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Title: Brittle
Author: Haleth heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, Blackburn/Hoot, Hoot/Blackburn/Eversmann
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Doesn’t entirely make sense unless you’ve ready The Pretty, Lucky and Pretty Lucky, and maybe a bit of D-Tech, but Howl and From Foot to Brow in particular. Also, the return of the infamous hand thing.
Dedication: For montmorency
Disclaimer: As if. Not the real guys, not the real characters. More’s the pity.
Note: Todd was badly injured, but he’s recovered now, even if he’s not used to the idea. Hoot wants to help. And Eversmann is a foul-mouthed mmmm-mmmm.
Brittle
Todd Blackburn stood in front of the full-length mirror. Naked. Everywhere. Even his scalp. He ran his fingertips over the bristles. Not shaved to the skin, but shorn with electric clippers, all the way to a dark stubble that hid nothing. Not shape. Not paleness. Not scars.
The shape was fine, he supposed. Symmetrical and all. He’d seen guys at the hospitals with pretty fucked up skulls. His was okay. The paleness was of the sort that always occurs on a newly-shorn head, hence was not a problem. The scars… they showed. The scars on his body showed clearly as well, some from torn or burned skin, some from surgeries. He turned to the side and viewed his back. He could see ribs through his battered hide, which hid nothing.
He turned again and continued to study himself in earnest.
He looked older than before. Older than the last time he’d dared to stare in a mirror like this. His eyes were dark, and what had become permanent shadows lay beneath them. The shadows melded with his dark lashes and pupils to make his eyes look huge. Bambi-like. His cheeks were gaunt, cheekbones almost sharp. He was too thin all over. And his chin jutted audaciously, as if to say “So what? You’re not as pretty as you once were. No one expects a hardened soldier to look pretty.”
That would have been okay if he had ever been a hardened soldier, but he hadn’t. He was a kid, a raw recruit who never got to fire his weapon in a combat situation.
Why was he doing this? What was the point of torturing himself with this appraisal of every defect and shortcoming his body had to offer? If he put on all his clothes and messed up his hair, no one would guess he’d been to war. Except he couldn’t mess up his hair because he’d shaved it all off. Impetuously. In an attempt to look more like a soldier.
Even with the shaved head, someone might not associate him with war. They’d just think he’d had a rough night, and they’d be right; every night was rough.
Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight he was supposed to have a fun night out. Dinner and drinks and companionship with someone who would, in a way, understand why he was standing here, staring at himself, trying to connect with that tired, distant man in the mirror. Someone who had already connected with him.
He forced himself to look at his reflection, the pale scalp and vast eyes, the sharpness of his collarbones and the odd length of his torso. He felt a little like one of those claymation figures, one that someone stretched and laid bare, and then forgot to finish.
No, he looked like that. He felt brittle. Not at all like clay. Brittle and fragile, as if his shattered bones and organs were held together with nothing but thin wire, still mending.
Untrue. He was as mended as he was ever going to be. No more operations and doctors, no more physiotherapy. All clear. You’re good to go, Mr. Blackburn. (“Mr.”, because he was no longer enlisted.) But it wasn’t over, not by a long shot. On nights when he was alone, the bad dreams came. And even when he wasn’t alone, as much as he appreciated not being alone, he found himself constantly reminding himself that his body was less than perfect.
Incomplete.
Massive hands would have to finish molding him. He closed his eyes and imagined them shaping him, smoothing out the rough spots, plumping up the hollows, soothing his scalp. He leaned back into Hoot’s wide, sturdy chest. “You’re here,” he sighed.
“Just got in,” Hoot said.
Blackburn opened his eyes. He looked just as raw, but instead of being dwarfed, as one might think he would be by the taut expanse of Hoot’s black t-shirt, he was softened. An unadorned nude surrounded by black matte. Hoot’s long, dark-clad legs brought out the golden tone in Blackburn’s, and the nakedness of Blackburn’s skull was clothed by Hoot’s splayed fingers. He looked like a work of art.
“What are you doing?” Hoot asked.
Good question. One Blackburn could not quite shrug off.
