FIC: alex & hank's semi-virtual romance, or, how facebook got me to third base | x-men: first class
Title: Alex & Hank's Semi-Virtual Romance, Or, How Facebook Got Me to Third Base
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Hank/Alex
Warnings: Modern AU, a little cyberstalking.
Summary: Alex finds Hank's profile pictures pretty, um, entrancing. This means they should be boyfriendz.
A/N: For this prompt at xmen_firstkink. If I had any skills whatsoever with multimedia, I would have made this a SHOEBOX PROJECT WITH EXTRA GROPING type deal. Alas, I do not, so this is what you get. I haven’t decided if it’s crack yet. Modern AU, everybody’s at the mansion, no divorce.
--
Alex had been trying for weeks to get Hank to accept him as a friend on Facebook. It was totally stupid, Alex knew, but it had been bugging him. It started, as all things do, with a dare from Sean - “I bet he wouldn’t do it, he hates your guts” - but when Hank ignored his first twelve friend requests, Alex started getting irritated.
“I’m being so much nicer to him now. What’s got up his butt?” he complained to Sean.
Sean smiled at him innocently. “Yeah, you only called him a bozo twice today.”
“ . . . That’s still nicer.”
“Maybe he just holds a grudge,” Sean suggested.
He’d lost interest in this, but Alex certainly hadn’t. Maybe Hank was hiding something from him, something scandalous, like the details of his secret hipster fetish. It made Alex even angrier when, after some semi-guilty e-stalking, he saw that Hank was friends with everybody else in the mansion, even Angel, who Alex knew made Hank kind of uncomfortable, having what Hank referred to as a “history”.
Did Hank seriously hate him that much? Alex had kind of been joking, mostly, some of the time. What was the deal?
Alex wondered, as he logged on and typed in Hank’s name, if maybe he was getting a little obsessive. Cyber-stalking was bad. Charles had had a whole discussion with them about this. But Hank’s page never showed anything anyway, everything was hidden but his name and -
“Whoa,” Alex said under his breath as the page finished loading. “Where did that come from?”
Hank, it seemed, had put up a new profile picture. This one, though, was monumentally different from the old one. There were superficial differences - the lighting was better, Hank was smiling and looking slightly off-camera, but the big differences were
a) his glasses were off, and
b) he oozed confidence.
Alex had literally never, not once, seen Hank look like he’d just swaggered somewhere. This, though, was a post-swagger face. Smiling wasn’t even the right word; he was smirking, like he’d just heard a dirty joke and found it funny but a little beneath him. Plus, his eyes. Were. Huge. Huuuuge.
It was amazing. It was hypnotic. This was a guy Alex would follow off the edge of a cliff on charm alone. How the hell had he done it?
Without really thinking about what he was doing, he sent another friend request, along with the message, “Nice pic.”
It took about ten minutes to get a response, during which time Alex bit his nails. When the little red box popped up, he sat up straighter.
Ha ha, very funny. I’m not friending you.
Alex wilted.
I was being serious! he typed grumpily. It’s a good picture.
There was a long pause.
Really?
Alex sighed.
Yes, idiot. You look good.
That was kind of . . . eesh. That wasn’t the kind of thing Alex said, typically. He didn’t want to start. Just because it was a great fucking picture . . .
Another little red box popped up in the corner of the screen. Alex read it and grinned.
Hank M wants to be your friend.
“Motherfucking accept,” Alex said to himself, clicking, and closed his laptop. He stretched his arms over his head, arching his back.
For the moment, he was content.
--
It didn’t last, though, because Sean existed.
“Shit on a priest, did you see Hank’s profile picture?” he whispered to Alex over mashed potatoes that night. “He looks edible.”
Alex choked on a piece of skin, drawing everyone’s attention to their end of the table. “I’m - okay - “ he wheezed, covering his mouth and hacking until tears came to his eyes.
Gradually, everyone looked away, leaving Alex to gasp and glare at Sean, who was waiting patiently for a response. “What the hell kind of thing is that to say about your friend?” he snarled under his breath. “That’s - that’s objectifying!”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, “you thought it, too,” and poured some more gravy onto his potatoes.
Suddenly Alex isn’t very hungry anymore.
Because, well, he kind of had thought about it. Not in those words, because ew, Sean, ew, but . . . Hank looked good in that picture. Nerd hot.
Oh god, Alex thought, I’m gay for nerds.
--
Hank M enjoyed the chicken and potatoes tonight, as well as the show.
→ Alex Didyourmom Summers Get a job and stop being a douchebag.
→ Hank M I was only observing. Also, I have a job. You’re the one who doesn’t.
→ Sean Cassidy It’s so cute when you two fight.
→ Sean Cassidy Also, Alex, you’re a much bigger douchebag than Hank.
→ Alex Didyourmom Summers fuckyougetoutsean
→ Charles ‘Professor’ Xavier I have to concur with Sean, actually, although this language is not exactly appropriate.
→ Alex Didyourmom Summers Dude, you are TOO OLD for Facebook.
→ Charles ‘Professor’ Xavier . . . :(
--
Alex’s decision to take a new profile picture had nothing to do with the fact that Hank’s was so distractingly awesome and everything to do with the fact that his was three whole weeks old. He decided to dress a little sharp - light purple blazer under a dark blue suit coat with matching pants - and not tell Sean even the slightest detail of what he was doing, because he would just never hear the end of it.
He was pretty good at lighting and angles, actually, and he knew how to set the timer on his digital camera, so he was set. However, he’d forgotten how long the timer was supposed to last, so he was in the middle of licking his lips nervously when the flash went off.
“Shit,” he muttered, going over to check the outcome. Peering into the camera, he saw . . .
“Whoa.”
It was . . . well, it wasn’t sexual, exactly, but it could be interpreted that way. He’d never seen his mouth quite that red before.
I wonder if Hank will like it.
Shaking his head, he frowned and uploaded it before he could change his mind.
--
He got an IM from Hank almost right away. As he opened it, he expected shock, disgust, even a little bit of titillation, but all he got was amusement.
Hank M Is this a competition?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Huh?
Hank M Oh, come on, you know what I’m talking about. The picture. The one where you’re pretending to be sensual.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Pretending? I’m hurt!
Hank M Then you did do it on purpose.
Alex Didyourmom Summers I honestly didn’t. But I’m glad it did something for you. ;)
For a second Alex just stared in horror at the screen. He couldn’t take it back! There was no Control+Z for his life! Hank would hate him forever! Which, you know, he shouldn’t have been super worried about, but it would be awkward.
Hank M Only a little something.
Alex’s mouth fell open.
This wasn’t happening. No way. He was not flirting with Hank fucking McCoy on Facebook chat. His life could not be this bizarre.
Hank M Alex? You still there?
He had to say something or Hank would get offended . . . oh god, how to diffuse this situation . . .
