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blue_bells» Title: The Side-Project
» Fandom: X-Men: First Class
» Warnings: Bondage, furry
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Alex/Hank, Charles
» Summary: Hank is afraid of hurting Alex after his transformation and he'll only let their intimacy go so far. Alex is getting impatient.
» A/N: Originally written here for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
xmen_firstkink because I have been finishing my Big Bang over the last few days, the muse compelled me for a change and I couldn't stop when I saw this prompt over breakfast.
Hank shivers into their kiss when Alex runs his tongue over the sharpened points of Hank’s teeth and he loves Hank’s growling purr that vibrates into him when he does it again, tongue trailing the roof of his mouth.
He feels the barest knick of Hank’s sheathed claws through his shirt when Hank pulls him closer on the bed, hands stroking and palming the long muscles of his back, and Alex pulls away to tug the shirt over his head.
Hank is breathing hard, beautiful gold eyes gone dark, roving over the bare skin Alex wants him to touch, but when Alex reaches for him again, moving in for another kiss, Hank shrinks back and gently turns his head away.
With his fingers curled in the fur at Hank’s neck, Alex barely manages to stop himself from tugging in frustration. He rolls his jaw and glares at the windows instead, blowing a short breath between his lips.
“Again, Hank?”
Hank studies the carpet, the scattered line of laundry on Alex’s bedroom floor, but they’ve gotten here so many times in the last month, Alex wonders why he still hopes for a different result.
He’s lucky Hank still lets him touch him. Ever since Hank’s transformation, his withdrawal and heightened self-consciousness has only made Alex want to touch him more. But after he nearly crushed Alex against the concrete bunker wall, rutting against him, Hank has refused to do more than kiss or hold Alex. He didn’t respond so well to Alex’s attempts to convince Hank it was the most blissed out near death experience of his life and they had to do it again. Alex understands: sitting vigil by your boyfriend’s bedside in the infirmary for two days while your shared best friend teased you relentlessly could do that to you (damn you, Sean).
But it’s been a month, they’ve never gone far with Hank’s new form, and Alex just really, really wants him.
Hank speaks slowly, halting.
“Alex, I’m – I’m not going to… it’s not worth it—“
Anger curls through Alex hot and offended, though it clenches like hurt in his chest.
“It’s not worth it?”
Hank finally meets his eye and the arousal is still there, but his disappointment is heavier and Alex knows he won’t be able to push Hank tonight.
“That’s not what I meant— I mean—“
“You think you’re the only one that has to worry about control? Fuck you.”
Hank’s face twists like he’s been stung, Alex grabs his shirt and tugs it back on, sitting on the bed’s edge. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he glares at the far wall away from Hank and Hank hovers as long as it takes for him to get the message, slowly rising and letting himself out without a word.
Alex shuts his eyes as soon as he hears the door click shut and he stamps his foot, cursing under his breath.
-*-
Alex only cares as much about the science of their mutations as it takes for him to keep up with the vague line of a conversation between Hank and Charles (or ‘the Professor’, as Alex and Sean were calling him now), because when Hank ends up in his room babbling excitedly about the latest breakthrough, Alex usually just smirks in bemusement.
He decided to sit up and pay attention when he realized how hot it got Hank that Alex was listening and understood, mouthing his questions or interest into Hank’s skin as he kissed down his neck, his smooth chest, the hard muscles of his stomach that explained how he did those back flips onto ceiling fans so easily, and then Hank would groan that much louder when Alex finally swallowed him down.
Making Hank come apart under him was one of Alex’s favorite things, so he was pretty pissed one of his best hobbies had been taken away from him.
Alex cares about the science, the tech and the gadgets even less now that Hank shuts him down every time things start getting good, so he doesn’t find out about the chair until a week after it’s been installed in one of the underground bunkers.
It’s a sign of the changing times that the Professor wants them to be prepared for whatever might come through their front door and the secure lock-up facility underground is almost finished before Alex even learns about it. He’s been responsible for recruitment and the number of fellow mutants walking the halls has grown to twelve, but it’s different from their first family that came here together and Alex thinks the lock-up is as much for any of their surprises as it is for unwelcome guests.
He hears the animal roar of fury walking back from his own training bunker and his blood goes cold.
Hank.
