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agt_spookyIt's MY birthday but YOU get the gift - of fic! Enjoy my Strike Back boys celebrating Christmas.
Title: A Hallmark Moment
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
agt_spooky
Pairing: Michael Stonebridge/Damien Scott
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,083
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!
Summary: Michael and Damien find time to celebrate Christmas together in the middle of the desert.
A Hallmark Moment
By AgtSpooky
December 28, 2015
Michael Stonebridge fell back against his bed roll with a grateful sigh, staring up into the millions of stars shining brightly overhead from where he lay on the edge of the sand in the Sudan desert. It was the end of a successful mission, and for once no one was chasing them or shooting at them. The intel they’d collected had been turned over to the appropriate government authorities and they were at their ex-fil position, waiting for the Section 20 helicopter that would pick them up at dawn. It was a rare opportunity to relax and Michael was going to take full advantage of it.
Michael looked across the small fire at his partner. From the looks of it Damien Scott had the same idea, also laying on his back, arms behind his head, eyes closed. Both he and Michael had taken off their shirts against the heat, hoping for some sort of cool breeze. They’d been chatting while they set up their small camp and cooked their MRE’s then fell into companionable silence. Which is why the single beep from Damien’s watch sounded so loud in the quiet desert night.
Michael raised his head and looked at his own watch as Damien sat up and started rummaging around in his backpack. Midnight.
Curious, Michael rolled to his side. “What is it, mate?” he questioned his partner.
Damien held up a finger and continued pulling out items from his bag until he turned around and triumphantly held up a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. He moved over and sat down next to Michael and held out the box to him.
“Merry Christmas, Mike,” Damien smiled.
Michael grinned in return and accepted the gift. Christmas. He’d nearly forgotten. Easy to do when you were chasing down terrorists.
“Cheers, mate.”
“Well go ahead, don’t just stare at it, open it up,” Damien told him.
Michael shook his head at Damien’s eagerness and tore off the brown paper to reveal – a box of Earl Grey tea bags. Michael’s laugh was loud and surprised.
“How on earth did you get this?” he questioned Damien, smiling.
Damien shrugged. “Richmond gets the credit. I told her what I wanted to get you and the next thing I know the box is in my locker at HQ.”
“Well then I’ll just send her the thank you note,” Michael joked then chuckled at Damien’s offended expression. “No, seriously, thank you, Damien,” he said sincerely, as a pang of homesickness hit him, looking at the box. “It’s been ages I’ve had a proper cup of tea.”
“You’re welcome, buddy. Though how you can drink that…” he trailed off and made a face like he was sucking on a lemon.
Michael laughed. “You’re such a heathen! Have you ever even tried drinking tea?”
“I prefer my drinks to be a bit more…manly,” Damien answered with a smirk.
Michael shook his head in exasperation. “Well it’s a good thing I got you this, then…”
He turned and dug through his own backpack, pulling out a heavily padded cloth bag, which he handed to his partner.
Damien looked like a little kid sitting in front of the Christmas tree, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his first present as he accepted the bag from Michael.
Damien’s laugh was just as surprised and amused as Michael’s had been when he removed the four small airline size bottles of Jack Daniel’s.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Damien whooped, immediately unscrewing the top off of one of them and taking a swig. “Thanks, buddy,” he nodded with a satisfied grin.
“You’re welcome.” Michael picked up his tin cup from where it was sitting next to the fire, still filled partially with water. He held it out to Damien and clinked it against the bottle of alcohol. “Happy Christmas, mate.”
They both drank and then Michael pulled out his canteen and filled his cup up the rest of the way before carefully placing it on the edge of the fire to boil. He didn’t care if it was 85 degrees out and he was in the middle of a desert. It was December, it was Christmas and he was having a hot mug of tea.
He sat back against a large boulder at the edge of the tree line where they were camped, the stone warm against his bare skin. He looked over at Damien, who was staring into the flames.
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” he asked his partner. “From when you were a kid?”
Damien turned to look at him, and Michael could see him thinking, going back in time.
