral philosophy they could all get behind. One that left Hannibal with a shitload of work to do.
If you killed the sentries when sneaking into the enemies camp, the dead sentry no longer counted toward the plan. But if the sentry was only knocked unconscious, he could wake up. He could set off the alarm, or gather for the final confrontation with the boss. Imponderables, factors Hannibal could not predict or control, but that didn’t stop him from trying. They prevailed in the end, but Hannibal hadn’t taken a job since B.A. got stabbed in the thigh. It hadn’t escaped Hannibal’s notice that the guy stabbing B.A., while B.A. fought off four other attackers, was a security guard. Hannibal couldn’t know who had taken out that security guard and tied him with the rope that was still around his left wrist, but he knew one of them had.
They’d all noticed, and expected lectures and refresher courses on tying up people quickly and quietly. Maybe Face would allow them to buy some of those zip tie plastic cuffs, when he’d begrudged the expense before. What nobody had expected, was for Hannibal to slip away from them. They all had their own places to hang out, so if one was captured the rest had a chance to escape, so it’d taken them a while to notice. Daily calls to check in with each other were strangely terse, but then Hannibal had showed up to a meeting hung-over.
A look had passed between them and they’d talked after Hannibal had left. That night they’d started tailing him. After they’d each had a turn to follow Hannibal, they’d had another meeting. They’d all seen Hannibal getting drunk, starting fights and taking home any girl he could get. Risky behavior for a man on the run, so they’d kept up the surveillance to make sure he didn’t get arrested. Tonight was B.A.’s turn again, but now he had a plan. Hannibal usually left about 1900, so he could drink his supper and get drunk before the bar got full. Tonight, when he opened the door to leave, B.A. was, rather effectively, blocking his way.
“Hey, B.A.” Hannibal hid his surprise well, but B.A. knew him.
“Gonna invite me in?”
“Just about to go out, get some supper.” Hannibal lifted his right hand, from which his light jacket was dangling.
“Good luck with that.” B.A.’s response sounded mild, but Hannibal responded to the threat it was. He narrowed his eyes and looked around B.A. He couldn’t get out without B.A. moving, or some form of trickery that would just piss off the big man. B.A. wasn’t much of a talker, so letting him say his piece would be quickest, Hannibal decided.
“B.A., what a pleasure to see you! Come on in, my friend, tell me what brought you here.” Stepping back with a grand gesture, Hannibal was trying for easygoing. B.A. moved in to shut the door behind him, and to stand blocking it. He also kept lightly on his feet, ready to run if Hannibal made a move for one of the other, less conventional, exits.
“Hannibal, unless we kill everybody, things will go wrong. Things you can’t control. Get over it.” Hannibal’s resulting look of triumph was schooled into understanding. He’d been right, it was easier and quicker to let B.A. say his piece and move on.
“You’re right. I’ll try and remember that. If that’s all, I do have reservations.”
B.A. snorted a laugh at that. “Reservations are required at Snake Jake’s Tiki Hut?”
Hannibal blinked slow surprise at that one. He hadn’t known he was being followed, which made the situation so much worse.
“You can’t control everything, so you’ve given up controlling yourself, bossman?”
“Don’t give me that! I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m always in control.”
“Yet you didn’t even know your team was following along behind you, paying for your damage, so you could keep going back to that dive? Or did you want the owner to turn you in, have the cops waiting to arrest you one night?”
Hannibal turned away so B.A. couldn’t see his reaction, and casually tossed his jacket on the couch. Slowly walking over to the fridge, Hannibal pulled out a beer. In the few seconds it took, B.A. got to see beer was the only thing in the fridge, and even that was running low. Twisting the top off and tossing it on the table, Hannibal seemed to be considering his response.
Except, when he should have turned left to get around the couch, he went straight, running for the bedroom. He paused to lock the door, which bought B.A. the time he needed to break it down. Grabbing Hannibal by the belt, B.A. swung him face down on the bed. Hannibal turned onto his back and B.A. let him. Being on his back was a better position for Hannibal to fight from, but B.A. had just zip tied his left hand to the post at the foot of the bed. A quick glare at the thing was turned toward B.A., who shrugged.
“Face sprung for ‘em.” Hannibal tensed for action, hoping B.A. had forgotten about the knife Hannibal kept on him all times.
