Suck My Blog has decided to go where the New York Times Book Review dares not tread: literary critiques on erotic fan fiction. For too long, this brilliant genre has gone critically unappreciated, until now. Today, we'll review a gem which chronicles the early adventures of those rebel action heroes, The A-Team. When they're not running from the Army, they're running into each others arms, and exploring their sexuality. Here's a segment from internet author emmastark's Come On Baby, Light My Fire (we cannot link to adult stories on the site, but feel free to Google it), in which young Face and Murdock finally get some alone time away from the others:
"Hannibal frowned. [Murdock and Face] were taking care of each other. Steadying
each other. That was good. And god knew, nothing about any of his guys
was army regs, himself included.
What Face and Murdock had was dangerous, though. [...]
Sometimes this war seemed to be more about uncertainty than
anything else. Pounding everything you
ever thought was sure and true into the dirt. Making you build your own kind of meaning for all of it, if you
could. If you could.
[Hannibal] walked back to the hootch with BA and Ray to try and get
a little sleep.
Face and Murdock were not thinking about
existentialism. Face and Murdock, nineteen and twenty-one respectively, were
thinking about f***ing each other’s brains out on the dirt floor of the motor
pool.
Face jumped out of the jeep as Murdock drove it inside the
small, corrugated tin building. The
building had been painted with flat black and green paint; it’s dull surface
radiated heat.
Face shouldered the door closed anyhow, pulling the chain
around and padlocking it on the inside. He tackled Murdock as he climbed out of the jeep. Murdock rolled with Face across the dusty floor, and their
mouths hunted each other hungrily.
“Shirt,” Murdock said, hands pulling at Face’s jacket
impatiently.
“Come on, baby,” Face murmured, reaching down between them
and rubbing at Murdock’s crotch, “Light my fire.”
Murdock (grinning) got to his knees..."
They're fighting with each other, side by side. Back to back. Rear ends touching, I'm sure. I pity the foolish TV producers who only showed us car explosions, and failed to find the sexual explosions that roared between the heroes. This is an engaging short fiction masterpiece. As the show itself proclaims: "if you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire... The (Gay) A-Team." A-
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