Alex Didyourmom Summers You should change yours, too. You need a fresh look.
Hank M I could do that. Do you have anything in mind?
Alex Didyourmom Summers I have a Rolling Stones shirt you can borrow. You’d look good in it.
Don’t tell him he can borrow your shirt! Don’t tell him he’d look good in it! Alex screamed at himself. Trying for self-preservation, he added,
Alex Didyourmom Summers I mean, it’s a really comfortable shirt.
Hank M Right.
Hank M Well, lend it to me in the morning. I’m going to bed. Night.
There was a pause, and then:
Hank M ;)
Alex stared at the screen in disbelief. A few seconds later, a notification came up.
Hank M likes your new profile picture.
He went to bed in despair.
--
The next morning, as he was toweling his hair dry after his shower, he remembered the conversation and the whole shirt issue. He groaned to himself. It would be so weird to have Hank wearing his shirt around, like they were sleeping together or something. Maybe he’d just wear it to take the picture.
Slipping on a plain white tee, he pulled his Forty Licks shirt from the drawer and stepped out into the hall. Hank’s room was in a different wing, so he had an uncomfortably long time to think about the situation.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this jittery around someone, but it had definitely been a girl. Alex could hope that his body was just confused because of Hank’s girl-mouth and weird flirting, but he didn’t really buy it. He was genuinely attracted to Hank McCoy, the geek with the weird feet.
Now that he thought about it - fuck, he had been pulling pigtails this whole time, hadn’t he? What a fucking cliché. There’d been a couple nights when he hadn’t quite thought of Hank as he touched himself, but rather parts of Hank: his eyes, his jaw, his shoulders, his crazy girl-mouth around his -
Chill, he instructed himself as he got closer to Hank’s door. Swallowing, ridiculously nervous, he knocked, then leaned in a hopefully nonchalant way against the doorframe.
After a moment, the door opened and Hank stepped out. His hair was rumpled, he was only wearing boxers, and Alex found his eyes glued to the pale expanse of surprisingly trim chest. Hank must have worked out extra in secret or something. Or just naturally be in amazing shape. Alex thought maybe he was salivating.
“Did I oversleep? Is it time for breakfast already?” Hank mumbled, yawning, then blinked at Alex. “What’s up?” he asked curiously.
Alex looked up into the bluest eyes in the entire universe and died a little. “Um, I brought you the shirt,” he managed and held it out gracelessly.
Pulling it gently from his grasp, Hank grinned a little. “Forty Licks,” he said, “classic. Thanks,” he added, looking up and snaring Alex with those eyes again.
“No problem,” Alex croaked. He just could not deal with this. “See you at breakfast.” He got the hell out of there, trying not to think about Hank maybe reaching out for him and pulling them back into the room, arms wrapped around his waist.
--
There was an IM waiting for him when he got online to check his email after breakfast.
Sean Cassidy Dude. Dude. Why was Hank wearing your shirt at breakfast?!
Alex Didyourmom Summers He wasn’t. I guess he has his own Forty Licks shirt. Looks good on him.
Sean Cassidy Don’t pull that, it has the little stain on the collar from where you spilled coffee. But it does look good on him, which begs the question, does it look better off him?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Come on, Sean. Disrespectful much?
Sean Cassidy Whatever. I just thought you’d be a little more forthcoming when you figured it out.
Alex Didyourmom Summers . . . ?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Figured what out?
Sean Cassidy You’re a big gaybo.
Sean Cassidy has signed off.
--
Alex signed off in despair, did a little homework, thought a little about maybe he’s gay? maybe he’s not? and decided it’s not worth the energy, what will be will be, blah et cetera. He had to go to training in a few minutes, but he decided to check Facebook really quickly, just in case . . . something. Just in case of something.
Hank M changed his profile picture.
Suddenly Alex’s heart was racing, because in the tiny preview picture he could see Hank’s wearing his shirt and tight blue jeans and something in him revved up as he clicked the picture and -
His heart fucking stopped.
Because this was clearly a dare, a challenge, Hank leaning against the wall of his room with one hip cocked, looking off to one side, and licking his lip. Not even licking - teasing. Like he was about to kiss the daylights out of somebody.
For god’s sake, Alex thought in a daze, let it be me.
He stared down at Hank’s shoulders, his arms, god, his arms, and then back up at his mouth. His tongue was so - and his lips - god, if that stupid boy just kissed him Alex thought he might die happy, no more of this flirting online and awkward in person bullshit, just - a deep hot kiss, that wet tongue sliding its way between his lips.
His computer pinged. Alex started as he realized he was half-hard and reaching for his fly. Looking at the sender of the message, Alex groaned. It was Hank.
Hank M Do you like it?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Yeah.
Hank M Just yeah?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Yeah, it looks good. You look confident.
Hank M Confident is good. I was going for something kind of different.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Like . . . ?
Hank M Never mind. I’ll keep trying.
Hank M Your shirt smells good, by the way. I like the detergent you use.
Alex Didyourmom Summers I use what we all use, man.
Hank M Oh. Then I guess it must just be you.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Oh.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Gotta go, homework.
Hank M Okay. Later.
Alex skipped training entirely. It was worth it. He lay in bed and touched himself, slow and shaking, thinking nothing but Hank, Hank, Hank.
--
Sean cornered him before breakfast the next morning and, as usual, didn’t waste any time. “He’s flirting with you,” he said, “so you should fuck him. Soon, preferably.”
“Sean,” Alex told him, trying desperately to hold onto his patience, “it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“It is,” Sean argued, “and I’ll tell you why.” He began to count on his fingers. “For one: I’m your friend, and this is me helping you. For two: I heard you shouting his name all last night and it kept me from getting to sleep. And three: If you don’t do something about that mouth, mate, I will.”
Alex slammed him up against the wall, rage swallowing every sensible sentiment in his body. He held Sean up by the collar, shaking him slightly. “Don’t you dare,” he breathed. “Don’t you dare go near him.”
Sean, to his credit, didn’t look afraid. After a moment, though, he did look up and wave his fingers. “Hi, Hank,” he croaked.
Whirling around and letting Sean drop to the floor, Alex saw, with a nauseating mixture of lust and horror, that Hank was standing right behind him, looking at the two of them quizzically. He’d left his glasses somewhere, goddamn it.
“You okay?” Hank was asking Sean, who shrugged noncommittally. Then Hank looked at Alex.
Maybe it was Alex’s imagination, or blind hope, but he thought maybe something was beckoning him from somewhere inside Hank’s neutral stare.
“Can I talk to you?” fell out of Alex’s mouth.
Hank nodded. “I was just about to suggest that. Let’s go to my room.”
--
“I gotta know,” Alex asked as they walked. “Did Sean set that up?”
Hank snorted. “I think so,” he said. “He told me to meet him in the hall after breakfast, and he was obviously trying to rile you up, so . . . “
“I don’t really get what he thought that was going to prove.”