The hallway of bunkers is long, but when he gets to the right one, skidding to a halt as his hand catches the door jam, he finds the Professor wheeling around a tall throne of what looks like metal and stone confused material. Hank is shackled into it and Alex jumps again when he snarls, sharp and dangerous, body tensed as he tries to tear free from his restraints.
The Professor is thoughtfully watching a series of monitors on the back wall and he looks back at Hank as though the other scientist has just offered him a cup of tea.
“Well, I can’t see any signs of stress, Hank, but I doubt you’ll be the biggest or angriest thing that we’ll ever see,” the Professor says conversationally.
“What the hell is going on?” Alex asks and Hank’s head snaps up in surprise, his fight against the chair evaporating as though Alex had caught him doing something guilty.
The chair is the only thing in the room and Alex recognises solitary confinement.
“I – uh – this… uh.” Hank glances at the Professor for help. “This might look weird.”
“I think your test is complete.” The Professor points a tiny remote at the chair and the solid, shining metal binding Hank around the waist, ankles, and wrists slide back into the chair with a hiss of ease. “We’ll need to find another subject, but lacking that, another method if you want to raise the thresholds. That will do, Hank.”
The Professor hands Hank back the remote and pushes himself in his wheelchair towards the entrance, smiling up at his other ward kindly as he passes.
“Hello, Alex.”
“Uh – see you, Professor.”
“Please, Alex; Charles. I don’t like feeling gray before my time,” the Professor says as he wheels out the door.
“Sure thing, Professor,” Alex calls over his shoulder, but he’s still staring at Hank in that chair with his hands pulled to his lap.
Hank’s shoulders are hunched like he’s about to be reprimanded and it’s such a funny look for his intimidating size. Hank himself hadn’t grown much bigger when he changed, but he had filled out with more muscle and bulk than Alex would ever have unless he seriously committed to weight training. And Alex was… oddly okay with the surprise switch between the two of them.
“Nice chair,” Alex says and he smirks when Hank squirms in his seat.
Alex does miss being able to see the flush in his cheeks, but instead of the blush, he’s learned Hank’s skin now tenses, betraying his feeling with a ripple in his fur. It’s even easier to read him now.
“What do you want, Alex?”
“I like your taste.” Alex ignores the question, rounding Hank to inspect the chair from the back, kicking its legs bolted into the ground. It doesn’t budge or even make a sound and Alex favors his foot with a silent-mouthed ‘O’ of pain when the vibration feeds back into him. When he gets his face back under control, he walks around to the front. “Is it your design?”
“Yeah.” Hank eyes him warily with a suspicious frown. “So?”
Alex smirks, cocking his head to the side.
“You made a sex chair.”
He has never seen Hank’s eyes go so round.
“What?”
“It’s kinky.”
“I didn’t – no, I – !” Hank disavows and he bolts upright from his seat, flustered, but Alex steps in his way, putting a hand on Hank’s stomach, when Hank tries to storm past him.
“Hank, Hank, Hank,” Alex calms him, pulling him in with hands on his waist until Hank reluctantly looks him in the eye. Alex straightens Hank’s glasses on his nose. “Look, it’s been five days.”
“You were counting?” Hank doesn’t sound like he believes it.
Alex feels his smirk soften watching Hank’s eyes light up with cautious hope.
“About the other day—“
“I’m sorry,” Hank bursts in and Alex stares at him.
“Dude, that was my line.”
Hank’s mouth twists and he reaches for Alex, their hips brushing when Alex steps in, more than happy at the large, warm hands that close around his waist. He’s missed Hank touching him.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, because I do….” Hank looks down between them and he sighs, he has to try more than once before he can get the words out and Alex waits, stroking over the arms of his lab coat. “I do and it’s really hard not to…. I just – I just don’t want to hurt you again.”
“Hey.” Alex nudges his hips against Hank’s and the other man looks him in the eye. “If I can do this without burning the mansion down, you’ll get there, too.”
Hank sighs.
“Alex, it’s not the same.”
“Then what about that chair?”
Hank stiffens and he looks back at his latest invention doubtfully.
“You were serious about that?”
“I’m serious about how much I want you in that chair right now.”
“… Oh.”
-*-
It’s short work getting out of their clothes once the bunker door is bolted behind them and Hank lifts Alex by his hips, wrapping his legs around him, walking back until they fall into the chair and Alex hopes he never loses the thrill of how strong Hank is now.
