Title: "Acceptance" Pairing: Matt Eversmann/Norm 'Hoot' Gibson Rating: R Disclaimer: Not my playground. All rights belong to Mark Bowden, Scott Free Productions & Columbia Pictures, not me. Summary: Tonight, Matt would allow Hoot anything. Takes place directly after Aftermath. Notes: Written for the Comment_Fic Free For All post - my prompts were 'after' & Hoot/Eversmann. Monday, October 4th, 1993 Matt wasn't sure what he was expecting with his tacit permission - a fast blowjob, maybe, or mutual handjob, something dirty and quick, something that could be easily dismissed in the daylight - so when Hoot simply knelt there, breathing deep, breathing Matt, not moving, hands on his hips like a tattoo etching under his skin, Matt wasn't sure what to do. His own hands fluttered helplessly at Hoot's neck, then head, finally resting across the soft bristles of Hoot's hair. It was too long for regulation, but Hoot wasn't much for rules. "Relax," Hoot murmured, just as his tongue flickered out, tasted the crease of Matt's inner thigh. "I ain't gonna hurt you." Matt jerked in reflex, then in pleasure, when Hoot did it again, this time a slow, deliberate, wet stripe. "I know," he breathed, not knowing or caring what Hoot was saying. He'd made his commitment. He'd see this through. "No, you don't," Hoot easily countered, and slid slowly back up Matt's body, rough lips and soft tongue mapping a sure path along Matt's stomach and chest and shoulders. Matt made a small sound that felt like relief, sounded like a whimper, and stopped trying to think of anything that wasn't this. Hoot would take care of him. When warm lips met his, Matt opened his own eagerly, felt the rough burn of Hoot's stubble scraping over his skin, felt the weighted heat of Hoot pressing him into the lockers. Cool metal dug into his back, Hoot's hot breath mingled with his, the kiss slow, deliberate, giving no quarter, taking none, conquered every one of Matt's defenses with effortless skill. His moan was desperation, surrender, as he fisted his hands over Hoot's shoulders – strong enough to take on the world, to take on even Matt's guilt with ease – and shifted closer, into the heat, into the kiss, into everything Hoot was offering. He wasn't strong enough to say no. "Shhhh," Hoot soothed, lips a wet smear across Matt's eyelids. "It's alright." His hands were firm and gentle across Matt's back. Matt could only hiccup a nod of assent, and pressed closer, nudged at Hoot until their mouths met again. He could feel how hard Hoot was, how hard they both were, and hoped, with all of the coherence left to him, that he could give Hoot something. That he could give Hoot the same solace and pleasure. In Hoot's kiss, he could taste the faint remnants of gunpowder, but under it was something sharper, cleaner, alive. He sought that taste with his tongue, swallowed each low groan, and allowed Hoot to pull him gracelessly to the floor when his legs refused to support him. Tonight, he would allow Hoot anything at all. Onto Forgiveness If you enjoyed this fic, please leave feedback here. Thanks!