“I think the idea was to let me see you fighting for me,” Hank said, looking down and away.
Alex sighed. “You heard that, huh?” Awkward. Super awkward. Flirting aside, Hank wasn’t gay. He had that whole thing for Raven that he never let go of.
Scratching the side of his nose, Hank shrugged tightly. “I mean, it worked.”
Alex stared straight ahead. “Meaning . . . “
“Well, I know it’s completely gross that you’re weird-possessive over me like that, but it’s pretty hot.”
“What?” Alex grabbed Hank by the shirtsleeve, dragging him to a stop. “No way, explain that to me. Is it gross or hot?”
Hank rolled his eyes and blushed. “It’s just . . . it’s cute. That you get so worked up about me.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. He could feel himself kind of smiling. “How worked up do you wanna see me?”
“I want to kiss you,” Hank told him matter-of-factly, locking eyes with him again.
Goddamn those eyes. Alex was paralyzed. “You . . . uh . . . “
“Want to kiss you,” Hank repeated patiently. “I kind of figured you wanted to kiss me too.”
“I, um.” Alex’s brain was sending him mixed signals. It was all very well and good to be gay in theory, but something about the practice of it still wigged him out. On the other hand, Hank was . . . was just, in general, so attractive. And actually nice, in an infuriatingly smart way, and -
Licking his lips nervously. Oh god.
Alex’s mouth fell open slightly and he breathed in, deep and fast. “Uh, yeah, I definitely do,” he managed. “And by the way, that’s a great trick for distracting anybody with eyes.”
Hank stopped, lips wet, tongue at the corner of his mouth. “What is?”
“Just - “ Alex swallowed again. “Your mouth. In general.”
They were at Hank’s door now. Hank leaned against it awkwardly, smiling a little. At Alex. “Yeah?” he said, looking at him from under his lashes.
“Yeah.” Alex cleared his throat, folding his arms. “Um. Are we still gonna make with the kissing? Because - “
And suddenly Hank surged forward, grabbed Alex by the chin, and pulled him forward into a hot, awkward, wet kiss. His lips were closed in what might have been an attempt at a chaste peck, but it didn’t work with Hank’s lips; Alex panted, open-mouthed, against him, and gave quick licks to the corners of his mouth. Soon enough Hank was pressed up against the door, whimpering, eyes half-lidded and lips slipping slowly open. Alex could feel his breath on his mouth; his hands slipped under that goddamn Forty Licks shirt, sliding up -
“Ahem.”
Alex whipped around, pressing his back against Hank in some vain attempt to hide him. It was, of course, Charles, the only person in the mansion who could clear his throat in a way that made you feel simultaneously guilty and stupid. His arms were crossed, his fingers tapping at his elbows, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Not that I’m not . . . pleased,” he said, inclining his head, “but we do have lessons to be getting to. Don’t we?”
“Of course!” Alex squeaked. “We sure do! Right, Hank?”
Hank was beet-red and clearly incapable of speech. Alex reached up, grabbed his jaw, and nodded his head for him. “Yes, professor!” he said, in his best Hank impersonation. “Right away, professor!”
Pressing a hand to his mouth, Charles shook his head, turned, and walked away. Alex sighed and was about to give Hank a little space when strong arms curled around his waist.
“Wait,” Hank pleaded, “just a second.”
Craning his neck to look up at him, Alex smiled. Hank’s blush was fading, but he still looked very much affected by what they’d been doing before Charles interrupted. He was biting his lips and looking down at Alex.
“We can . . . do this again,” he said, “right? Like, tonight?”
“Oh my god.” Alex leaned up and pressed his lips to Hank’s, tongue teasing between his lips. “You have to ask?”
“ . . . I guess not,” Hank murmured. He was grinning a little. Alex wanted to fuck him right now, but that would be moving kind of fast, so he kissed him again, going for wicked this time. He left Hank breathless.
He wanted to do that forever, now.
--
He could feel Hank staring at him during training. He couldn’t help staring back when he thought Charles wasn’t looking, taking in the sweat stains on Hank’s back, imagining the length of his legs under his suit. He managed to steal Hank away for a couple of minutes, during which Sean created a (maybe purposeful) diversion. Alex pressed him up against a tree and absolutely mauled his mouth, delighted to feel him harden through that skintight fucking suit, to feel him pant into his hair as Alex bit his neck. “Not so hard, not so hard,” Hank whined, so Alex only left a little hickey, and he didn’t think anybody noticed (except maybe Sean).
What with that and the constant brushing against each other in the hall, Alex was more than a little wired by the time he knocked on Hank’s door that night. He felt awkward, like he should have brought flowers or something, but he knew Hank would have laughed at him.
Bouncing from foot to foot, he looked up when he heard the knob turning. Hank poked his head out, then opened the door wide when he saw it was Alex. His grin was so wide it looked like it hurt.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, like a purr. “Wanna, um, come in?”
He stepped out of the way to let Alex through; Alex ducked under his arm, tucked his fingers into Hank’s belt loop, and dragged him in with him, pushing him against the door to close it.
“Hey,” he said. “Have I mentioned how amazingly hot it is that you’re still wearing my shirt?”
“U-um, no,” Hank stammered. “But it’s probably about equal to you kissing me against every available surface.”
“You talk too much,” Alex said, cocking his head and looking up at him. “You should put your tongue in my mouth instead.”
“Ummmmm.” There was a thump as Hank’s head falls back against the door. “Wow, Alex.”
“What?” Alex smirked. “Too much for you?”
“No, just - um.” He swallowed. “I just, I really, really want to do more than that.”
“Moving a little fast, there,” Alex said, “maybe you should - “
But Hank’s mouth was on his, hot like a brand, and Alex stopped thinking. It was slow, so achingly slow at first, tiny dry kisses despite Alex’s tiny moans and the press of their hips together. But as they stumbled towards the bed (unconsciously, maybe inevitably), Hank got more demanding, biting at Alex’s bottom lip and sucking until it was red and swollen, pulling him in close.
Alex could feel Hank’s fingers shaking as he slid his fingers down Alex’s back to cup his ass. Moaning into his mouth, Alex pressed himself closer to Hank, hand creeping up to stroke the back of Hank’s neck. “Little handsy?” he murmured; Hank growled and squeezed in response, making Alex cry out and cling to him.
He slipped a hand between them, slid his fingers under Hank’s shirt, running his nails over Hank’s abs and shivering. He wanted to bite them. He wanted to bite Hank all over. He wanted to make him scream. God, he was going to die, because the list of things he wanted was so fucking long.
And then there was a knock at the door and Sean’s voice - never more obnoxious - asking, “Hank? You in there? I’m looking for Alex.”
“Shit!”
They scrambled apart, both breathing heavily; Hank’s hair was mussed and Alex’s lip was swollen. Alex was the first to laugh.