“It is really you,” Hoot assured Blackburn with alarming confidence, as if he’d known all along, which struck Blackburn as impossible, since even Blackburn didn’t know. Other than that he’d been staring at himself and trying to connect with his reflection.
“I used to do that too,” Hoot said. “Stare at myself and wonder if things had changed me. After the first time I got wounded. First time I killed a man. First time I fucked a man. But it was always me. Those things change you, but not that much.”
He ran his hands down to Blackburn’s wrists and held them against his flanks.
“I’m not used to being so naked,” Blackburn admitted.
“Sure you are. You’re just not used to knowing it.”
Ah. Hoot had a way of making everything make sense.
“I hope you’re not planning to go out like that.” He rubbed his lips over the fresh stubble. “I like the hair, but the rest of you…”
Blackburn laughed. And that felt good.
It was a special night. They’d been what Hoot called “together” for a year. And Hoot, defying all logic and expectations, was the kind of guy who not only remembered but marked anniversaries.
What Hoot called “together” meant that it had been one year since he burst into Blackburn’s curtained area in the med tent, scared the hell out of him, and given him a handjob he’d never forget.
That Hoot had already been “together” with Eversmann at that time was a moot point. Hoot was able to compartmentalize like no other. And he’d shown up a couple of weeks before, in the middle of the night no less, and scared the hell out of Blackburn once again, to celebrate his one year of being “together” with Eversmann.
Blackburn wondered when the one-year mark with Sanderson had been reached.
Then he put Sanderson out of his mind. It didn’t matter what happened between Hoot and Sanderson. It didn’t matter that all the times Hoot and Blackburn had been together, Eversmann had been together with them. (Except for that one time when Blackburn was still in the hospital and Eversmann was out on maneuvers, and the nurse had got so mad because the IV got disconnected.)
What mattered now was that Hoot was here, and the two of them had all night to celebrate. Just the two of them. Dinner. Drinks. Maybe a movie. Definitely sex.
That first time had been a hand job and a kiss. The second was more complicated, with hand licking and mouths on cocks and Eversmann’s come on his lips and even scalp-licking. All subsequent times had involved a lot of sex, and a lot of orgasms, but no fucking for Blackburn. All the times with Eversmann and Hoot had been carefully orchestrated so that Blackburn would be protected. Even that time they’d got in trouble at the hospital had only been hands and a little tongue action. Maybe tonight would be everything.
The first time he visited the two of them at home (after the hospital), Hoot had asked Blackburn how strong he was. “Strong enough,” Blackburn had replied, but Hoot had not believed him, so he’d fucked Eversmann instead. It was the first time he’d ever fucked Eversmann, and it had made Blackburn furious.
Turned out that Blackburn being furious made Hoot want him even more. It also turned out that there was good reason for Hoot to be cautious about Blackburn’s health, because Hoot liked it fast and hard and dangerous, something that Blackburn figured out right away (even though Hoot was holding back and pretending to like it slow and easy and gentle with him) because he’d seen Hoot fuck Eversmann. He’d been there, watching and holding Eversmann and kissing him and one time, the last time, he’d stood behind Hoot with his hands on Hoot’s ass while he did the fucking. Hard fucking.
And Blackburn wanted that.
Tonight, in spite of the brittle feeling, Todd was hoping to give it to Hoot the way Hoot really liked it. Or rather, have Hoot give it to him. He pressed back against Hoot’s body. “So let’s stay home.”
‘Home’ was the upper unit of a duplex on owned by a mostly deaf old lady who lived downstairs, which suited Hoot’s style of fucking very well. Although Eversmann’d had to do some hasty explaining that one time when her treasured framed photograph of Harry Truman fell off the wall.
“Put that fucker back up with tapcons and industrial adhesive,” Eversmann had muttered when he returned from the feeble explanation and the hasty repair job.
Hoot had laughed. That was the first time Blackburn ever saw him laugh like that. Out loud. Uninhibited. Mostly Hoot smirked, which seemed to suit his character, but Hoot’s character wasn’t all that predictable. Once you got to know him, he turned out to be understanding and sensitive and not at all like the sort of person you would expect if you knew what he did for a living and how he liked to fuck.
