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It's been a long time.
Not that he's been entirely out of practice - every R&R he's managed to scrape away to Seoul or Tokyo, there have been men. In alleys, anonymous, grungy hotel rooms., the back rows of certain known movie houses. Hawkeye lets himself be pressed against a wall, slips a deft hand into a pair of unfamiliar trousers, lets himself be kissed into oblivion.
Some of them are gentle - almost too kind in their gratitude, their disbelief. The ones Hawkeye likes best have a spark of mischief in their eyes, like they're schoolboys in on a joke together. He tries to avoid the ones who are so choked with shame that it comes out in their bodies - raw and rank with sweat, always looking over a shoulder, sometimes so distracted by their own internal violence they can hardly stand the encounter.
If Trapper were someone Hawkeye'd met in a bar, he'd bolt before the drinks were done.
Instead, he's stroking the back of Trapper's head to keep him from looking over his shoulder and hoping that love really is enough to conquer demons.
Trapper's hips jerk, thrusting into his hand, and Trap lets out a soft, breathy grunt that Hawk will play in his head like a record until the wax wears off. His breath starts to come faster, and Hawkeye loosens his grip for just a second, pushes Trapper just a little bit, so he's not pressed so hard against the wall. Trapper opens his eyes and gives him a wild, fearful look, starts to pull away, but Hawkeye doesn't let go. He holds Trapper in steady fingers as he slowly gets down on his knees, keeping his gaze fixed on Trapper's face.
It's been a long time.
Hawkeye opens his mouth and draws Trap toward him, closes his eyes at the same time he closes his lips around him. He feels a hand in his hair, a little shove, and gags at the suddenness.
Trapper jumps back, drops into a squat, grabs Hawkeye's chin in his hand.
"Did I hurtcha?"
The concern in his voice drives away the fear, the worry. Hawkeye gives a bashful smile. "I'm out of practice," he admits. "Let me try again."
"Hawk, I don't - you don't have to - "
"Do you not want to?" Hawk asks quietly.
"Shit, Idunno." Trapper goes over to the bed and sits on its low edge, elbows on his knees. "Yes. No. I don't - "
Hawkeye gets up and goes to sit next to him, shoulder to knee. Trapper tucks himself back into his shorts, buttons his fly.
"Let's get some sleep," Hawkeye says. "It's a three day pass."
"You sure?" Trapper says, the relief palpable in his answer.
"Sure," Hawkeye says easily. "The pillow talk's the best part anyway."
They're not shy, exactly - hard to be shy around someone when you practically shower on top of each other - but Trap puts his bathrobe on over his shorts and tshirt and climbs into bed. Hawk shrugs into his robe, too.
Hawkeye starts telling a story as he climbs into bed - something about med school, a professor he had who liked to prank students by putting odd specimens on his lectern and delivering the lecture without acknowledging its existence until someone had to ask. Trapper's chuckling before he knows it, lost in Hawkeye's telling. When the story's done, they're lying facing each other, smiling. Trapper leans over and impishly kisses the tip of Hawkeye's nose. His leg comes forward as he does, brushing against Hawk's.
"Whoa, uh...got something to take care of there, Hawk?"
"Naw, I'm fine."
Trapper cocks an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
Hawkeye gives him a serious look. "Look, I'm not some kid at the prom who's going to die of misery if his date gets away," he says pointedly. "I'm a big boy. I don't need anything from you that you don't want."
Trapper reaches for him under the covers, gets a handful of robe and what's under it. "You certainly are."
"I told you, Trap, we don't have to do this tonight," Hawkeye says, still serious. "You don't owe me anything."
"True," Trapper muses. "But I wouldn't want to send you home emptyhanded."
Hawkeye furrows his brow. "You lost me."
Trapper pulls away, finds Hawkeye's right hand resting on his side, and drags his wrist to his crotch. "Go on," he says, flashing Hawk a grin he's not sure he can see in the thin beam of the Ginza street light. "We didn't go out tonight. I want to see a show worthy of the Pink Pagoda."
The way Hawkeye's face half-rolls into the pillow, eyes closed and mouth open as he starts to move his hand under the sheets is achingly familiar. Trapper's probably watched him through the tiniest peep of his eyelids dozens of times, in the middle of the night, pretending to sleep. But this is better.
Definitely better.
Trapper props himself up on an elbow and listens, seeing less and less as the lights start to dim. Hawkeye moans into the pillow, muffling the sound as his hand moves faster and faster. Trapper reaches out and works a hand into his hair, just to let him know he's still awake, still there, still watching.
"Oh, Trap," Hawkeye mutters as his breathing gets faster. "That's - just give it a good - just pull it a little - "
Trapper grins, twisting his wrist enough for Hawk to feel it.
"OH, yes," Hawkeye whispers. "Not - long - now, Trap. I'm - "
"I know," Trapper whispers back. "Don't you think I've heard you before? Don't you know I know what you sound like when you're like this? That this isn't the first time I've seen this particular show?"
Hawkeye rolls his face fully into the pillow as his body shudders and jerks under the sheets, trying to muffle what he can't hold back anymore. Trapper keeps his hand on him, softening the grip, letting his fingers go slack against Hawkeye's head.
Hawkeye trembles with the aftershocks and lifts his head. "So, you like to watch," he tries to quip, but there's too much languid joy in it to land.
"Yeah," Trap says. "S'better from the front row, though."
Hawkeye grins, rolls onto his back, wiping his hand on the sheets. "How long?"
"Have I been watching? Oh, since your first week, maybe."
"Remind me to confess how often I've returned the favor."
"Oh?"
Hawkeye waves a lazy hand. "Tomorrow the lurid details. Tonight, sleep. Unless you want something else."
Trapper leans over and kisses Hawk on the mouth, soft and long. "Tomorrow," he promises. "G'night, Hawk."