“Fuck, we look awful,” he said. “I’ll go take care of him.” After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed a stray bit of Hank’s hair behind his ear. “I’ll come by before breakfast tomorrow,” he added, leaning up for another kiss.
“Okay,” Hank said, looking forlorn and abandoned. “In the morning.”
--
“You are such a fucking cockblock, you enormous douche,” Alex complained the second he got out the door. “I should’ve actually beaten you up this morning.”
“Dude, you look a mess,” Sean said conversationally as they began to walk. “Like you’ve been mauled.”
“Maybe I have,” Alex snarled, “or maybe I was about to be, and then you - “
“Sorry! Sorry!” Sean put his hands up in front of himself defensively. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I know you didn’t get it, why I said that about Hank.”
Sighing, Alex shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I mean, you meant well, so it’s whatever,” he said. “Just . . . don’t say shit like that about him.”
“So it’s serious?”
Alex looked over at Sean. He was staring straight ahead as he walked, but the edge of his mouth twitched.
“I don’t know,” Alex said, stopping at his door. “Maybe.”
“I’m just glad you’re not mooning anymore.” Sean grinned, slapping him on the back.
“I never mooned!”
“Whatever you say, friend.” With a lazy salute, Sean turned and stepped into his room across the hall, leaving Alex to wonder how tremendously gross he’d been about Hank, and for how long.
--
Alex had trouble sleeping that night. He kept thinking about Hank and getting worked up about the next day. The whole having-gay-sex deal still freaked him out, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine that the two of them would be able to keep going without doing something that resulted in amazing orgasms.
He woke in the morning, bleary-eyed, and thought first of Hank. He stumbled into the shower, let the water fall hot over his body.
He was going to see Hank in maybe ten minutes. His body wouldn’t let him forget that, surging forward against his hands as he lathered soap across his belly, and his mind wouldn’t stop going once it started, remembering the tightness of Hank’s chest and how firm he felt against him.
There was no point resisting, not this early in the morning. Alex cupped at himself, squeezed, and tilted his head back into the spray, breathing in steam. He thought how different Hank’s hand would feel: longer fingers, tighter grip, a little rougher, more desperate and eager to learn what spots would make Alex twist.
He came over his fist, stumbled back against the cool tile of the wall, and smiled. It felt . . . good, thinking about Hank like that. He’d thought it would be weird, but it felt normal as anything.
Alex toweled off and got dressed quickly, relaxed and awake now, and walked quickly to Hank’s room. The door opened immediately at his knock, and Hank was standing there with a grin, still in his tight cotton sleep shirt and boxers.
“Hi,” he said, “come on in.”
Alex slipped past him, brushing his shoulder against Hank’s on the way. He felt Hank watching his ass and the movement of his legs and smirked to himself, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You look good,” Hank said, scratching his neck. “I mean, relaxed.”
“I am,” Alex told him, falling back onto the bed. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
“Thinking of me as in, as in . . . “ Hank swallowed. “As in thinking, or thinking?”
Alex laughed. “The second kind, I guess. In the shower.”
Hank swallowed and sat down next to him. Alex looked up. “Me too,” Hank said, “except not, um, in the shower.”
Alex didn’t respond, his eyes falling half-shut. Well. That was a mental picture.
Hank, of course, had started babbling in the silence.
“I just, you got me really worked up, and, um, that’s not weird, right?”
“I did it too,” Alex responded patiently, letting his hand rest on Hank’s leg.
“Yeah,” Hank breathed, “you did,” and his pupils were wide; Alex could feel his skin hot under the thin cotton of his boxers.
“You don’t have to ask to kiss me anymore, you know,” Alex ventured, and Hank rolled onto Alex, crouched over him, and pressed his full weight onto Alex’s hips. Leaning down, he kissed Alex ravenously, open-mouthed, biting at his lips and then his jaw, sucking his earlobe into his mouth. Alex arched and hissed at that, hips pressing up into Hank’s groin. “Oh god,” he managed to get out before Hank’s fingers pressed over his lips.
Hank bit at his neck, sucked, and Alex couldn’t take not doing anything anymore: he slid his hands up the front of Hank’s shirt and tweaked at his nipples, one after the other, sucking Hank’s fingers into his mouth and running his teeth over the ridges of his fingerprints. Hank moaned, head falling to rest in the crook of Alex’s neck. There was a gasp, then a quiet snuffling noise.
“Are you . . . are you smelling me?” Alex managed to gasp out.
“Shut up,” Hank hissed, biting down hard on his shoulder through his shirt. He seemed to be losing control just a little. He was muttering things like “ready” and “fuck”, which made Alex squirm and harden. When Hank pulled back, his glasses were askew, his lips were flushed and open, and his hair was in his eyes. Alex wanted to push it back, kiss every inch of him until he screamed and let everything go.
“Hank?” Alex said, scratching his fingernails down Hank’s erect nipples. “You okay?”
”Wannafuck,” Hank muttered into Alex’s neck, biting at the space between neck and shoulder and sucking.
With a gasp, Alex wrapped one leg around Hank’s waist. “Wh-what?” he stammered, unsure if he’d heard right.
“I want to fuck you,” Hank repeated, like he’d been practicing for this moment.
Alex’s balls drew up and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh god, man, I don’t - I don’t know if I’d last through that, can we - can I just touch you?” After a moment of no words and heavy breathing, he let out a desperate, “Please?”
“Yes,” Hank grunted, and he pulled Alex all the way up on the bed and pressed their hips together, making Alex arch and moan.
Fumbling, hungry, and heedless now of time, breakfast, training, anything but this this this, Alex reached down under the waistband of Hank’s boxers. He was astonished at the heat, the size of him, but swallowed and wrapped his fingers around Hank, stroking slowly and without finesse.
Hank didn’t seem to care that it was inelegant, tilting his head back and whining deep in his throat. “Alex . . . “ trickled out, choking Alex and making him thrust his hips up, dying for friction. Undoing his pants with one hand, he pushed them down slightly and pulled his cock out, over the discomfort and insecurity, pressing messily against Hank in this moment of pure fucking want.
He tried to get them both in his hand but he couldn’t quite manage to coordinate himself well enough, so he stroked Hank slowly - “Faster, Alex, damn!” - and rutted against him, eyes wide open and staring at Hank. He wanted to see every expression, every second of Hank’s coming apart.
Hank got red fast, his fingers digging into the bedspread. His hips pumped slow and a little uneven into Alex’s hand; his lips were bitten and chapped, his hair sweaty and mussed. Alex couldn’t believe how wrecked he looked, how destroyed.
“God, you’re fuckin’ - so hot,” he managed, and Hank just grunted at him, fucking his hand faster, lips pressing tight together as he came, all over Alex’s stomach and his clean shirt, but fuck it, fuck that shit, Hank was softening against his dick as he arched up one last time against Hank’s perfect hips and just. Let. Go.
