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Title: Spread'em
Fandom/Pairing: Black Hawk Down (D-Tech), Sanderson/Hoot
Rating: Assssssfucking implied.
Warning: If you don't like assfucking, you won't like this.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Never will. Not.
Note: Takes place right after Hoot and Sanderson get back from their encounter with The Russian.
Dedication: for presentiment, who was one of many who want to hear Eric Bana say, "Spread your legs," in any language.
Spread'em
"Spread your legs," Hoot growled.
In Russian.
Which was funny, because Hoot didn't speak Russian.
But not totally implausible, because Sanderson spoke a little Russian. He had been brushing up on it, in the hotel room, on the plane, since the bathhouse. So, if the need for Hoot to ever say spread your legs in Russian arose, Hoot could ask Sanderson how to say it, and then Sanderson would say it, and then Hoot would know how.
Except if Sanderson said spread your legs - in any language - Hoot would have to spread his legs, so he'd be unlikely to actually speak the words spread your legs in Russian. He would be too busy. Too busy spreading his legs.
But Hoot had said spread your legs, and he'd definitely said it in Russian.
That had to mean something…
Hoot flexed his fingers on a shapely, firm, upturned ass.
Oh, yeah, that would be why he'd said it. Confronted by that particular, firm upturned ass, he would have no choice but to say, spread your legs.
So he'd said, "Spread your legs."
Except they'd left Kirill back in Toronto, and there was no way Kirill had followed them home for Hoot to paw his ass and tell him to spread his legs.
Number one, that would have been a stupid security risk.
Number two, there hadn't been enough time for Kirill to do all those hits. Kirill would finish the jobs first; he was a professional.
Number three, Hoot doubted he would have to ask. If Kirill were there, he would have already spread'em.
Although the thrill of being told should never be underestimated.
Hoot recognized Sanderson's lips brushing his ear.
"You're thinking about the Russian, aren't you?" Sanderson asked.
Hoot opened his eyes.
He was lying in bed, his and Sanderson' bed, at home. His hands were not on anyone's firm, upturned ass, shapely or not. They were clenching the edge of the sheet.
How the hell had Sanderson known what he was thinking about? He hadn't even known, at first.
Sanderson's fingers closed around his cock.
That wasn't evidence. Was it? A hard on didn't automatically indicate thoughts of the Russian. His cock would have got hard from any number of causes. For any number of reasons. Or for no reason at all.
"God, I loved watching his cock sink into your ass," Sanderson whispered. "Never seen anything like it. And when I fucked him… I could have sworn he would never bottom for anyone, but it wasn't for me, it was for you… for you…"
Okaaaaaaay.
That was a good reason to get hard.
Hoot let out an only slightly strangled gasp when Sanderson shoved his hand down and pressed a fingertip against his asshole.
"But then, fucking him.... and you fucking me...your beautiful cock... your beautiful ass... I love fucking you."
All of Sanderson's thoughts appeared to be very Hoot-centered.
That suited Hoot just fine.
"We could arrange that," Hoot drawled.
Sanderson scrambled up to sitting and pushed Hoot's shoulder. "Roll over."
Hoot rolled. It was oddly comforting once his cock was squashed between the mattress and his body. Snug. The comfort faded when Sanderson grabbed Hoot's hips and tugged up. On his hands and knees, Hoot stared down at the pillow.
Sanderson moved behind him.
"Spread your legs," Sanderson said.
Hoot's brain jumped a track.
"Say it in Russian," Hoot challenged.
Sanderson sighed. "So you can imagine the Russian is plowing into your ass?"
That was a good idea.
But not as good as Hoot's real idea.
"No. I want you to imagine I'm the Russian.
Sanderson's hands left Hoot's hips. He rocked back on his heels, studying Hoot's ass. Hoot could tell he was pondering, mulling it over.
A hard palm cam down on Hoot's left butt cheek, smacked loudly in the otherwise still room.
"Spread your legs," Sanderson said.
Except he said it in Russian.
Back to Soldier Porn or The Long Haul, or on to the next fic, The Case of the Missing Mole
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