“Do you want me to--?” Hank stops when his arms are pushed into the restraints splayed away from the main back and the shackles snap into place.
Alex feels him tense in surprise, the muscles of Hank’s arms flexing under his hands. He drags fingers down through the thick fur and then up towards Hank’s shoulders, leaning up to kiss and muffle the small groan of pleasure when Alex rocks against his bare stomach, already half-hard.
“No,” Alex says, because if he takes away every means for Hank to hurt him, then he can’t complain, and he feels hot and impatient and this may just be the best idea he’s ever had. “Do you trust me?”
Hank nods, eager and hungry and Alex is so, so glad he’s not the only one. He pulls Hank’s glasses free and they fall somewhere on his lab coat by the chair’s legs.
He presses Hank back into that chair with weight on his thighs and hands on his shoulders, their kisses turning wet and messy, and Hank honest to God hisses when Alex hits one of the buttons on the remote and the band of reinforced steel closes low around his stomach, forcing him back and still. He can’t rise up to meet Alex like this and Alex can’t help the smirk that pulls at his mouth again because Hank may be snarling and hissing that he’s given Alex this advantage, but it’s awesome and it does things to him.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t think of us when you designed this,” Alex challenges, kissing Hank open-mouthed and hungry before he can reply, rising up on his knees on the seat that was wide enough for him and Hank.
He shudders at the growl that resonates through him where Hank tangles their tongues.
“I’m not the biggest thing out there,” Hank says when he gets air.
“You’re big enough,” Alex tries, and fails, not to laugh because Hank walked right into that one.
“Is that your idea of dirty talk?” Hank’s droll expression lasts for as long as it takes for Alex to wrap his spit-slicked palm around Hank and pull him in long, slow strokes.
Eyes shut, head fallen back against the chair’s back, Hank misses the sight of Alex sucking on his own fingers. When Hank hears the first tell of Alex’s muted groan, Alex is already pushing his fingers into himself, knees splayed as wide as they’ll go over Hank’s thighs and he’s shuddering, mouth fallen open as he thrusts into himself, trying not to tense, unfocused gaze somewhere on Hank’s chest, and his grip falters on Hank’s cock as he finds his prostate, hips bucking before he pushes his fingers in deeper, harder with a groan that sounds almost painful.
Hank’s mouth is watering when Alex’s eyes finally meet his, almost lost to his own lust, Hank strains against the metal on his arms, the cold band bites into his skin when he involuntarily surges forward, and Alex’s mouth cracks in that low, familiar smirk.
“I wish it was your fingers in me,” Alex groans, eyes falling to Hank’s mouth and his eyes slip shut for a moment again when he rocks back down onto his fingers, “You’re so much bigger, you’d stretch me wide, and your fingertips… pads are like leather. I bet it would feel amazing if they could find me here and fuck me over and over.”
“… Alex,” Hank murmurs, stunned, and Alex whimpers, his stomach clenching as his fingers mimic his fantasy. Hank shivers, everything in him screaming to drag Alex closer, he can’t stop twitching and tensing against the restraints, and he never thought he’d be so furious with himself for building something so well. He feels like he’s on fire, he knows he’s shaking and he wants Alex so much it physically hurts.
Alex may not even have to touch him in the end if he kept this up, but suddenly he’s pulled his fingers out and dragged himself closer, knees flush to the chair’s back as he braces himself over Hank, reaching down briefly to grab the condom from his clothes, and Hank should really not be surprised that Alex walks around with these things in his pants.
“Alex… Alex, was that enough?” Hank barely recognizes his own voice, hoarse and desperate, though in spite of how much he wants this, he doesn’t think Alex took enough time, he can’t be ready, but Alex has already torn the packet with his teeth and he’s sliding the lubricated glove onto him.
Alex drinks down Hank’s groan, pumping him with his hand and Hank kisses back greedily, soaking in the smell of Alex’s sweat and dizzying arousal, all for him, and he tries once more to break his bonds before he realizes he’s doing it.
“Fuck,” Alex gasps at the snarl Hank bleeds against his lips, he looks into Hank’s face with such open want and confusing reverence, it makes the hunger in his gut lash dangerously. He leans in shaking his head with a smile and brushes Hank’s mouth with kisses between his words. “Fuck… you’re amazing, you stupid Bozo. Why do you do this to me?”