But hadn’t been able to fuck Blackburn. Not yet.
“I’m stronger,” Todd said, looking bravely in the mirror with Hoot watching him.
“You’re getting stronger, yeah,” Hoot agreed.
“No. I mean, I’m the strongest I’ve ever been.”
Hoot shook his head. “Don’t think so. I saw you in Africa, before the battle.”
“So?”
“I mean, I saw you.”
Blackburn froze. Really? Back then? That long ago?
That was a lifetime ago.
“It wasn’t just because of Matt, you know. I wanted you from the second I saw you.”
“You did not.”
Hoot pressed his lips just above Blackburn’s ear, too softly.
“So why do you want me now? If I was so much stronger before, so much better…”
“Did I say better?” Hoot asked. He raised Blackburn’s hands up, past his chest, past his head, up in the air. Turned them and folded his hands over them so Blackburn’s fingers meshed. He ran his hands down, teasingly, triceps and armpits and torso. Down scars. Over ribs. Over skin that sprouted little goose bumps. Over a cock that wasn’t so erect as it had been moments before. Something that usually meant fear.
“What are you afraid of?”
Blackburn did not answer.
“You still think I’m here because of Matt,” Hoot said. Didn’t ask. Didn’t have to.
Blackburn shook his head.
“Tell me why you think I’m here.”
It wasn’t just because of Eversmann. Blackburn knew enough to know that. He unclasped his hands and bent his arms, cupping the back of Hoot’s head. “Matt says it’s because you like the pretty.”
Hoot bent his head down and nuzzled Blackburn’s neck. “You are that,” he murmured. “And you kiss… you kiss like…” Hoot turned Blackburn and kissed him.
Hoot could – and would – kiss Blackburn for hours. Blackburn got hard from the kiss. He pushed his hips forward and Hoot undulated in response. And made a noise deep in his throat. And grabbed Blackburn’s ass.
Finally. Blackburn was going to get fucked. Fucked the way he’d watched Eversmann getting fucked. Fucked the way Hoot liked to fuck.
First he had to get Hoot’s clothes off. He wanted Hoot as naked as him. Fortunately, Hoot had never been difficult to undress. He was always quite cooperative. And why not, with a body like that to reveal?
Hoot got naked and didn’t give Blackburn time to compare his body to Hoot’s and get flooded with doubt again. Hoot got down on his knees. “Stay there,” he said. “I want you to watch.”
Blackburn wanted to watch. Fuck. Hoot on his knees with those massive hands on Blackburn’s hips and his face pressed against Blackburn’s flat belly.
“So fucking pretty,” Hoot mumbled against his skin. Fingers played over Blackburn’s ass, pulled him closer, mouth on cock, tongue flicking.
Blackburn flashed back to a night in the hospital. He’d been in pain. A lot of pain. They were fucking around with his meds and Eversmann was there, trying to help him get through it. He’d begged Eversmann to distract him, but it was so bad he was only half hard. Eversmann had leaned over him and started to whisper about Hoot, and Hoot on his knees, sucking Eversmann’s cock, mouth hot and wet, hands all over, urgent and hungry and powerful.
Blackburn had been ready to pass that off as a fantasy invented to get him hard (which had worked like a goddamn charm) but Eversmann insisted it was real, it had really happened the night after Blackburn had been shipped stateside. Now it was happening to Blackburn and it was more than real. It was visceral. Hoot was determined to make him come hard. Blackburn knew better than to argue. He grabbed what he could of Hoot’s short but not shorn hair and braced himself. Hoot held him up, sucked him, slayed him. Blackburn tried to watch, keep his eyes open and look in the mirror so he could see Hoot’s broad back and firm ass, Hoot’s hands on his hips, Hoot’s head bobbing on his cock. Saw his face contort, his body convulse, Hoot reach down to squeeze his own cock.
Then everything went blank and Hoot was laying him down on the bed.
“Todd,” Hoot whispered. “You with me?”
Blackburn shook his head. “Fuck, Hoot. That was…” Blackburn forgot what he was going to say because Hoot rolled him over onto his stomach.
