Pairing: Byer/Cross, implied Hirsch/Hillcott mancrush or more?
Rating: Mature, contains references to slash
Title: Dark Corners by MissMishka
Disclaimer: The usual preface, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.
“I first met Dan Hillcott in 1987 at what must have been the most boring neuro-pysch conference ever held. We managed to escape that dreary boredom and find a dark corner and a cold beverage,” Dr. Albert Hirsch said with a fond look at his peer Dr. Dan Hillcott. “And we’ve been finding dark corners ever since.”
The video continues to play on his monitor, but Eric Byer doesn’t see beyond those words as they take him to his own dark corners.
Those rarely found and fleeting moments in shadows with his mouth clamped tightly closed against moans of pleasure that want to spill from his lips as Aaron sucks him in deep with his broad fingers leaving bruises against the pale skin of Eric’s thighs. Moments when he would drop to his knees, sated from orgasm, and allow his mouth to press against Aaron’s while his own fingers dug into the soldier’s cargo pants to find the man’s dick leaking and neglected. He could practically feel Cross’s arms wrapping tight around him as they knelt together in the darkness while Eric quickly jerked the other man to completion as thanks for the blowjob he’d gotten.
Dark corners of empty alleyways where they could both take the time to drop trou long enough for Aaron to slick himself up and slowly fuck his way into Eric’s ass while Eric sucked on the man’s thumb to keep from crying out at the rare thrill of the penetration. He’d only ever allowed himself to be taken in those fleeting moments by that man. Aaron was so careful, so caring as he made his way inside; always seeming so uncertain of his welcome but so eager to be a part of Eric. No matter how urgent they time together was, Aaron was slow and gentle until the moment when Eric broke apart and demanded hard and fast and deeper and more and now, Aaron, please, now to get the other man’s hips thrusting at a angle that made Eric’s eyes roll in pleasure as calloused fingers wrapped around his dick to help squeeze the come from him as he came.
The dark shadows where they had met to exchange actual words without fear of being overheard or captured on recordings. Places that became their confessionals as they shared with one another truths that no one else would ever understand to purge their minds of some of the horrors they took in or carried out in the name of their country and the duty they accepted for their nation’s liberty. Those places where Eric swallowed the sins he asked Aaron to perform as a soldier while Aaron held tightly to him and refused to shed the tears evident in his voice as he spoke of expressions on dying faces. Only in the pitch blackness of such dark corners could Eric allow himself to embrace the other man with any degree of the tenderness he felt.
Now, all because of a seemingly harmless video on fucking Youtube, Eric would be left alone in those shadows once more. For just four years he had known Aaron Cross and been finding solace in the other man’s arms, but their stolen moments had enriched his life in such a way that Eric doesn’t know how he’ll manage without them.
He had honestly known it was a wasted effort given the CIA’s track record, but he had actually prayed he wouldn’t find anything to connect Treadstone to Outcome. Anything that would endanger his project and result in the loss of everything associated with the operation.
He had hoped for the first time in longer than he could remember and it was all ashes before him as he sees it all burning to the ground as the video ends and the page displays links to other videos with similar tags or content. Every thumbnail for another video features either Hirsch or Hillcott or both men with their arms slung around each other in an overly friendly fashion and Eric slowly pushes back from the table.
“Get me Turso and find Terrance Ward,” he speaks clearly and concisely to the gathering at the table. “Get them here. Now.”
Dita looks at him at the sharp tone and he moves briskly from the room before she can ask any questions or glean any information from his expressions.
He seeks out the nearest bathroom and locks himself inside for the moment he needs to compose himself.
Outcome is lost.
He allows the thought to play through his head and lurches for the toilet to throw up the stale vending machine sandwich he'd last eaten.