“’S not my fault,” Hank replies, distracted, because Alex is sinking down onto him and Hank wants to remember that taut expression of concentration, the slow, constricting heat that’s still too tight, and Alex hovers, chest heaving with a deep breath, then another, and then he pushes himself down the rest of the way, knocking the air from Hank’s chest.
Alex rests against him for a moment, shivering against his chest and the cool metal of the waist band, as he tries to catch his breath.
“Everything is your fault… ‘cept when it’s mine,” Alex mutters and tilts his head back with a smile.
Their next kiss is tender, easy, and familiar, then Alex inhales sharply against his lips, reaching over Hank’s head to grip the chair’s frame. He rises up on his knees halfway and rocks back down, trembling as he adjusts, and Hank braces himself against the chair, bonds holding him tight when he instinctively thrusts up.
Alex smirks down at him, seeing the shock in his face because he forgot for a moment, and he doesn’t give Hank time to recover, muscles tensing in his arms as he rolls his hips in Hank’s lap, streaking precome across the metal over his stomach. Alex shivers, teeth clenched around a cry, he does it again. Hank shuts his eyes at the impossible clench around him as Alex gets his bearings and starts rocking himself up and down onto Hank’s cock again and again, first deeper, then faster, until he’s shaking and panting and riding Hank hard into the chair.
It’s stone and metal but being trapped between the contrast of cold and hard beneath and behind him with Alex, hot, trembling and alive is almost blinding. Alex slams himself down, and Hank groans low in his throat, the sound ending dangerously close to a whine as Alex mouths the skin of his neck with wet kisses, tilting his head back.
“Alex,” Hank begs, breathless and desperate, and he thinks he hears the metal of his restraints complain when he pulls against them, aching to touch.
“Come on, Hank, come on… come on.” Alex’s breath puffs hot against his ear and his skin is flushed with sweat, eyes dark, and his smile is shaky when he pulls himself up again with arms bracketed around Hank’s head, before sinking back down. “I’ll go slow for you, baby, it’s just you and me. It’s you and me and I want you to get there, come on, come on….”
Hank isn’t sure if Alex means to hit the button, but suddenly Hank can breathe a little better, metal snicks home and he realizes the band around his waist has retracted. Alex realizes a moment after he does and they almost stop, staring at each other as though wondering what does this….?
But then Alex’s smile turns wicked and the next time he shoves down, Hank drives up into him, and Alex cries out with the force of it.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, God,” Alex pants, his expression confused, and Hank's heart almost beats out of his chest.
“Alex--?”
Alex cuts him off with a deep kiss, harsh and consuming.
“Do it again.”
So, Hank does. He uses the leverage from his still trapped arms and Alex pushes back just as hard, Hank really worries they’ll split him apart, but he’s too far gone to stop himself, and it’s completely addictive watching Alex unravel above him making all sorts of noises he’ll later disavow. He watches for as long as he can and he feels Alex’s fingers on his lips when his hips stutter through the short, brutal rhythm. He cries out when his release crashes against him, sudden and violent, Alex braces himself with hands on the chair’s frame and clamps down, riding the force of it. He comes a few moments later and moans helplessly into Hank’s neck, streaking white as he thrusts against Hank’s stomach, his hands fisted in the fur over his biceps.
For a long few moments, their harsh breaths ring in the quiet of the bunker with Alex completely melted against him, and then the final hiss of metal pulls back and Hank groans with relief, finally, wrapping his arms around Alex. His hold only tightens when Alex whimpers, a hoarse, exhausted note in his throat and shifts deeper into his embrace.
“Think the Professor will still want to use this chair?” Hank wonders aloud, finding his voice wrecked, and Alex groans against his shoulder.
“Don’t talk about the Professor when we’re naked.”
“Sorry, I just—“
Alex raises his head and kisses Hank, just a simple press of mouths, but still so final. “Just you and me, Hank.”
Hank nods as Alex searches his face and he feels himself smile, warmed by the tired fondness in Alex’s expression.
“Mind giving me a minute for the feeling to come back in my legs?” Alex mumbles, resting his forehead back on Hank’s shoulder.
“I’ll give you two,” Hank says and Alex chuckles against his neck.