Fuck, yes. Blackburn spread his legs and stuck his ass up as high as he could.
Hoot groaned. “You’ve got a great ass,” Hoot mumbled. Hoot’s hands grabbed Blackburn by the hips and hauled him up on his knees. “I have to,” Hoot said.
Hoot’s mouth homed in on Blackburn’s asshole and Blackburn suspected he was dreaming because he was floating at least a foot off the bed. Hoot licked his asshole, fucked it with his tongue, kissed it, nibbled a little.
It wasn’t as if Blackburn was a virgin. He’d been fucked before. Eversmann had fucked him – very slow and gentle – a few times. But no one had ever licked out his ass quite like this. It was hard to breathe. Too shallow. He tried, but his stomach was tense and his hips were twisting, and the air got forced out of his lungs before it got a chance to do him any good.
“Hoot, you have to fuck me,” he managed to moan.
Hoot licked a line straight up his spine. “Fuck, yeah,” Hoot groaned. “Fuck you.” He nestled up against Blackburn’s ass.
He was huge.
Blackburn knew that. He’d touched him and sucked him and watched him fuck Eversmann. But… he was fucking huge.
“Fuck me!” he cried out. Yes, huge and hard and he wanted it inside him.
But Hoot backed off. Took his cock away from Blackburn’s ass. Slumped over and rested his head on the small of Blackburn’s back. “Can’t,” he panted.
“Why the fuck not?” Blackburn wailed.
Hoot touched Blackburn’s back, where Blackburn knew there was a scar from one of the operations.
Blackburn wriggled out from under Hoot and turned over. “Fuck that. I’m fine. I want you to fuck me, and it’s not going to hurt me.”
Hoot grabbed him and pulled him really close. “No. I can’t risk… I need Matt here to make sure.”
Oh, great. First he was too weak to fuck. Now he needed a babysitter. For someone who was supposed to be making Blackburn feel better Hoot was sure making him feel like a dumb, clumsy, damaged kid.
Hoot was kissing his head, licking his ears. Tasting him. Feeling him with his lips. Hoot was very tactile that way. “I’m going to make love to you. Make you feel so good.”
Always a good thing. But it would mean hands on his cock and a mouth, maybe fingers in his ass, when he wanted cock in his ass.
Hoot was touching him, and damn it did feel good, strong capable hands on his body. His cock was hard, and his skin tingled. “Okay,” he said. Make love to me. Show me how much you want me, he thought. Fine. Hoot could touch all he wanted. He would have to give in to his urges sooner or later. He wanted to fuck Blackburn – his cock had said so when it pressed against Blackburn’s asshole and had shuddered. Hoot had gasped like a man surfacing from a two minute underwater swim. He wanted it. He needed it. He would do it.
He made sure to press his ass into Hoot’s hands. He spread his legs whenever Hoot’s fingers drifted near his asshole. He arched and offered himself. Hoot was shaking all over, trying to suck Blackburn’s cock but Blackburn kept moaning, “Oh, yes, inside me,” and Hoot was having trouble not lunging on top and burying himself inside.
Hoot sprawled over Blackburn, keeping most of his weight on his knees and shoulders. Blackburn made sure to writhe particularly appealingly. Hoot whined.
“Todd, you have to understand. I can’t… I’ll hurt you… Matt will never forgive me.”
“You’re right,” Eversmann said.
Blackburn jumped, startled, and bumped his head against Hoot’s forehead. Hoot didn’t even flinch. He just stared up at Eversmann with a hungry look in his eye.
“I’d never forgive you if you fucked him when I’m not here,” Eversmann said as he stripped off his uniform. “You’re lucky I talked my way out of my night shift.”
Blackburn flipped back on his stomach. “Matt’s here. Go for it, Hoot.”
Two pairs of hand pulled his legs apart and Hoot’s mouth was back on him.
Eversmann kept touching Blackburn’s ass and back and legs, but he shuffled up the bed so his mouth was closer to Blackburn’s head. “He’s got a great mouth,” Eversmann said.
Oh, fuck. Eversmann was in one of his talking moods.