Of course B.A. hadn’t forgotten about that, so he started patting Hannibal down. Undoing the belt showed Hannibal hadn’t got one of those bendable belt knives he wanted so bad, so B.A. looked for a traditional knife. It wasn’t in the preferred position, nestled under a calf muscle to hide the bulge, so B.A. slid his hands upward over tight jeans. B.A. knew something was wrong, as Hannibal wasn’t fighting him, so he risked a glance up. Hannibal was staring down at him, as if seeing a hallucination or dream, until he saw B.A. looking. Hannibal blushed, something B.A. didn’t know the tough old bird was capable of.
“Untie me, Sergeant!” Hannibal commanded, falling back into the safety of command mode.
Except B.A. had only ever taken orders from Hannibal, and that hadn’t been easy to learn to do. “Command ignored, Colonel. Consider yourself lucky you don’t get a punch in the mouth to go with it.”
Hannibal moved, pulling his legs away from where B.A. leaned over him. B.A. pulled his legs back and carefully sat on them. He knew the punch was coming before he saw it, and moved with it so Hannibal wouldn’t hurt his hand. B.A. could then ignore Hannibal’s free hand as he continued the pat him down. Inside thighs were clean, so B.A. trailed his hands around to check back pockets and the small of Hannibal’s back. B.A. was expecting another attack, not the obvious swelling in those to tight jeans!
“Hannibal?” B.A. looked up to find Hannibal squeezing his eyes shut.
“There’s been a dry spell for the old man.”
“So those women you’ve been bringing here for the last three weeks weren’t doing it for you?”
“That’s right, you didn’t know your team was tailing you, watching you have emotionless sex for weeks. If they weren’t doing it for you, why did you keep going to the place?”
“Shut up, Sergeant, and that’s an order I expect you to follow.”
B.A. gave Hannibal’s ass a squeeze before pulling Hannibal’s shirt out of his waistband. The delicate hands that could bug a cell phone with parts from a car alarm drifted up to stroke perky nipples. Hannibal was twitching under him when B.A. asked in a soft voice. “You’re the plan man, so what was the plan?”
“Talking the bouncer into a haircut.”
Even as close as he was to Hannibal, B.A. barely heard the words. B.A. reviewed his assessment of the bouncer, the one he’d made in case he’d have to fight him for Hannibal’s sake. Tall, bo-flex muscles, limited fighting experience, pretty boy. Probably a stripper when younger, but pushing 45, so switched careers. Hair? Blond dreads that looked fake against his skin, a shade darker than B.A.’s. So Hannibal was after a muscular black man with short hair? In the seconds he took to process this revolutionary idea, B.A. missed Hannibal pull the knife from between his shoulder blades. It sliced the cuff, but couldn’t do much against the solid mass of B.A. on his legs except threaten.
“Let me up.”
B.A. sat up to consider the threat, and dismissed it. Hannibal wouldn’t really cut one of his men, at least not in a way to permanently injure them! B.A.’s right hand reached for the knife so Hannibal moved it to another threatening position. B.A. faked surprise, letting his right hand join his left to bust the zipper on Hannibal’s jeans as they were pulled off his hips. Two index fingers in the flap in the boxers pulled them apart, so Hannibal’s erection could grow in the air.
“Is this what you had planned for the bouncer?”
“Once I talked him into switching teams, he’d have been on his stomach before he even got to see it.”
“That’d be a shame.”
“What?” The command and pride was gone from Hannibal’s voice, and he sounded unsure. “What do you plan on doing with it? Mockery, blackmail or insubordination?”
“Black male, not extortion.” Before Hannibal could ask, B.A. scooted back so he could lean down and kiss the tip of Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal had been using the opportunity to try and escape, but froze. Shoving down what he was feeling, all the things he couldn’t say, B.A. looked up. “Promise I’ll be your only black-male-er.”
“You always have been.”
“Always wanted to, but I’ve never done this before.” B.A. said as he looked back down at the cock eagerly waiting on him. Another kiss was followed by a tentative lick. Then eager, enthusiastic licking, until Hannibal was aching for more.
“B.A., I need!”
B.A. stopped to look up, the stopping of all activity making Hannibal squirm. “You really wanna try ordering me around right now?”
“Better.” B.A. decided, and took Hannibal’s cock into his mouth.