» Fandom: X-Men: First Class
» Warnings: Bondage, furry
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Alex/Hank, Charles
» Summary: Hank is afraid of hurting Alex after his transformation and he'll only let their intimacy go so far. Alex is getting impatient.
» A/N: Originally written here for
xmen_firstkink because I have been finishing my Big Bang over the last few days, the muse compelled me for a change and I couldn't stop when I saw this prompt over breakfast. Hank shivers into their kiss when Alex runs his tongue over the sharpened points of Hank’s teeth and he loves Hank’s growling purr that vibrates into him when he does it again, tongue trailing the roof of his mouth.
He feels the barest knick of Hank’s sheathed claws through his shirt when Hank pulls him closer on the bed, hands stroking and palming the long muscles of his back, and Alex pulls away to tug the shirt over his head.
Hank is breathing hard, beautiful gold eyes gone dark, roving over the bare skin Alex wants him to touch, but when Alex reaches for him again, moving in for another kiss, Hank shrinks back and gently turns his head away.
With his fingers curled in the fur at Hank’s neck, Alex barely manages to stop himself from tugging in frustration. He rolls his jaw and glares at the windows instead, blowing a short breath between his lips.
“Again, Hank?”
Hank studies the carpet, the scattered line of laundry on Alex’s bedroom floor, but they’ve gotten here so many times in the last month, Alex wonders why he still hopes for a different result.
He’s lucky Hank still lets him touch him. Ever since Hank’s transformation, his withdrawal and heightened self-consciousness has only made Alex want to touch him more. But after he nearly crushed Alex against the concrete bunker wall, rutting against him, Hank has refused to do more than kiss or hold Alex. He didn’t respond so well to Alex’s attempts to convince Hank it was the most blissed out near death experience of his life and they had to do it again. Alex understands: sitting vigil by your boyfriend’s bedside in the infirmary for two days while your shared best friend teased you relentlessly could do that to you (damn you, Sean).
But it’s been a month, they’ve never gone far with Hank’s new form, and Alex just really, really wants him.
Hank speaks slowly, halting.
“Alex, I’m – I’m not going to… it’s not worth it—“
Anger curls through Alex hot and offended, though it clenches like hurt in his chest.
“It’s not worth it?”
Hank finally meets his eye and the arousal is still there, but his disappointment is heavier and Alex knows he won’t be able to push Hank tonight.
“That’s not what I meant— I mean—“
“You think you’re the only one that has to worry about control? Fuck you.”
Hank’s face twists like he’s been stung, Alex grabs his shirt and tugs it back on, sitting on the bed’s edge. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he glares at the far wall away from Hank and Hank hovers as long as it takes for him to get the message, slowly rising and letting himself out without a word.
Alex shuts his eyes as soon as he hears the door click shut and he stamps his foot, cursing under his breath.
Alex only cares as much about the science of their mutations as it takes for him to keep up with the vague line of a conversation between Hank and Charles (or ‘the Professor’, as Alex and Sean were calling him now), because when Hank ends up in his room babbling excitedly about the latest breakthrough, Alex usually just smirks in bemusement.
He decided to sit up and pay attention when he realized how hot it got Hank that Alex was listening and understood, mouthing his questions or interest into Hank’s skin as he kissed down his neck, his smooth chest, the hard muscles of his stomach that explained how he did those back flips onto ceiling fans so easily, and then Hank would groan that much louder when Alex finally swallowed him down.
Making Hank come apart under him was one of Alex’s favorite things, so he was pretty pissed one of his best hobbies had been taken away from him.
Alex cares about the science, the tech and the gadgets even less now that Hank shuts him down every time things start getting good, so he doesn’t find out about the chair until a week after it’s been installed in one of the underground bunkers.
It’s a sign of the changing times that the Professor wants them to be prepared for whatever might come through their front door and the secure lock-up facility underground is almost finished before Alex even learns about it. He’s been responsible for recruitment and the number of fellow mutants walking the halls has grown to twelve, but it’s different from their first family that came here together and Alex thinks the lock-up is as much for any of their surprises as it is for unwelcome guests.
He hears the animal roar of fury walking back from his own training bunker and his blood goes cold.
Hank.
