ss9!newgan
12 Jan 2017 12:40![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluebaron Robert Hogan woke up feeling squished. As he slowly became more aware of his surroundings, it became apparent that there was a very good reason for this. He poked the reason in the ribs. “Newkirk.”
“Mmph,” said Newkirk.
“Newkirk,” Hogan repeated, poking him again.
This time, Newkirk shifted enough so that Hogan could slip out from under him without waking him.
He got up, stretched a little, then went into the adjacent bathroom. One of the nicer things about Deep Space Nine was that they got private quarters with ensuites. This was great, for a number of reasons, one of which being that it only made it easier to hide the fact that Newkirk hadn’t slept in his assigned quarters since they’d arrived two weeks ago.
His men were wonderful. Kinch and LeBeau had known about Newkirk's preferences before Hogan had arrived, and fully supported him. They even joked about it sometimes. Kinch liked to tell a story about Hogan's arrival. Apparently, Kinch had asked LeBeau and Newkirk what they thought of their new CO. LeBeau's response had been "not much", but Newkirk had ended the discussion by saying "Well, he's extremely attractive, and I would definitely not mind having some very hot sex with him." It had taken Internment Camp 13 for Hogan to realize it, but Newkirk had finally gotten what he’d wanted.
Hogan washed his hands and exited back into the bedroom. At the doorway, he paused a moment. The starlight entering through the window lit up the room beautifully, a ray of light illuminating Newkirk’s sleeping form. The Englishman lay on his stomach, the bedsheet pushed down to his waist, head turned to the side facing Hogan. His blue-green eyes were closed, brown hair falling a little over his features, lips parted ever so slightly. Asleep, he looked so peaceful, so calm and innocent. There was nothing of the cynic in his face now, no deception, no sardonicism. Hogan’s eyes traced the line of his lover’s spine down to where it disappeared under the sheet. Newkirk was still painfully thin, ribs clearly visible, as a result of the prison camp diet he’d been living off of for three years. LeBeau’s cooking could only do so much, and there often wasn’t enough to go around. After their first intimate encounter at Internment Camp 13, Hogan had noticed that despite LeBeau’s complaints that Newkirk always took food while he was cooking, Newkirk often gave most of his portion to Carter when the young sergeant wasn’t paying attention. Hogan smiled softly,a surge of affection rising in him. Then, as he still stood there, savoring the moment, Newkirk stirred.
“Somethin’ wrong, gov’?” he asked sleepily.
“No, Peter. Nothing. I’m just admiring how good you look asleep in my bed,” Hogan replied.
Newkirk grinned. “Gonna join me then, sir?”
“Certainly,” Hogan said, with a grin of his own. He slipped into bed beside Newkirk, sliding an arm around the Englishman’s waist. Newkirk shifted a little closer, resting his head against Hogan’s collarbone. The colonel brought one hand up and started running his fingers through Newkirk’s hair. “You need a haircut, Peter,” he said meditatively.
“An’ you need a shave,” Newkirk countered, tilting his head back to see his commanding officer’s face, tracing the line of Hogan’s jaw with his thumb.
“Actually, I was thinking of keeping it,” Hogan said, idly twirling a strand of his lover’s dark hair between his fingers.
Newkirk paused, considering. “Nah,” he said finally. “You’re more fun to kiss clean-shaven. ‘Sides, it doesn’t suit.”
“I’m more fun to kiss? That’s why you don’t think I should keep the beard?” Hogan asked, sounding more offended than he actually was. “Isn’t that a bit self-centered?”
“I’m just lookin’ out for meself,” Newkirk said. “If I don’t, who will?”
Hogan pulled him closer and continued to stroke his hair. “We will, Peter. Me, Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau. We’re always looking out for you.”
The Englishman smiled. “I know you are, sir. It’s just- well, it take some getting used to, ‘avin’ mates who’ll watch your back.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against Hogan.
They stayed that way for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, Hogan still absentmindedly petting Newkirk’s hair. Then, just when the colonel thought the corporal had gone back to sleep, Newkirk snuggled closer and said four words that he’d never said before, four words that Hogan had never dreamed he’d hear out of the Englishman’s mouth, four words that tugged at his heartstrings. “I love you, Rob,” Newkirk said drowsily, breath soft against Hogan’s bare skin.
The colonel’s breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard, drawing Newkirk even tighter against him. When he felt he could trust his voice again, he spoke. “I love you too, Peter,” he said thickly.
“Are you cryin’, sir?” Newkirk asked incredulously, twisting to see Hogan’s face.
“No, of course not,” Hogan said defensively. Newkirk settled back to his earlier position. “Okay, maybe a little,” the colonel admitted.
“Why?” Newkirk asked.
“I just wasn’t expecting to ever hear you say that,” Hogan responded. “You’ve never said anything like that before.” The darkness of this unfamiliar place had given them both the courage to finally face the true depth of their feelings for each other.
“Hm. Well, you learn something new every day, don’t you, sir?” Newkirk asked flippantly.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Hogan said.
He felt, more than saw, Newkirk’s smile. “‘M glad we’re here,” he said quietly. "'S'nice, to be able to just stay like this with you."
"I like it too, Peter," Hogan murmured. "Can I hear it again?"
"Only if you say it too," Newkirk said, one corner of his mouth turning up.
"Sure thing," Hogan replied. "You first."
"I love you, Rob," Newkirk whispered.
Hogan savored the sound of the words. "One more time?" he asked.
"Hmmmm....." Newkirk hummed against Hogan's chest, sending pleasant vibrations through the colonel's
ribcage. "I love you, Rob."
"I love you too, Peter. I really do," Hogan said.
"Good," the Englishman said with satisfaction.