“I think it’d have to be when I was twelve, a year or so before my parents got divorced,” Damien answered. “So we were all still together. It was the year that my brothers and I all got new sleds.” Damien smiled at the memory. “It was a typical Christmas in Detroit, so there was a ton of snow on the ground. We couldn’t get into our goofy snowsuits fast enough and get outside. We had a small hill out in front of the house. My dad came outside with us and would give us each a push.” Damien chuckled. “We were out there for hours, laughing, sledding, throwing snowballs until we were numb from the cold. When we finally went inside my mom was there with mugs of hot chocolate and cookies.” Damien paused. “That was one of the happiest Christmases I remember.” He tilted his head. “What about you, Mike? What’s your favorite memory?” he asked and then Michael saw him immediately grimace. “I’m sorry,” Damien said quickly. “That was really stupid of me.”
Michael shook his head. He knew that Damien was well aware of his childhood, that he spent ten years in and out of foster homes since losing his parents and grandmother before he was eight years old. It had just been an automatic, reciprocal thing to ask.
“No, it’s okay,” Michael reassured him. “I actually do have one. I’d just turned seven, about six months before my grandmother passed. She was an excellent baker,” he told Damien. “And that year she finally deemed me old enough to help make Christmas cookies.” Michael smiled. “We made gingerbread men. She let me do everything from mixing the dough to rolling it out and using the cookie cutters.” He laughed. “I made a right mess of the kitchen but she didn’t say a cross word. Just kept smiling and telling me what a good job I was doing. They were the best cookies I’d ever eaten.” He paused and looked into the fire. “I never made another Christmas cookie again.”
Damien reached out and put a hand on his leg and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Michael turned to look at him again. “I’m not. I have no memory of my parents and precious few of my grandmother. So each year when I smell gingerbread I have the most vivid image of her in my head. It’s nice.”
The sound of water boiling was a welcome distraction from the somewhat melancholy mood that had fallen over the two men and Michael busied himself with carefully removing his cup and dropping a tea bag in. He didn’t let it steep for long, eager for a taste of home and nearly burned the inside of his mouth on the hot water. He closed his eyes with a pleased sigh as the familiar flavor of the Earl Grey exploded across his tongue.
Damien laughed beside him. “Dude. It looks like someone’s giving you the best blow job of your life.”
Michael cracked one eye open. “See what you’re missing out on by not drinking tea?”
Damien snorted and took another swallow of his whiskey, finishing off the small bottle and then reached for another. Michael smiled and closed his eyes again.
They drank in comfortable silence for several minutes before Michael set down his empty cup and turned to his partner.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Damien smiled. “You already said that.”
Michael shook his head. “No, for this.” He waved a hand between them. “For us.” He put his hand over top of Damien’s. “This life we live…it’s hard and it’s lonely. I didn’t think it was possible to find happiness among the death and violence that surrounds us. But I found it. With you.You’re my gift, Damien,” he finished, voice rough.
Damien was very still beside him, staring at Michael intently. He could tell his words had affected his partner, he saw it reflected in those piercing blue eyes. Not that the hard-ass, tough-as-nails solider would ever admit it out loud, though. Damien didn’t do emotion. Sure enough…
“Thanks for that Hallmark card moment, Mikey,” he cracked.
Michael shook his head in exasperation. “Fuck you,” he laughed.
Damien moved then, straddling Michael’s waist and cupping Michael’s face in his hands. “God, I hope so,“ Damien ground out, then he was kissing Michael hard.
Michael surged up against his partner, wrapping his arms around Damien’s back, slanting his mouth across Damien’s, deepening the kiss. It’d been two weeks since they’d been together, since the start of the mission, and Michael desperately wanted to be buried inside Damien.
It was obvious his partner was of the same mindset, as he dropped his hands down and started pulling almost frantically at the button and zipper on Michael’s cargo pants. Michael pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard, and pushed Damien’s fumbling fingers away, unzipping his own pants.
In a matter of moments clothing was scattered across the sand, Michael and Damien’s naked bodies entwined on top of Michael’s bed roll, their mouths once again fused together. They rutted against one another, hard cocks sliding together over and over until Damien broke the kiss with a gasp and disentangled himself from Michael’s body. Before Michael could ask him what he was doing, Damien was crawling over to his backpack and digging around inside again. When he turned back he was holding up a tube of lube and wearing a smug expression.
Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “Why am I not surprised you packed that?”
Damien crawled back over to Michael. “I was a Boy Scout, you know. Always be prepared!”
And minutes later Damien was, lying on his back, his legs wrapped around Michael’s waist as Michael slowly pushed inside his body, their twin groans of pleasure echoing in the night sky.
They made love under the Christmas stars, Michael setting up a slow, but strong and steady rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out of Damien before pushing back in. Over and over, sending them both to the edge of the cliff.
Damien’s eyes never left Michael’s, his hands flexing against Michael’s back. “Don’t stop, Michael...don’t stop...” he ground out and Michael heard the hitch in his breath, the telltale sign of his partner’s impending climax.
Michael picked up his pace, pushing in a little harder, a little deeper, searching for that spot deep inside Damien that would make him fall apart. Damien suddenly jerked beneath him, fingers digging into Michael’s skin, his head arching back against the bed roll.
“Fuck! Oh fuck…right there, right there…so fucking good…” Damien rambled, digging his heels into Michael’s lower back. He gasped sharply as Michael tilted his hips just slightly, changing the angle of penetration. “Fuck! Mike, I’m gonna…” And before he could finish his sentence he was coming with a shout, his cock pulsing between their bodies, painting their stomachs with his release.
Michael groaned deeply as he felt Damien’s body clenching around his cock as he came, pulling Michael’s own climax from him as it raced down his spine and he spilled himself inside his partner’s body in long pulses.
Damien pulled Michael down against him and they kissed deeply as their bodies shook against each other until they were both spent and boneless. They eased back from the kiss then, soft smiles on both their faces, their breathing slowing and Michael regretfully slipped from Damien’s body. He rolled onto his back and Damien followed him, flipping over to blanket Michael’s body with his own.
He wrapped his arms around Damien with a contented sigh as his partner settled against him, closing his eyes and kissing Michael softly on his neck. A moment before sleep claimed him, Michael heard Damien whisper three words against his ear.
Michael smiled broadly.
A Hallmark moment, indeed.
THE END
Title: A Hallmark Moment
Author:
agt_spookyPairing: Michael Stonebridge/Damien Scott
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,083
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!
Summary: Michael and Damien find time to celebrate Christmas together in the middle of the desert.
A Hallmark Moment
By AgtSpooky
December 28, 2015
Michael Stonebridge fell back against his bed roll with a grateful sigh, staring up into the millions of stars shining brightly overhead from where he lay on the edge of the sand in the Sudan desert. It was the end of a successful mission, and for once no one was chasing them or shooting at them. The intel they’d collected had been turned over to the appropriate government authorities and they were at their ex-fil position, waiting for the Section 20 helicopter that would pick them up at dawn. It was a rare opportunity to relax and Michael was going to take full advantage of it.
Michael looked across the small fire at his partner. From the looks of it Damien Scott had the same idea, also laying on his back, arms behind his head, eyes closed. Both he and Michael had taken off their shirts against the heat, hoping for some sort of cool breeze. They’d been chatting while they set up their small camp and cooked their MRE’s then fell into companionable silence. Which is why the single beep from Damien’s watch sounded so loud in the quiet desert night.
Michael raised his head and looked at his own watch as Damien sat up and started rummaging around in his backpack. Midnight.
Curious, Michael rolled to his side. “What is it, mate?” he questioned his partner.
Damien held up a finger and continued pulling out items from his bag until he turned around and triumphantly held up a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. He moved over and sat down next to Michael and held out the box to him.
“Merry Christmas, Mike,” Damien smiled.
Michael grinned in return and accepted the gift. Christmas. He’d nearly forgotten. Easy to do when you were chasing down terrorists.
“Cheers, mate.”
“Well go ahead, don’t just stare at it, open it up,” Damien told him.
Michael shook his head at Damien’s eagerness and tore off the brown paper to reveal – a box of Earl Grey tea bags. Michael’s laugh was loud and surprised.
“How on earth did you get this?” he questioned Damien, smiling.
