Ergo: Jaw pain. The soldier had been a boxer. Not like BJ could have known that. Whatever, no use in crying over spilt milk. Now, barely two days later, not much evidence of the incident remained. Except, of course, for the slight ache in his jaw that he still fondled every once in a while. What did it matter?
“It matters a whole lot, Beej,” Hawkeye had sighed exasperatedly for the seemingly hundredth time, “let me take a look at it!”
“Hawk” And silence.
Standoff – grey eyes on blue ones.
“It’s just an aching jaw,” BJ amended, thinking he had won and pouring himself a martini.
“Oh, of course,” retorted Hawkeye, flailing his hands and letting the bathrobe flutter with the movement, “if it’s just an aching jaw, it can’t possibly be broken or sprained... or a broken tooth. BJ –“
“Okay, enough.”
Words strong enough to silence Hawkeye. With a clank! he sat down his glass.
“Fine. Whatever. You get one exam. Your choice. But you stop bugging me about it afterwards”
Another stretch of silence, reluctance in the air, turning into acceptance. Hawkeye nodded, eyes on the floor and stretched out a hand.
“Show me your teeth. I wanna feel for a broken one” He motioned BJ to sit down.
“No,” Hawkeye said, “Astraddle. I don’t want to sprain anything looking for your sprain”
With more force than necessary, BJ lowered himself onto his cot. In turn, Hawkeye sat down in front of him. Wait, BJ thought, was he nervous I would bolt? That would be childish... But not entirely beneath him, once he thought about it.
Fingers darted out, reaching for his jaw, eyes scanning over his skin. It wasn’t discoloured, the signature red had faded long ago and it wasn’t swollen. Still, always the thorough doctor, Hawkeye seemed better safe than sorry. For a second there, Hawkeye just held his face between his palms, a grand two inches between their noses. A curious thought opened up before BJ: This feels nice. Until he lingered a bit too long on Hawk’s reasoning, why he would fondle him like that and suddenly: “I said one exam, Hawk”
Hawk’s face fell, fingers retreating, which the same curious thought commented on with a strict: No, don’t!
“Okay,” Hawk said, admitting defeat. His gaze turned to the cot, then a quick replacement of expression: Cheekiness – the same smile he had given BJ on his first day in Kimpo. “Okay then. Open your mouth and say ‘ah’!”
“B,” said BJ, returning the imprudence.
“Beej, I’m serious,” fondness bleeding into annoyance in his voice.
“Serious as a broken bone... or tooth”
“Come on, this isn’t a joke!”
“No, sorry,” which was true: BJ was genuinely sorry. For the whole stupid ordeal: Punching a patient and worrying Hawkeye.
Hawkeye, his bunkie, who BJ belatedly realised sat chest to chest to him: Knees to knees, ankles interwoven. Eyes fixed on BJ’s jaw, mouth, teeth and neck. BJ opened his mouth, which Hawkeye took as an invitation and laid his right index finger on his tongue, left hand caressing BJ’s sore jaw. Neither of them moved – BJ couldn’t.
It should have felt weird, but it didn’t. BJ ogled Hawk’s fingers all the time – his deft skill in surgery, his grand movements underlining his words, slender digits with raised knuckles. Come to think of it – it was a shame that they were obscured by gloves so often. BJ would like to look at them a little more... tasting them needed to suffice for now. Maybe BJ could feel their looks with his tongue: all the wrinkles of skin and veins. Hawkeye’s index finger moved up to BJ’s top left molars.
“BJ, stop being a tease and keep your tongue to yourself,” Hawk mumbled, brow furrowed and concentrating hard on BJ’s dentals.
“Thorry,” he said and repeated clearly once Hawk pulled out his fingers with an audible smack. “Sorry – it’s just a foreign object. I’ll try”
“Well, try harder,” Hawk said, placing his fingers again, “try imagining it’s... uhm... well this analogy doesn’t work with a married man”
“Groth, Hawk!”
“Don’t talk, I can’t feel anything”
BJ sighed. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the most intimate he’s been with anyone since leaving Mill Valley for Korea. And yet, it felt so normal. In tune as always, he thought while Hawk was faintly stroking his jaw, his other hand moving down to his lower left molars and BJ’s tongue darting back and forth. Hawkeye added a second finger, their weight now measurable in his mouth, working his teeth with two tips. It felt new and exciting and yeah, intimate, BJ couldn’t stop the moan that was clawing itself out of his throat.