They kissed once, softly, gently, and then relaxed, each man enjoying this quiet moment spent with his lover, and went to sleep.
“Mmph,” said Newkirk.
“Newkirk,” Hogan repeated, poking him again.
This time, Newkirk shifted enough so that Hogan could slip out from under him without waking him.
He got up, stretched a little, then went into the adjacent bathroom. One of the nicer things about Deep Space Nine was that they got private quarters with ensuites. This was great, for a number of reasons, one of which being that it only made it easier to hide the fact that Newkirk hadn’t slept in his assigned quarters since they’d arrived two weeks ago.
His men were wonderful. Kinch and LeBeau had known about Newkirk's preferences before Hogan had arrived, and fully supported him. They even joked about it sometimes. Kinch liked to tell a story about Hogan's arrival. Apparently, Kinch had asked LeBeau and Newkirk what they thought of their new CO. LeBeau's response had been "not much", but Newkirk had ended the discussion by saying "Well, he's extremely attractive, and I would definitely not mind having some very hot sex with him." It had taken Internment Camp 13 for Hogan to realize it, but Newkirk had finally gotten what he’d wanted.
Hogan washed his hands and exited back into the bedroom. At the doorway, he paused a moment. The starlight entering through the window lit up the room beautifully, a ray of light illuminating Newkirk’s sleeping form. The Englishman lay on his stomach, the bedsheet pushed down to his waist, head turned to the side facing Hogan. His blue-green eyes were closed, brown hair falling a little over his features, lips parted ever so slightly. Asleep, he looked so peaceful, so calm and innocent. There was nothing of the cynic in his face now, no deception, no sardonicism. Hogan’s eyes traced the line of his lover’s spine down to where it disappeared under the sheet. Newkirk was still painfully thin, ribs clearly visible, as a result of the prison camp diet he’d been living off of for three years. LeBeau’s cooking could only do so much, and there often wasn’t enough to go around. After their first intimate encounter at Internment Camp 13, Hogan had noticed that despite LeBeau’s complaints that Newkirk always took food while he was cooking, Newkirk often gave most of his portion to Carter when the young sergeant wasn’t paying attention. Hogan smiled softly,a surge of affection rising in him. Then, as he still stood there, savoring the moment, Newkirk stirred.
“Somethin’ wrong, gov’?” he asked sleepily.
“No, Peter. Nothing. I’m just admiring how good you look asleep in my bed,” Hogan replied.
Newkirk grinned. “Gonna join me then, sir?”
“Certainly,” Hogan said, with a grin of his own. He slipped into bed beside Newkirk, sliding an arm around the Englishman’s waist. Newkirk shifted a little closer, resting his head against Hogan’s collarbone. The colonel brought one hand up and started running his fingers through Newkirk’s hair. “You need a haircut, Peter,” he said meditatively.
“An’ you need a shave,” Newkirk countered, tilting his head back to see his commanding officer’s face, tracing the line of Hogan’s jaw with his thumb.
“Actually, I was thinking of keeping it,” Hogan said, idly twirling a strand of his lover’s dark hair between his fingers.
Newkirk paused, considering. “Nah,” he said finally. “You’re more fun to kiss clean-shaven. ‘Sides, it doesn’t suit.”
“I’m more fun to kiss? That’s why you don’t think I should keep the beard?” Hogan asked, sounding more offended than he actually was. “Isn’t that a bit self-centered?”
“I’m just lookin’ out for meself,” Newkirk said. “If I don’t, who will?”
Hogan pulled him closer and continued to stroke his hair. “We will, Peter. Me, Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau. We’re always looking out for you.”
The Englishman smiled. “I know you are, sir. It’s just- well, it take some getting used to, ‘avin’ mates who’ll watch your back.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against Hogan.
They stayed that way for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, Hogan still absentmindedly petting Newkirk’s hair. Then, just when the colonel thought the corporal had gone back to sleep, Newkirk snuggled closer and said four words that he’d never said before, four words that Hogan had never dreamed he’d hear out of the Englishman’s mouth, four words that tugged at his heartstrings. “I love you, Rob,” Newkirk said drowsily, breath soft against Hogan’s bare skin.
The colonel’s breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard, drawing Newkirk even tighter against him. When he felt he could trust his voice again, he spoke. “I love you too, Peter,” he said thickly.
“Are you cryin’, sir?” Newkirk asked incredulously, twisting to see Hogan’s face.
“No, of course not,” Hogan said defensively. Newkirk settled back to his earlier position. “Okay, maybe a little,” the colonel admitted.
“Why?” Newkirk asked.
“I just wasn’t expecting to ever hear you say that,” Hogan responded. “You’ve never said anything like that before.” The darkness of this unfamiliar place had given them both the courage to finally face the true depth of their feelings for each other.
“Hm. Well, you learn something new every day, don’t you, sir?” Newkirk asked flippantly.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Hogan said.
He felt, more than saw, Newkirk’s smile. “‘M glad we’re here,” he said quietly. "'S'nice, to be able to just stay like this with you."
"I like it too, Peter," Hogan murmured. "Can I hear it again?"
"Only if you say it too," Newkirk said, one corner of his mouth turning up.
"Sure thing," Hogan replied. "You first."
"I love you, Rob," Newkirk whispered.
Hogan savored the sound of the words. "One more time?" he asked.
"Hmmmm....." Newkirk hummed against Hogan's chest, sending pleasant vibrations through the colonel's
ribcage. "I love you, Rob."
"I love you too, Peter. I really do," Hogan said.
"Good," the Englishman said with satisfaction.
They kissed once, softly, gently, and then relaxed, each man enjoying this quiet moment spent with his lover, and went to sleep.