It wasn’t deep enough, or hard enough, but Hannibal didn’t know how to say so without making it a command. And he absolutely did not want B.A. to stop for any reason! With a desperate squirm and yank, Hannibal got his belt free from his jeans still wrapped around his thighs. Looping the end through the buckle, Hannibal had a hold for his left hand. Two wraps of the free end around his right hand, and Hannibal pulled it over B.A.’s head and pulled. B.A. slid down, until most of Hannibal’s cock was in his mouth, and hesitated. If he tried to free himself, Hannibal intended to let him go, but he needed beyond rational thought!
B.A. started pulling back, but then he went back down, taking in more of Hannibal. Moaning with lust and relief, Hannibal kept a firm grip on the belt, pulling when he needed more. When B.A. started gagging, Hannibal couldn’t let go, the noise and vibrations pushing him into coming. B.A. couldn’t breathe, not used to dealing with what he had in his mouth now.
He grabbed Hannibal’s hands and jerked them both away from his head, pulling back and sitting on the edge of the bed. He coughed over the edge of the bed, and made Hannibal feel like he’d taken advantage of a friend. Hannibal slid over to pat him on the back.
“Sorry man, so sorry. You surprised me, I wasn’t ready to deal with, well, a virgin. An aggressive virgin at that!” B.A. had stopped coughing, so Hannibal moved away, not wanting to crowd him. “I’ll do better next time, if you want a next time.”
“Next time?” B.A. looked up, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Ain’t done with this time!”
Hannibal smiled, relaxing into the idea that he hadn’t put B.A. off of this thing, so B.A.’s gentle shove met no resistance and Hannibal wound up on his back again. B.A. stood to strip off his clothes, letting Hannibal get a good look at what he’d let himself in for. Hannibal couldn’t take his eyes off of it long enough to look for the lube, instead he reached blindly for it. The tube was kicked away from searching fingers, so Hannibal reached too far and started to fall just as he grabbed it.
With his jeans around his thighs, his legs couldn’t help stop him but his arms could. His emergency grip on the headboard popped the lid off the lube, coating his left hand in it. He was stretched over the bed enough that his knees touched the carpet but weren’t quite supporting anything. Before he could move, Hannibal was frozen by a throaty laugh.
“Such a nice view, just waiting to be enjoyed.”
B.A. had never sounded more perfect, his deep voice promising unspecified delights. Hannibal wasn’t going to move and risk losing out on any of those delights. B.A. brought his hand up, teasing Hannibal’s exposed wrist are he gathered some lube. When B.A.’s other hand appeared, a magicians pass had Hannibal’s hands zip tied to the bedpost.
“I don’t think Face meant for those to be used this way.”
“He ordered an extra gross for him and the crazy man to ‘experiment’ with.” B.A. informed Hannibal as he squirmed a large finger into Hannibal’s asshole. “Just friends my ass.”
“Concentrate on my ass, if you please!”
“Yes Sir!” B.A. baked, giving a salute with the finger inside Hannibal, making Hannibal moan. B.A. tried for a second lubed finger, but it wasn’t going in easily.
Hannibal bowed his head, concentrated on his breathing and relaxing all his muscles. Every part of him was screaming to tighten up, feel all of the things B.A. was doing to him, but Hannibal fought for control. Maybe, if he could forget it was B.A. (finally) doing it, he could relax.
“You’re too tight, man.”
“I don’t care, do what you want.” Couldn’t forget it was B.A., that hidden intelligence and those skilled hands, the body Hannibal had moved past his original lust for. One could get over lust, but not the other things he’d felt for B.A. since! “Come on B.A., just take me!”
“Don’t hurt people I love.”
Love was suddenly a much more magic word than please, as Hannibal melted into a relaxed puddle on the bed. A puddle with a plan. “Take off my pants.”
B.A. pulled his hand out to do so, but Hannibal expected it and didn’t voice his disappointment. With his legs free, Hannibal set his right foot on the floor, pressing the inside of his thigh against the bed. His left was moved forward and he hoped the change in angle would be enough. “Come and get me.”
Two fingers slowly entered him and met no resistance, so B.A. gave the third another chance, growling when it slid in.
“Enough stretching! I’m ready, take me now or forget it!” Hannibal had never made such an empty threat before but he was desperate. The growl had gone straight to Hannibal’s groin, and he was about ready to beg for it.