For a long couple minutes they couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t manage to move; Hank collapsed on Alex with an “oof” and flopped onto the bed beside him. After a while, though, Hank curled up slightly, fingers resting on Alex’s come-stained t-shirt.
“Best. Orgasm. Ever,” Alex said.
Hank nodded silently, looking at him with warmth in his eyes. “I still want to kiss you,” he added after a minute.
Stomach stuttering, Alex nodded. “Kiss me,” he said, and laughed a little into Hank’s mouth.
--
One week later.
Sean logged on to Facebook, did a double take, and smiled. He was, despite everything, a bit proud of himself.
“It’s about time,” he said, and hit “Like.”
Hank M is in a relationship with Alex Didyourmom Summers.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Hank/Alex
Warnings: Modern AU, a little cyberstalking.
Summary: Alex finds Hank's profile pictures pretty, um, entrancing. This means they should be boyfriendz.
A/N: For this prompt at xmen_firstkink. If I had any skills whatsoever with multimedia, I would have made this a SHOEBOX PROJECT WITH EXTRA GROPING type deal. Alas, I do not, so this is what you get. I haven’t decided if it’s crack yet. Modern AU, everybody’s at the mansion, no divorce.
--
Alex had been trying for weeks to get Hank to accept him as a friend on Facebook. It was totally stupid, Alex knew, but it had been bugging him. It started, as all things do, with a dare from Sean - “I bet he wouldn’t do it, he hates your guts” - but when Hank ignored his first twelve friend requests, Alex started getting irritated.
“I’m being so much nicer to him now. What’s got up his butt?” he complained to Sean.
Sean smiled at him innocently. “Yeah, you only called him a bozo twice today.”
“ . . . That’s still nicer.”
“Maybe he just holds a grudge,” Sean suggested.
He’d lost interest in this, but Alex certainly hadn’t. Maybe Hank was hiding something from him, something scandalous, like the details of his secret hipster fetish. It made Alex even angrier when, after some semi-guilty e-stalking, he saw that Hank was friends with everybody else in the mansion, even Angel, who Alex knew made Hank kind of uncomfortable, having what Hank referred to as a “history”.
Did Hank seriously hate him that much? Alex had kind of been joking, mostly, some of the time. What was the deal?
Alex wondered, as he logged on and typed in Hank’s name, if maybe he was getting a little obsessive. Cyber-stalking was bad. Charles had had a whole discussion with them about this. But Hank’s page never showed anything anyway, everything was hidden but his name and -
“Whoa,” Alex said under his breath as the page finished loading. “Where did that come from?”
Hank, it seemed, had put up a new profile picture. This one, though, was monumentally different from the old one. There were superficial differences - the lighting was better, Hank was smiling and looking slightly off-camera, but the big differences were
a) his glasses were off, and
b) he oozed confidence.
Alex had literally never, not once, seen Hank look like he’d just swaggered somewhere. This, though, was a post-swagger face. Smiling wasn’t even the right word; he was smirking, like he’d just heard a dirty joke and found it funny but a little beneath him. Plus, his eyes. Were. Huge. Huuuuge.
It was amazing. It was hypnotic. This was a guy Alex would follow off the edge of a cliff on charm alone. How the hell had he done it?
Without really thinking about what he was doing, he sent another friend request, along with the message, “Nice pic.”
It took about ten minutes to get a response, during which time Alex bit his nails. When the little red box popped up, he sat up straighter.
Ha ha, very funny. I’m not friending you.
Alex wilted.
I was being serious! he typed grumpily. It’s a good picture.
There was a long pause.
Really?
Alex sighed.
Yes, idiot. You look good.
That was kind of . . . eesh. That wasn’t the kind of thing Alex said, typically. He didn’t want to start. Just because it was a great fucking picture . . .
Another little red box popped up in the corner of the screen. Alex read it and grinned.
Hank M wants to be your friend.
“Motherfucking accept,” Alex said to himself, clicking, and closed his laptop. He stretched his arms over his head, arching his back.
For the moment, he was content.
--
It didn’t last, though, because Sean existed.
“Shit on a priest, did you see Hank’s profile picture?” he whispered to Alex over mashed potatoes that night. “He looks edible.”
Alex choked on a piece of skin, drawing everyone’s attention to their end of the table. “I’m - okay - “ he wheezed, covering his mouth and hacking until tears came to his eyes.
Gradually, everyone looked away, leaving Alex to gasp and glare at Sean, who was waiting patiently for a response. “What the hell kind of thing is that to say about your friend?” he snarled under his breath. “That’s - that’s objectifying!”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, “you thought it, too,” and poured some more gravy onto his potatoes.
Suddenly Alex isn’t very hungry anymore.
Because, well, he kind of had thought about it. Not in those words, because ew, Sean, ew, but . . . Hank looked good in that picture. Nerd hot.
Oh god, Alex thought, I’m gay for nerds.
--
Hank M enjoyed the chicken and potatoes tonight, as well as the show.
→ Alex Didyourmom Summers Get a job and stop being a douchebag.
→ Hank M I was only observing. Also, I have a job. You’re the one who doesn’t.
→ Sean Cassidy It’s so cute when you two fight.
→ Sean Cassidy Also, Alex, you’re a much bigger douchebag than Hank.
→ Alex Didyourmom Summers fuckyougetoutsean
→ Charles ‘Professor’ Xavier I have to concur with Sean, actually, although this language is not exactly appropriate.
→ Alex Didyourmom Summers Dude, you are TOO OLD for Facebook.
→ Charles ‘Professor’ Xavier . . . :(
--
Alex’s decision to take a new profile picture had nothing to do with the fact that Hank’s was so distractingly awesome and everything to do with the fact that his was three whole weeks old. He decided to dress a little sharp - light purple blazer under a dark blue suit coat with matching pants - and not tell Sean even the slightest detail of what he was doing, because he would just never hear the end of it.
He was pretty good at lighting and angles, actually, and he knew how to set the timer on his digital camera, so he was set. However, he’d forgotten how long the timer was supposed to last, so he was in the middle of licking his lips nervously when the flash went off.
“Shit,” he muttered, going over to check the outcome. Peering into the camera, he saw . . .
“Whoa.”
It was . . . well, it wasn’t sexual, exactly, but it could be interpreted that way. He’d never seen his mouth quite that red before.
I wonder if Hank will like it.
Shaking his head, he frowned and uploaded it before he could change his mind.
--
He got an IM from Hank almost right away. As he opened it, he expected shock, disgust, even a little bit of titillation, but all he got was amusement.
Hank M Is this a competition?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Huh?
Hank M Oh, come on, you know what I’m talking about. The picture. The one where you’re pretending to be sensual.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Pretending? I’m hurt!
Hank M Then you did do it on purpose.