The hallway of bunkers is long, but when he gets to the right one, skidding to a halt as his hand catches the door jam, he finds the Professor wheeling around a tall throne of what looks like metal and stone confused material. Hank is shackled into it and Alex jumps again when he snarls, sharp and dangerous, body tensed as he tries to tear free from his restraints.
The Professor is thoughtfully watching a series of monitors on the back wall and he looks back at Hank as though the other scientist has just offered him a cup of tea.
“Well, I can’t see any signs of stress, Hank, but I doubt you’ll be the biggest or angriest thing that we’ll ever see,” the Professor says conversationally.
“What the hell is going on?” Alex asks and Hank’s head snaps up in surprise, his fight against the chair evaporating as though Alex had caught him doing something guilty.
The chair is the only thing in the room and Alex recognises solitary confinement.
“I – uh – this… uh.” Hank glances at the Professor for help. “This might look weird.”
“I think your test is complete.” The Professor points a tiny remote at the chair and the solid, shining metal binding Hank around the waist, ankles, and wrists slide back into the chair with a hiss of ease. “We’ll need to find another subject, but lacking that, another method if you want to raise the thresholds. That will do, Hank.”
The Professor hands Hank back the remote and pushes himself in his wheelchair towards the entrance, smiling up at his other ward kindly as he passes.
“Hello, Alex.”
“Uh – see you, Professor.”
“Please, Alex; Charles. I don’t like feeling gray before my time,” the Professor says as he wheels out the door.
“Sure thing, Professor,” Alex calls over his shoulder, but he’s still staring at Hank in that chair with his hands pulled to his lap.
Hank’s shoulders are hunched like he’s about to be reprimanded and it’s such a funny look for his intimidating size. Hank himself hadn’t grown much bigger when he changed, but he had filled out with more muscle and bulk than Alex would ever have unless he seriously committed to weight training. And Alex was… oddly okay with the surprise switch between the two of them.
“Nice chair,” Alex says and he smirks when Hank squirms in his seat.
Alex does miss being able to see the flush in his cheeks, but instead of the blush, he’s learned Hank’s skin now tenses, betraying his feeling with a ripple in his fur. It’s even easier to read him now.
“What do you want, Alex?”
“I like your taste.” Alex ignores the question, rounding Hank to inspect the chair from the back, kicking its legs bolted into the ground. It doesn’t budge or even make a sound and Alex favors his foot with a silent-mouthed ‘O’ of pain when the vibration feeds back into him. When he gets his face back under control, he walks around to the front. “Is it your design?”
“Yeah.” Hank eyes him warily with a suspicious frown. “So?”
Alex smirks, cocking his head to the side.
“You made a sex chair.”
He has never seen Hank’s eyes go so round.
“What?”
“It’s kinky.”
“I didn’t – no, I – !” Hank disavows and he bolts upright from his seat, flustered, but Alex steps in his way, putting a hand on Hank’s stomach, when Hank tries to storm past him.
“Hank, Hank, Hank,” Alex calms him, pulling him in with hands on his waist until Hank reluctantly looks him in the eye. Alex straightens Hank’s glasses on his nose. “Look, it’s been five days.”
“You were counting?” Hank doesn’t sound like he believes it.
Alex feels his smirk soften watching Hank’s eyes light up with cautious hope.
“About the other day—“
“I’m sorry,” Hank bursts in and Alex stares at him.
“Dude, that was my line.”
Hank’s mouth twists and he reaches for Alex, their hips brushing when Alex steps in, more than happy at the large, warm hands that close around his waist. He’s missed Hank touching him.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, because I do….” Hank looks down between them and he sighs, he has to try more than once before he can get the words out and Alex waits, stroking over the arms of his lab coat. “I do and it’s really hard not to…. I just – I just don’t want to hurt you again.”
“Hey.” Alex nudges his hips against Hank’s and the other man looks him in the eye. “If I can do this without burning the mansion down, you’ll get there, too.”
Hank sighs.
“Alex, it’s not the same.”
“Then what about that chair?”
Hank stiffens and he looks back at his latest invention doubtfully.
“You were serious about that?”
“I’m serious about how much I want you in that chair right now.”
“… Oh.”
It’s short work getting out of their clothes once the bunker door is bolted behind them and Hank lifts Alex by his hips, wrapping his legs around him, walking back until they fall into the chair and Alex hopes he never loses the thrill of how strong Hank is now.