“He’s got his tongue so far up your ass…”
“You can’t see that,” Blackburn grunted. Talking was good. It would keep him from going crazy.
“I can see it in your eyes,” Eversmann said. “He must be fucking your asshole so hard… and I’m going to kiss him when he’s done. That tongue’s going to be in my mouth, wrapped around my tongue…”
“Fuck!” Hoot howled. He launched himself over Blackburn’s raised ass and his cock slapped against Blackburn’s hole. “You foul-mouthed mmmm-mmmm.”
They were kissing. Oh, God, they were kissing and Hoot’s cock was pressing against him. Fingers, someone’s fingers, wet and slick and slipping into him, fumbling with Hoot’s cock to get the condom on, and guiding Hoot’s cock over his hole, then into him.
Blackburn’s mouth opened wide. He would have screamed, but Eversmann shoved two fingers inside.
“Bit of a stretch at first, Todd.”
Blackburn could barely identify the source of the information as Eversmann’s voice. It had to be, because Hoot’s mouth was now attached to his shoulder and was sucking.
“Try to relax. Let yourself open up.”
Whoever was talking, he was right. It was one hell of a stretch. And he did open up. Gloriously. Deeply. Completely.
Hoot reared up and held onto Blackburn’s hips. “You wanted to be fucked,” he warned.
Blackburn grabbed the sheets and prepared himself mentally. He was going to be fucked, and fucked hard. He would feel as if his body was being assaulted at first, invaded by hostile forces. But they were welcomed, so it would…. Ah, it would hurt, just a bit, that first hard thrust, but then, oh, then it would feel like he was being massaged inside by one of those huge, brutal guys who punch and batter you to get your muscles to relax and then… oh, fuck, relaxed. Hoot driving inside him unrelentingly, cock stroking him inside, hands gripping him outside.
No words, just sounds, and Eversmann crammed his head underneath and took Blackburn’s cock in his mouth. That was too much. Blackburn couldn’t control it. He was coming again in torrents, shaking all over, with Hoot still thrusting into him.
He sagged and fell to the mattress on his side, with Eversmann’s mouth still sucking him. Okay, maybe he wasn’t quite up for this yet. He’d survived the fuck, but he wouldn’t be able to walk for quite some time.
Hoot whipped off the condom and crouched over Eversmann. “Matt, please!”
Blackburn watched Eversmann take Hoot’s angry red cock in his mouth. He didn’t suck, didn’t even move his head. He just opened his mouth, and took it in, and closed his lips around the shaft. And Hoot came.
And then Hoot slid down and closed his lips over Eversmann’s again and they shared the taste of Hoot’s come. Blackburn wanted some too, so he nudged between them and Eversmann opened his mouth and so did Hoot and the three of them shared a kiss that tasted like pure sex.
Hoot pulled away first. “Get his hand,” was all he said.
Blackburn pulled the closest of Eversmann’s hands to his mouth.
“We’re gonna make you come,” Hoot whispered in Eversmann’s ear. “And we’re not even going to touch your cock.”
Eversmann was already erect, but that made him even more erect. Blackburn kept his eyes on that rigid cock as he licked and sucked fingers and palm. Hoot did the other hand, sloppier, with a bit more teeth. Eversmann writhed between them, gasping for breath. It wasn’t going to be enough to make him come, but they could keep him hard all night long. That wouldn’t be fair. Blackburn slid one of his hands down.
Hoot stopped licking. “Don’t touch his cock.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. I’m only going to…” Blackburn shoved his hand under Eversmann and wriggled his finger against his ass.
Eversmann squeezed his eyes shut. “Please,” he said in a desperate tone.
One finger and he was over the edge, shooting come up over his stomach. Hoot immediately abandoned the hand and started to lick up the come. Blackburn kept lapping at Eversmann’s palm, letting him down slowly.
Hoot finished cleaning Eversmann’s belly and moved back up to kiss Blackburn through Eversmann’s hand. “See,” he said. “Works better with the three of us.”
Brittle feeling gone. Replaced by warmth, and a luscious pliability. “Happy anniversary,” he said.
Hoot grinned at him.
The End
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