Alex Didyourmom Summers I honestly didn’t. But I’m glad it did something for you. ;)
For a second Alex just stared in horror at the screen. He couldn’t take it back! There was no Control+Z for his life! Hank would hate him forever! Which, you know, he shouldn’t have been super worried about, but it would be awkward.
Hank M Only a little something.
Alex’s mouth fell open.
This wasn’t happening. No way. He was not flirting with Hank fucking McCoy on Facebook chat. His life could not be this bizarre.
Hank M Alex? You still there?
He had to say something or Hank would get offended . . . oh god, how to diffuse this situation . . .
Alex Didyourmom Summers You should change yours, too. You need a fresh look.
Hank M I could do that. Do you have anything in mind?
Alex Didyourmom Summers I have a Rolling Stones shirt you can borrow. You’d look good in it.
Don’t tell him he can borrow your shirt! Don’t tell him he’d look good in it! Alex screamed at himself. Trying for self-preservation, he added,
Alex Didyourmom Summers I mean, it’s a really comfortable shirt.
Hank M Right.
Hank M Well, lend it to me in the morning. I’m going to bed. Night.
There was a pause, and then:
Hank M ;)
Alex stared at the screen in disbelief. A few seconds later, a notification came up.
Hank M likes your new profile picture.
He went to bed in despair.
--
The next morning, as he was toweling his hair dry after his shower, he remembered the conversation and the whole shirt issue. He groaned to himself. It would be so weird to have Hank wearing his shirt around, like they were sleeping together or something. Maybe he’d just wear it to take the picture.
Slipping on a plain white tee, he pulled his Forty Licks shirt from the drawer and stepped out into the hall. Hank’s room was in a different wing, so he had an uncomfortably long time to think about the situation.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this jittery around someone, but it had definitely been a girl. Alex could hope that his body was just confused because of Hank’s girl-mouth and weird flirting, but he didn’t really buy it. He was genuinely attracted to Hank McCoy, the geek with the weird feet.
Now that he thought about it - fuck, he had been pulling pigtails this whole time, hadn’t he? What a fucking cliché. There’d been a couple nights when he hadn’t quite thought of Hank as he touched himself, but rather parts of Hank: his eyes, his jaw, his shoulders, his crazy girl-mouth around his -
Chill, he instructed himself as he got closer to Hank’s door. Swallowing, ridiculously nervous, he knocked, then leaned in a hopefully nonchalant way against the doorframe.
After a moment, the door opened and Hank stepped out. His hair was rumpled, he was only wearing boxers, and Alex found his eyes glued to the pale expanse of surprisingly trim chest. Hank must have worked out extra in secret or something. Or just naturally be in amazing shape. Alex thought maybe he was salivating.
“Did I oversleep? Is it time for breakfast already?” Hank mumbled, yawning, then blinked at Alex. “What’s up?” he asked curiously.
Alex looked up into the bluest eyes in the entire universe and died a little. “Um, I brought you the shirt,” he managed and held it out gracelessly.
Pulling it gently from his grasp, Hank grinned a little. “Forty Licks,” he said, “classic. Thanks,” he added, looking up and snaring Alex with those eyes again.
“No problem,” Alex croaked. He just could not deal with this. “See you at breakfast.” He got the hell out of there, trying not to think about Hank maybe reaching out for him and pulling them back into the room, arms wrapped around his waist.
--
There was an IM waiting for him when he got online to check his email after breakfast.
Sean Cassidy Dude. Dude. Why was Hank wearing your shirt at breakfast?!
Alex Didyourmom Summers He wasn’t. I guess he has his own Forty Licks shirt. Looks good on him.
Sean Cassidy Don’t pull that, it has the little stain on the collar from where you spilled coffee. But it does look good on him, which begs the question, does it look better off him?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Come on, Sean. Disrespectful much?
Sean Cassidy Whatever. I just thought you’d be a little more forthcoming when you figured it out.
Alex Didyourmom Summers . . . ?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Figured what out?
Sean Cassidy You’re a big gaybo.
Sean Cassidy has signed off.
--
Alex signed off in despair, did a little homework, thought a little about maybe he’s gay? maybe he’s not? and decided it’s not worth the energy, what will be will be, blah et cetera. He had to go to training in a few minutes, but he decided to check Facebook really quickly, just in case . . . something. Just in case of something.
Hank M changed his profile picture.
Suddenly Alex’s heart was racing, because in the tiny preview picture he could see Hank’s wearing his shirt and tight blue jeans and something in him revved up as he clicked the picture and -
His heart fucking stopped.
Because this was clearly a dare, a challenge, Hank leaning against the wall of his room with one hip cocked, looking off to one side, and licking his lip. Not even licking - teasing. Like he was about to kiss the daylights out of somebody.
For god’s sake, Alex thought in a daze, let it be me.
He stared down at Hank’s shoulders, his arms, god, his arms, and then back up at his mouth. His tongue was so - and his lips - god, if that stupid boy just kissed him Alex thought he might die happy, no more of this flirting online and awkward in person bullshit, just - a deep hot kiss, that wet tongue sliding its way between his lips.
His computer pinged. Alex started as he realized he was half-hard and reaching for his fly. Looking at the sender of the message, Alex groaned. It was Hank.
Hank M Do you like it?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Yeah.
Hank M Just yeah?
Alex Didyourmom Summers Yeah, it looks good. You look confident.
Hank M Confident is good. I was going for something kind of different.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Like . . . ?
Hank M Never mind. I’ll keep trying.
Hank M Your shirt smells good, by the way. I like the detergent you use.
Alex Didyourmom Summers I use what we all use, man.
Hank M Oh. Then I guess it must just be you.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Oh.
Alex Didyourmom Summers Gotta go, homework.
Hank M Okay. Later.
Alex skipped training entirely. It was worth it. He lay in bed and touched himself, slow and shaking, thinking nothing but Hank, Hank, Hank.
--
Sean cornered him before breakfast the next morning and, as usual, didn’t waste any time. “He’s flirting with you,” he said, “so you should fuck him. Soon, preferably.”
“Sean,” Alex told him, trying desperately to hold onto his patience, “it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“It is,” Sean argued, “and I’ll tell you why.” He began to count on his fingers. “For one: I’m your friend, and this is me helping you. For two: I heard you shouting his name all last night and it kept me from getting to sleep. And three: If you don’t do something about that mouth, mate, I will.”
Alex slammed him up against the wall, rage swallowing every sensible sentiment in his body. He held Sean up by the collar, shaking him slightly. “Don’t you dare,” he breathed. “Don’t you dare go near him.”
Sean, to his credit, didn’t look afraid. After a moment, though, he did look up and wave his fingers. “Hi, Hank,” he croaked.
Whirling around and letting Sean drop to the floor, Alex saw, with a nauseating mixture of lust and horror, that Hank was standing right behind him, looking at the two of them quizzically. He’d left his glasses somewhere, goddamn it.