“Do you want me to--?” Hank stops when his arms are pushed into the restraints splayed away from the main back and the shackles snap into place.
Alex feels him tense in surprise, the muscles of Hank’s arms flexing under his hands. He drags fingers down through the thick fur and then up towards Hank’s shoulders, leaning up to kiss and muffle the small groan of pleasure when Alex rocks against his bare stomach, already half-hard.
“No,” Alex says, because if he takes away every means for Hank to hurt him, then he can’t complain, and he feels hot and impatient and this may just be the best idea he’s ever had. “Do you trust me?”
Hank nods, eager and hungry and Alex is so, so glad he’s not the only one. He pulls Hank’s glasses free and they fall somewhere on his lab coat by the chair’s legs.
He presses Hank back into that chair with weight on his thighs and hands on his shoulders, their kisses turning wet and messy, and Hank honest to God hisses when Alex hits one of the buttons on the remote and the band of reinforced steel closes low around his stomach, forcing him back and still. He can’t rise up to meet Alex like this and Alex can’t help the smirk that pulls at his mouth again because Hank may be snarling and hissing that he’s given Alex this advantage, but it’s awesome and it does things to him.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t think of us when you designed this,” Alex challenges, kissing Hank open-mouthed and hungry before he can reply, rising up on his knees on the seat that was wide enough for him and Hank.
He shudders at the growl that resonates through him where Hank tangles their tongues.
“I’m not the biggest thing out there,” Hank says when he gets air.
“You’re big enough,” Alex tries, and fails, not to laugh because Hank walked right into that one.
“Is that your idea of dirty talk?” Hank’s droll expression lasts for as long as it takes for Alex to wrap his spit-slicked palm around Hank and pull him in long, slow strokes.
Eyes shut, head fallen back against the chair’s back, Hank misses the sight of Alex sucking on his own fingers. When Hank hears the first tell of Alex’s muted groan, Alex is already pushing his fingers into himself, knees splayed as wide as they’ll go over Hank’s thighs and he’s shuddering, mouth fallen open as he thrusts into himself, trying not to tense, unfocused gaze somewhere on Hank’s chest, and his grip falters on Hank’s cock as he finds his prostate, hips bucking before he pushes his fingers in deeper, harder with a groan that sounds almost painful.
Hank’s mouth is watering when Alex’s eyes finally meet his, almost lost to his own lust, Hank strains against the metal on his arms, the cold band bites into his skin when he involuntarily surges forward, and Alex’s mouth cracks in that low, familiar smirk.
“I wish it was your fingers in me,” Alex groans, eyes falling to Hank’s mouth and his eyes slip shut for a moment again when he rocks back down onto his fingers, “You’re so much bigger, you’d stretch me wide, and your fingertips… pads are like leather. I bet it would feel amazing if they could find me here and fuck me over and over.”
“… Alex,” Hank murmurs, stunned, and Alex whimpers, his stomach clenching as his fingers mimic his fantasy. Hank shivers, everything in him screaming to drag Alex closer, he can’t stop twitching and tensing against the restraints, and he never thought he’d be so furious with himself for building something so well. He feels like he’s on fire, he knows he’s shaking and he wants Alex so much it physically hurts.
Alex may not even have to touch him in the end if he kept this up, but suddenly he’s pulled his fingers out and dragged himself closer, knees flush to the chair’s back as he braces himself over Hank, reaching down briefly to grab the condom from his clothes, and Hank should really not be surprised that Alex walks around with these things in his pants.
“Alex… Alex, was that enough?” Hank barely recognizes his own voice, hoarse and desperate, though in spite of how much he wants this, he doesn’t think Alex took enough time, he can’t be ready, but Alex has already torn the packet with his teeth and he’s sliding the lubricated glove onto him.
Alex drinks down Hank’s groan, pumping him with his hand and Hank kisses back greedily, soaking in the smell of Alex’s sweat and dizzying arousal, all for him, and he tries once more to break his bonds before he realizes he’s doing it.
“Fuck,” Alex gasps at the snarl Hank bleeds against his lips, he looks into Hank’s face with such open want and confusing reverence, it makes the hunger in his gut lash dangerously. He leans in shaking his head with a smile and brushes Hank’s mouth with kisses between his words. “Fuck… you’re amazing, you stupid Bozo. Why do you do this to me?”