Hawk didn’t still, but his face softened.
“Oh Beej,” a short pause, “I’m so sorry, I’ll be fast – you’re doing do well”
BJ closed his eyes, rocking forward a bit.
“Try to hold still,” breathed Hawk. BJ’s mind drifted a bit: Did it really hurt that much? No... what he was feeling wasn’t pain. Quite the opposite, actually, he was feeling – he was... feeling Hawk’s robe under his fingertips. When did he place his hands on Hawkeye’s hips?
“Well done, BJ, let me just feel the bone quickly,” he said and filled his mouth completely with a third heavy finger that BJ could not help but suck on.
Little wet noises emerging from the shared space – Hawk’s rough fingerprints on his tongue.
Foreign object: This was a normal reaction. The act felt sexual, all of a sudden. Hawkeye’s fingers strangely grave with a new weight and BJ’s hesitant sucking motions more important than they were before.
He felt hot. He was drooling definitely, Hawk’s fingers were covered in spit and BJ was sure some of it had landed on his Henley. He was sweating as well, it felt like he had been dropped off in the tropics, yet, he wanted nothing more than to bring Hawk closer (a thought he otherwise never displayed when stuck in a heatwave). He was rocking into Hawkeye’s knees, fingers clawing into his robe, squirming and moaning.
Moaning around Hawk’s fingers, tongue darting over them as Hawk examined his mouth. God – Hawkeye – right now all Doctor Pierce, focused, concentrating, a little crease between his brows – teeth scraping over tongue, absolutely oblivious as to how turned on BJ was.
What? Who said that?
Before he had a chance to dwell on that, Hawkeye finally pulled all his three fingers out with an obscenely wet sound, dribbling spit on BJ’s chin that he gently wiped away with his robe.
“Well done, Beej, You did so good, all finished”
A hesitant smile on his lips, Hawk’s soft eyes met BJ’s feverishly strained ones. He was still caressing his jaw, a featherlight touch that demanded all of his focus. BJ inclined his head a bit to lean into it.
“That feel good?” He had to pull himself together, badly, to not moan a response. Instead, BJ swallowed hard, cleared his throat, then breathed a rough: “Yeah.”
Silence. Heavy, heavy silence, until Hawk pulled away his hand.
“Alright. I’ll get you an aspirin. Stay put, lay down, if you want to”
The Swamp door clattered shut.
Holy shit. BJ laid down on the cot, feet still dangling to the sides. What the fuck.
That was... BJ had trouble describing the experience. The closest he came to comparing it was when he, well... he felt silly addressing it like that. The closest he came to was when he once, as he was having sex with Peggy, started kissing her clit and labia, which made her orgasm so hard, they had to lay down for a while. She in his arms. Satisfied beyond articulation. BJ stroking her cheek not unlike Hawk just had.
BJ dropped his hand over his eyes. Everything had to go quiet for a while. He had to calm down before Hawk came back. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t write to Peg. What would he say?
“My love,
today they served liver again. For the main course, Hawkeye had a grope at my mouth until I started moaning. Remember when I ate you out and you nearly started crying in euphoria? I imagine this is what it felt like.”
He couldn’t shower – not yet – not until Hawkeye gave him that aspirin. Trapped; trapped was what he was – trapped here in limbo between released and pent up and, now that he thought about it, incredibly aroused.
“Okay,” said BJ to himself, “that does not need to mean anything”
“What doesn’t have to mean anything?” asked Hawkeye, standing in the doorway.
“The pain in the jaw,” BJ sat up abruptly, “Remember what this all was about?”
“Oh certainly, Doctor Hunnicutt,” then, softer: “Here. Your aspirin”
Their hands brushed as Hawk gave BJ the medicine together with a cup of water.
BJ silently accepted it with a nod and tipped his head back to swallow, when Hawk’s hand found its place again on BJ’s jaw, feeling for something.
There it was again, he thought, That pooling heat in BJ’s stomach.
“Looks hurt still,” said Hawkeye, bursting BJ’s bubble. He scoffed.
“Yeah. Guess that’s what I get for starting fights with a boxer...”
“What an astute observation, Doctor Hunnicutt! Besides, I still need to dress you down for that”
Yeah, right. The heat disappeared suddenly. Well done, BJ, he said to himself and groaned again.