“You okay?” Hank was asking Sean, who shrugged noncommittally. Then Hank looked at Alex.
Maybe it was Alex’s imagination, or blind hope, but he thought maybe something was beckoning him from somewhere inside Hank’s neutral stare.
“Can I talk to you?” fell out of Alex’s mouth.
Hank nodded. “I was just about to suggest that. Let’s go to my room.”
--
“I gotta know,” Alex asked as they walked. “Did Sean set that up?”
Hank snorted. “I think so,” he said. “He told me to meet him in the hall after breakfast, and he was obviously trying to rile you up, so . . . “
“I don’t really get what he thought that was going to prove.”
“I think the idea was to let me see you fighting for me,” Hank said, looking down and away.
Alex sighed. “You heard that, huh?” Awkward. Super awkward. Flirting aside, Hank wasn’t gay. He had that whole thing for Raven that he never let go of.
Scratching the side of his nose, Hank shrugged tightly. “I mean, it worked.”
Alex stared straight ahead. “Meaning . . . “
“Well, I know it’s completely gross that you’re weird-possessive over me like that, but it’s pretty hot.”
“What?” Alex grabbed Hank by the shirtsleeve, dragging him to a stop. “No way, explain that to me. Is it gross or hot?”
Hank rolled his eyes and blushed. “It’s just . . . it’s cute. That you get so worked up about me.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. He could feel himself kind of smiling. “How worked up do you wanna see me?”
“I want to kiss you,” Hank told him matter-of-factly, locking eyes with him again.
Goddamn those eyes. Alex was paralyzed. “You . . . uh . . . “
“Want to kiss you,” Hank repeated patiently. “I kind of figured you wanted to kiss me too.”
“I, um.” Alex’s brain was sending him mixed signals. It was all very well and good to be gay in theory, but something about the practice of it still wigged him out. On the other hand, Hank was . . . was just, in general, so attractive. And actually nice, in an infuriatingly smart way, and -
Licking his lips nervously. Oh god.
Alex’s mouth fell open slightly and he breathed in, deep and fast. “Uh, yeah, I definitely do,” he managed. “And by the way, that’s a great trick for distracting anybody with eyes.”
Hank stopped, lips wet, tongue at the corner of his mouth. “What is?”
“Just - “ Alex swallowed again. “Your mouth. In general.”
They were at Hank’s door now. Hank leaned against it awkwardly, smiling a little. At Alex. “Yeah?” he said, looking at him from under his lashes.
“Yeah.” Alex cleared his throat, folding his arms. “Um. Are we still gonna make with the kissing? Because - “
And suddenly Hank surged forward, grabbed Alex by the chin, and pulled him forward into a hot, awkward, wet kiss. His lips were closed in what might have been an attempt at a chaste peck, but it didn’t work with Hank’s lips; Alex panted, open-mouthed, against him, and gave quick licks to the corners of his mouth. Soon enough Hank was pressed up against the door, whimpering, eyes half-lidded and lips slipping slowly open. Alex could feel his breath on his mouth; his hands slipped under that goddamn Forty Licks shirt, sliding up -
“Ahem.”
Alex whipped around, pressing his back against Hank in some vain attempt to hide him. It was, of course, Charles, the only person in the mansion who could clear his throat in a way that made you feel simultaneously guilty and stupid. His arms were crossed, his fingers tapping at his elbows, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Not that I’m not . . . pleased,” he said, inclining his head, “but we do have lessons to be getting to. Don’t we?”
“Of course!” Alex squeaked. “We sure do! Right, Hank?”
Hank was beet-red and clearly incapable of speech. Alex reached up, grabbed his jaw, and nodded his head for him. “Yes, professor!” he said, in his best Hank impersonation. “Right away, professor!”
Pressing a hand to his mouth, Charles shook his head, turned, and walked away. Alex sighed and was about to give Hank a little space when strong arms curled around his waist.
“Wait,” Hank pleaded, “just a second.”
Craning his neck to look up at him, Alex smiled. Hank’s blush was fading, but he still looked very much affected by what they’d been doing before Charles interrupted. He was biting his lips and looking down at Alex.
“We can . . . do this again,” he said, “right? Like, tonight?”
“Oh my god.” Alex leaned up and pressed his lips to Hank’s, tongue teasing between his lips. “You have to ask?”
“ . . . I guess not,” Hank murmured. He was grinning a little. Alex wanted to fuck him right now, but that would be moving kind of fast, so he kissed him again, going for wicked this time. He left Hank breathless.
He wanted to do that forever, now.
--
He could feel Hank staring at him during training. He couldn’t help staring back when he thought Charles wasn’t looking, taking in the sweat stains on Hank’s back, imagining the length of his legs under his suit. He managed to steal Hank away for a couple of minutes, during which Sean created a (maybe purposeful) diversion. Alex pressed him up against a tree and absolutely mauled his mouth, delighted to feel him harden through that skintight fucking suit, to feel him pant into his hair as Alex bit his neck. “Not so hard, not so hard,” Hank whined, so Alex only left a little hickey, and he didn’t think anybody noticed (except maybe Sean).
What with that and the constant brushing against each other in the hall, Alex was more than a little wired by the time he knocked on Hank’s door that night. He felt awkward, like he should have brought flowers or something, but he knew Hank would have laughed at him.
Bouncing from foot to foot, he looked up when he heard the knob turning. Hank poked his head out, then opened the door wide when he saw it was Alex. His grin was so wide it looked like it hurt.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, like a purr. “Wanna, um, come in?”
He stepped out of the way to let Alex through; Alex ducked under his arm, tucked his fingers into Hank’s belt loop, and dragged him in with him, pushing him against the door to close it.
“Hey,” he said. “Have I mentioned how amazingly hot it is that you’re still wearing my shirt?”
“U-um, no,” Hank stammered. “But it’s probably about equal to you kissing me against every available surface.”
“You talk too much,” Alex said, cocking his head and looking up at him. “You should put your tongue in my mouth instead.”
“Ummmmm.” There was a thump as Hank’s head falls back against the door. “Wow, Alex.”
“What?” Alex smirked. “Too much for you?”
“No, just - um.” He swallowed. “I just, I really, really want to do more than that.”
“Moving a little fast, there,” Alex said, “maybe you should - “
But Hank’s mouth was on his, hot like a brand, and Alex stopped thinking. It was slow, so achingly slow at first, tiny dry kisses despite Alex’s tiny moans and the press of their hips together. But as they stumbled towards the bed (unconsciously, maybe inevitably), Hank got more demanding, biting at Alex’s bottom lip and sucking until it was red and swollen, pulling him in close.
Alex could feel Hank’s fingers shaking as he slid his fingers down Alex’s back to cup his ass. Moaning into his mouth, Alex pressed himself closer to Hank, hand creeping up to stroke the back of Hank’s neck. “Little handsy?” he murmured; Hank growled and squeezed in response, making Alex cry out and cling to him.