B.A. was desperate too, having waited so long for his chance at some relief tonight. And he trusted Hannibal, so he replaced his fingers with his cock. There was some resistance, so he pulled back and tried again. He was being as careful as he could but was still surprised when his balls touched Hannibal’s ass. Pulling out and sliding in soon became his only function in the world, feeling tight heat around him. Hannibal was pushing back, creating more heat and friction, making a solid slapping noise as they impacted.
B.A. gave a powerful thrust, saw Hannibal almost slide off his dick, knew Hannibal wasn’t in control of this encounter. It was such a hot thought that B.A. lost control, thrusting for all he was worth with each snap of his hips. Hannibal came sliding back, gravity helping them come together until Hannibal came completely off. He sagged against the bed, trying to get his footing, but B.A. needed!
B.A. grabbed the right leg, shoving it up and onto the bed. Torso twisted because of his bound hands, Hannibal could only wait and enjoy when B.A. got back to pounding into him. With B.A. standing between his legs, only Hannibal’s left shoulder bounced on the mattress, the rest of him floating in a sea of sex.
In this position, B.A. could see Hannibal was aroused again and grabbed the bouncing cock, holding the head in a tight fist. Hannibal might have asked for a grip around the shaft, but the pounding twisted his cockhead in B.A.’s hand and Hannibal decided he liked it. The hand on Hannibal’s hip gripped hard enough to leave bruises, B.A.’s rhythm faltered, and his fist tightened painfully on Hannibal’s cock. B.A. came with a growl, but Hannibal moaned in real pain. B.A. didn’t hear him, holding the pose while he shook through the aftershocks. Softening, he pulled out of Hannibal, setting him on the bed. The glint of the knife caught his attention, and B.A. sliced open the cuff before collapsing beside Hannibal.
Hannibal’s stretched arms were numb, but what was dripping out of his ass was demanding more. The blissed out B.A. beside him sure didn’t get rid of his second erection of the night. Such a beautiful ass, catching the street light that leaked around the cheap curtain, and Hannibal’s numb arms wouldn’t let him touch it. Or, numb arms wouldn’t let a lesser man touch it.
A useful sit-up got Hannibal moving, up to throw a leg across B.A.’s muscular legs. Snuggling down, Hannibal managed to wedge his hard-on in the crack of that fantast ass. Firm hands caressed Hannibal’s ass, even as he began to rut into B.A. No lube here, just sweat and friction, rubbing without penetration as his nipples rubbed against shoulder blades. So easy to get so close to that edge, until Hannibal was ready for one more sensation.
“Clench, squeeze, tighten around me!” Hannibal growled into those shoulders, and B.A. heard him. Too tight, too much friction and Hannibal finished, biting whatever was under his mouth. Hannibal licked lazily at the wound as he returned to his body, just enjoying the taste of B.A. under him. The tingle of feeling returning to his arms wouldn’t let him sleep, so Hannibal rested his cheek on B.A. “Didn’t mean to draw blood.”
“First time it ever felt good, bossman.”
“I like it slow and lovingly, too.”
“Tomorrow, when the need doesn’t feel like a knife in the groin.”
“I planned on trying again in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll leave the planning up to you. My plan was to keep you here long enough to make you think about the crap you was pulling.”
“A good plan works even if it doesn’t work the way you plan.”
“I must be in love, you almost make sense.”
A grunt, and Hannibal rolled off B.A. to lay beside him. “You said love first, you get to clean us up.”
“Need to, leg reopened.”
“Shit!” An exclamation and Hannibal was up. He returned with a cup of hot water and a first aid kit. “Roll over.”
“Don’t want to.” B.A. muttered, but did as he was told.
“You’re mine now, so you have to take better care of yourself.” Hannibal commanded as he cleaned the wound.
“You gonna stop planning for imponderables?”
Sparkling eyes glanced up at B.A. “Imponderables?”
“Wanna make something of it?”
“You’re mine, I’m the only one who gets see your genius!”
“And I’m the only one who gets to see your ass, unless it’s crucial to a plan.”
“Agreed.” Hannibal held out a hand, and B.A. shook it with solemn decorum. Then he pulled Hannibal in for a kiss, crushing them together.
“Keep your ass safe for me.”
“Always, because I love you, B.A.”
“Just don’t make me bleed before you say it again.”
“Understood, Sergeant.” Hannibal’s plan new involved shower sex and proving to B.A. that he loved him. That was a plan that was going to go perfectly!