Damien shrugged. “Richmond gets the credit. I told her what I wanted to get you and the next thing I know the box is in my locker at HQ.”
“Well then I’ll just send her the thank you note,” Michael joked then chuckled at Damien’s offended expression. “No, seriously, thank you, Damien,” he said sincerely, as a pang of homesickness hit him, looking at the box. “It’s been ages I’ve had a proper cup of tea.”
“You’re welcome, buddy. Though how you can drink that…” he trailed off and made a face like he was sucking on a lemon.
Michael laughed. “You’re such a heathen! Have you ever even tried drinking tea?”
“I prefer my drinks to be a bit more…manly,” Damien answered with a smirk.
Michael shook his head in exasperation. “Well it’s a good thing I got you this, then…”
He turned and dug through his own backpack, pulling out a heavily padded cloth bag, which he handed to his partner.
Damien looked like a little kid sitting in front of the Christmas tree, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his first present as he accepted the bag from Michael.
Damien’s laugh was just as surprised and amused as Michael’s had been when he removed the four small airline size bottles of Jack Daniel’s.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Damien whooped, immediately unscrewing the top off of one of them and taking a swig. “Thanks, buddy,” he nodded with a satisfied grin.
“You’re welcome.” Michael picked up his tin cup from where it was sitting next to the fire, still filled partially with water. He held it out to Damien and clinked it against the bottle of alcohol. “Happy Christmas, mate.”
They both drank and then Michael pulled out his canteen and filled his cup up the rest of the way before carefully placing it on the edge of the fire to boil. He didn’t care if it was 85 degrees out and he was in the middle of a desert. It was December, it was Christmas and he was having a hot mug of tea.
He sat back against a large boulder at the edge of the tree line where they were camped, the stone warm against his bare skin. He looked over at Damien, who was staring into the flames.
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” he asked his partner. “From when you were a kid?”
Damien turned to look at him, and Michael could see him thinking, going back in time.
“I think it’d have to be when I was twelve, a year or so before my parents got divorced,” Damien answered. “So we were all still together. It was the year that my brothers and I all got new sleds.” Damien smiled at the memory. “It was a typical Christmas in Detroit, so there was a ton of snow on the ground. We couldn’t get into our goofy snowsuits fast enough and get outside. We had a small hill out in front of the house. My dad came outside with us and would give us each a push.” Damien chuckled. “We were out there for hours, laughing, sledding, throwing snowballs until we were numb from the cold. When we finally went inside my mom was there with mugs of hot chocolate and cookies.” Damien paused. “That was one of the happiest Christmases I remember.” He tilted his head. “What about you, Mike? What’s your favorite memory?” he asked and then Michael saw him immediately grimace. “I’m sorry,” Damien said quickly. “That was really stupid of me.”
Michael shook his head. He knew that Damien was well aware of his childhood, that he spent ten years in and out of foster homes since losing his parents and grandmother before he was eight years old. It had just been an automatic, reciprocal thing to ask.
“No, it’s okay,” Michael reassured him. “I actually do have one. I’d just turned seven, about six months before my grandmother passed. She was an excellent baker,” he told Damien. “And that year she finally deemed me old enough to help make Christmas cookies.” Michael smiled. “We made gingerbread men. She let me do everything from mixing the dough to rolling it out and using the cookie cutters.” He laughed. “I made a right mess of the kitchen but she didn’t say a cross word. Just kept smiling and telling me what a good job I was doing. They were the best cookies I’d ever eaten.” He paused and looked into the fire. “I never made another Christmas cookie again.”
Damien reached out and put a hand on his leg and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Michael turned to look at him again. “I’m not. I have no memory of my parents and precious few of my grandmother. So each year when I smell gingerbread I have the most vivid image of her in my head. It’s nice.”
The sound of water boiling was a welcome distraction from the somewhat melancholy mood that had fallen over the two men and Michael busied himself with carefully removing his cup and dropping a tea bag in. He didn’t let it steep for long, eager for a taste of home and nearly burned the inside of his mouth on the hot water. He closed his eyes with a pleased sigh as the familiar flavor of the Earl Grey exploded across his tongue.
Damien laughed beside him. “Dude. It looks like someone’s giving you the best blow job of your life.”