“’S not my fault,” Hank replies, distracted, because Alex is sinking down onto him and Hank wants to remember that taut expression of concentration, the slow, constricting heat that’s still too tight, and Alex hovers, chest heaving with a deep breath, then another, and then he pushes himself down the rest of the way, knocking the air from Hank’s chest.
Alex rests against him for a moment, shivering against his chest and the cool metal of the waist band, as he tries to catch his breath.
“Everything is your fault… ‘cept when it’s mine,” Alex mutters and tilts his head back with a smile.
Their next kiss is tender, easy, and familiar, then Alex inhales sharply against his lips, reaching over Hank’s head to grip the chair’s frame. He rises up on his knees halfway and rocks back down, trembling as he adjusts, and Hank braces himself against the chair, bonds holding him tight when he instinctively thrusts up.
Alex smirks down at him, seeing the shock in his face because he forgot for a moment, and he doesn’t give Hank time to recover, muscles tensing in his arms as he rolls his hips in Hank’s lap, streaking precome across the metal over his stomach. Alex shivers, teeth clenched around a cry, he does it again. Hank shuts his eyes at the impossible clench around him as Alex gets his bearings and starts rocking himself up and down onto Hank’s cock again and again, first deeper, then faster, until he’s shaking and panting and riding Hank hard into the chair.
It’s stone and metal but being trapped between the contrast of cold and hard beneath and behind him with Alex, hot, trembling and alive is almost blinding. Alex slams himself down, and Hank groans low in his throat, the sound ending dangerously close to a whine as Alex mouths the skin of his neck with wet kisses, tilting his head back.
“Alex,” Hank begs, breathless and desperate, and he thinks he hears the metal of his restraints complain when he pulls against them, aching to touch.
“Come on, Hank, come on… come on.” Alex’s breath puffs hot against his ear and his skin is flushed with sweat, eyes dark, and his smile is shaky when he pulls himself up again with arms bracketed around Hank’s head, before sinking back down. “I’ll go slow for you, baby, it’s just you and me. It’s you and me and I want you to get there, come on, come on….”
Hank isn’t sure if Alex means to hit the button, but suddenly Hank can breathe a little better, metal snicks home and he realizes the band around his waist has retracted. Alex realizes a moment after he does and they almost stop, staring at each other as though wondering what does this….?
But then Alex’s smile turns wicked and the next time he shoves down, Hank drives up into him, and Alex cries out with the force of it.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, God,” Alex pants, his expression confused, and Hank's heart almost beats out of his chest.
“Alex--?”
Alex cuts him off with a deep kiss, harsh and consuming.
“Do it again.”
So, Hank does. He uses the leverage from his still trapped arms and Alex pushes back just as hard, Hank really worries they’ll split him apart, but he’s too far gone to stop himself, and it’s completely addictive watching Alex unravel above him making all sorts of noises he’ll later disavow. He watches for as long as he can and he feels Alex’s fingers on his lips when his hips stutter through the short, brutal rhythm. He cries out when his release crashes against him, sudden and violent, Alex braces himself with hands on the chair’s frame and clamps down, riding the force of it. He comes a few moments later and moans helplessly into Hank’s neck, streaking white as he thrusts against Hank’s stomach, his hands fisted in the fur over his biceps.
For a long few moments, their harsh breaths ring in the quiet of the bunker with Alex completely melted against him, and then the final hiss of metal pulls back and Hank groans with relief, finally, wrapping his arms around Alex. His hold only tightens when Alex whimpers, a hoarse, exhausted note in his throat and shifts deeper into his embrace.
“Think the Professor will still want to use this chair?” Hank wonders aloud, finding his voice wrecked, and Alex groans against his shoulder.
“Don’t talk about the Professor when we’re naked.”
“Sorry, I just—“
Alex raises his head and kisses Hank, just a simple press of mouths, but still so final. “Just you and me, Hank.”
Hank nods as Alex searches his face and he feels himself smile, warmed by the tired fondness in Alex’s expression.
“Mind giving me a minute for the feeling to come back in my legs?” Alex mumbles, resting his forehead back on Hank’s shoulder.
“I’ll give you two,” Hank says and Alex chuckles against his neck.