Michael cracked one eye open. “See what you’re missing out on by not drinking tea?”
Damien snorted and took another swallow of his whiskey, finishing off the small bottle and then reached for another. Michael smiled and closed his eyes again.
They drank in comfortable silence for several minutes before Michael set down his empty cup and turned to his partner.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Damien smiled. “You already said that.”
Michael shook his head. “No, for this.” He waved a hand between them. “For us.” He put his hand over top of Damien’s. “This life we live…it’s hard and it’s lonely. I didn’t think it was possible to find happiness among the death and violence that surrounds us. But I found it. With you.You’re my gift, Damien,” he finished, voice rough.
Damien was very still beside him, staring at Michael intently. He could tell his words had affected his partner, he saw it reflected in those piercing blue eyes. Not that the hard-ass, tough-as-nails solider would ever admit it out loud, though. Damien didn’t do emotion. Sure enough…
“Thanks for that Hallmark card moment, Mikey,” he cracked.
Michael shook his head in exasperation. “Fuck you,” he laughed.
Damien moved then, straddling Michael’s waist and cupping Michael’s face in his hands. “God, I hope so,“ Damien ground out, then he was kissing Michael hard.
Michael surged up against his partner, wrapping his arms around Damien’s back, slanting his mouth across Damien’s, deepening the kiss. It’d been two weeks since they’d been together, since the start of the mission, and Michael desperately wanted to be buried inside Damien.
It was obvious his partner was of the same mindset, as he dropped his hands down and started pulling almost frantically at the button and zipper on Michael’s cargo pants. Michael pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard, and pushed Damien’s fumbling fingers away, unzipping his own pants.
In a matter of moments clothing was scattered across the sand, Michael and Damien’s naked bodies entwined on top of Michael’s bed roll, their mouths once again fused together. They rutted against one another, hard cocks sliding together over and over until Damien broke the kiss with a gasp and disentangled himself from Michael’s body. Before Michael could ask him what he was doing, Damien was crawling over to his backpack and digging around inside again. When he turned back he was holding up a tube of lube and wearing a smug expression.
Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “Why am I not surprised you packed that?”
Damien crawled back over to Michael. “I was a Boy Scout, you know. Always be prepared!”
And minutes later Damien was, lying on his back, his legs wrapped around Michael’s waist as Michael slowly pushed inside his body, their twin groans of pleasure echoing in the night sky.
They made love under the Christmas stars, Michael setting up a slow, but strong and steady rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out of Damien before pushing back in. Over and over, sending them both to the edge of the cliff.
Damien’s eyes never left Michael’s, his hands flexing against Michael’s back. “Don’t stop, Michael...don’t stop...” he ground out and Michael heard the hitch in his breath, the telltale sign of his partner’s impending climax.
Michael picked up his pace, pushing in a little harder, a little deeper, searching for that spot deep inside Damien that would make him fall apart. Damien suddenly jerked beneath him, fingers digging into Michael’s skin, his head arching back against the bed roll.
“Fuck! Oh fuck…right there, right there…so fucking good…” Damien rambled, digging his heels into Michael’s lower back. He gasped sharply as Michael tilted his hips just slightly, changing the angle of penetration. “Fuck! Mike, I’m gonna…” And before he could finish his sentence he was coming with a shout, his cock pulsing between their bodies, painting their stomachs with his release.
Michael groaned deeply as he felt Damien’s body clenching around his cock as he came, pulling Michael’s own climax from him as it raced down his spine and he spilled himself inside his partner’s body in long pulses.
Damien pulled Michael down against him and they kissed deeply as their bodies shook against each other until they were both spent and boneless. They eased back from the kiss then, soft smiles on both their faces, their breathing slowing and Michael regretfully slipped from Damien’s body. He rolled onto his back and Damien followed him, flipping over to blanket Michael’s body with his own.
He wrapped his arms around Damien with a contented sigh as his partner settled against him, closing his eyes and kissing Michael softly on his neck. A moment before sleep claimed him, Michael heard Damien whisper three words against his ear.
Michael smiled broadly.
A Hallmark moment, indeed.
THE END