He slipped a hand between them, slid his fingers under Hank’s shirt, running his nails over Hank’s abs and shivering. He wanted to bite them. He wanted to bite Hank all over. He wanted to make him scream. God, he was going to die, because the list of things he wanted was so fucking long.
And then there was a knock at the door and Sean’s voice - never more obnoxious - asking, “Hank? You in there? I’m looking for Alex.”
“Shit!”
They scrambled apart, both breathing heavily; Hank’s hair was mussed and Alex’s lip was swollen. Alex was the first to laugh.
“Fuck, we look awful,” he said. “I’ll go take care of him.” After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed a stray bit of Hank’s hair behind his ear. “I’ll come by before breakfast tomorrow,” he added, leaning up for another kiss.
“Okay,” Hank said, looking forlorn and abandoned. “In the morning.”
--
“You are such a fucking cockblock, you enormous douche,” Alex complained the second he got out the door. “I should’ve actually beaten you up this morning.”
“Dude, you look a mess,” Sean said conversationally as they began to walk. “Like you’ve been mauled.”
“Maybe I have,” Alex snarled, “or maybe I was about to be, and then you - “
“Sorry! Sorry!” Sean put his hands up in front of himself defensively. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I know you didn’t get it, why I said that about Hank.”
Sighing, Alex shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I mean, you meant well, so it’s whatever,” he said. “Just . . . don’t say shit like that about him.”
“So it’s serious?”
Alex looked over at Sean. He was staring straight ahead as he walked, but the edge of his mouth twitched.
“I don’t know,” Alex said, stopping at his door. “Maybe.”
“I’m just glad you’re not mooning anymore.” Sean grinned, slapping him on the back.
“I never mooned!”
“Whatever you say, friend.” With a lazy salute, Sean turned and stepped into his room across the hall, leaving Alex to wonder how tremendously gross he’d been about Hank, and for how long.
--
Alex had trouble sleeping that night. He kept thinking about Hank and getting worked up about the next day. The whole having-gay-sex deal still freaked him out, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine that the two of them would be able to keep going without doing something that resulted in amazing orgasms.
He woke in the morning, bleary-eyed, and thought first of Hank. He stumbled into the shower, let the water fall hot over his body.
He was going to see Hank in maybe ten minutes. His body wouldn’t let him forget that, surging forward against his hands as he lathered soap across his belly, and his mind wouldn’t stop going once it started, remembering the tightness of Hank’s chest and how firm he felt against him.
There was no point resisting, not this early in the morning. Alex cupped at himself, squeezed, and tilted his head back into the spray, breathing in steam. He thought how different Hank’s hand would feel: longer fingers, tighter grip, a little rougher, more desperate and eager to learn what spots would make Alex twist.
He came over his fist, stumbled back against the cool tile of the wall, and smiled. It felt . . . good, thinking about Hank like that. He’d thought it would be weird, but it felt normal as anything.
Alex toweled off and got dressed quickly, relaxed and awake now, and walked quickly to Hank’s room. The door opened immediately at his knock, and Hank was standing there with a grin, still in his tight cotton sleep shirt and boxers.
“Hi,” he said, “come on in.”
Alex slipped past him, brushing his shoulder against Hank’s on the way. He felt Hank watching his ass and the movement of his legs and smirked to himself, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You look good,” Hank said, scratching his neck. “I mean, relaxed.”
“I am,” Alex told him, falling back onto the bed. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
“Thinking of me as in, as in . . . “ Hank swallowed. “As in thinking, or thinking?”
Alex laughed. “The second kind, I guess. In the shower.”
Hank swallowed and sat down next to him. Alex looked up. “Me too,” Hank said, “except not, um, in the shower.”
Alex didn’t respond, his eyes falling half-shut. Well. That was a mental picture.
Hank, of course, had started babbling in the silence.
“I just, you got me really worked up, and, um, that’s not weird, right?”
“I did it too,” Alex responded patiently, letting his hand rest on Hank’s leg.
“Yeah,” Hank breathed, “you did,” and his pupils were wide; Alex could feel his skin hot under the thin cotton of his boxers.
“You don’t have to ask to kiss me anymore, you know,” Alex ventured, and Hank rolled onto Alex, crouched over him, and pressed his full weight onto Alex’s hips. Leaning down, he kissed Alex ravenously, open-mouthed, biting at his lips and then his jaw, sucking his earlobe into his mouth. Alex arched and hissed at that, hips pressing up into Hank’s groin. “Oh god,” he managed to get out before Hank’s fingers pressed over his lips.
Hank bit at his neck, sucked, and Alex couldn’t take not doing anything anymore: he slid his hands up the front of Hank’s shirt and tweaked at his nipples, one after the other, sucking Hank’s fingers into his mouth and running his teeth over the ridges of his fingerprints. Hank moaned, head falling to rest in the crook of Alex’s neck. There was a gasp, then a quiet snuffling noise.
“Are you . . . are you smelling me?” Alex managed to gasp out.
“Shut up,” Hank hissed, biting down hard on his shoulder through his shirt. He seemed to be losing control just a little. He was muttering things like “ready” and “fuck”, which made Alex squirm and harden. When Hank pulled back, his glasses were askew, his lips were flushed and open, and his hair was in his eyes. Alex wanted to push it back, kiss every inch of him until he screamed and let everything go.
“Hank?” Alex said, scratching his fingernails down Hank’s erect nipples. “You okay?”
”Wannafuck,” Hank muttered into Alex’s neck, biting at the space between neck and shoulder and sucking.
With a gasp, Alex wrapped one leg around Hank’s waist. “Wh-what?” he stammered, unsure if he’d heard right.
“I want to fuck you,” Hank repeated, like he’d been practicing for this moment.
Alex’s balls drew up and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh god, man, I don’t - I don’t know if I’d last through that, can we - can I just touch you?” After a moment of no words and heavy breathing, he let out a desperate, “Please?”
“Yes,” Hank grunted, and he pulled Alex all the way up on the bed and pressed their hips together, making Alex arch and moan.
Fumbling, hungry, and heedless now of time, breakfast, training, anything but this this this, Alex reached down under the waistband of Hank’s boxers. He was astonished at the heat, the size of him, but swallowed and wrapped his fingers around Hank, stroking slowly and without finesse.
Hank didn’t seem to care that it was inelegant, tilting his head back and whining deep in his throat. “Alex . . . “ trickled out, choking Alex and making him thrust his hips up, dying for friction. Undoing his pants with one hand, he pushed them down slightly and pulled his cock out, over the discomfort and insecurity, pressing messily against Hank in this moment of pure fucking want.
He tried to get them both in his hand but he couldn’t quite manage to coordinate himself well enough, so he stroked Hank slowly - “Faster, Alex, damn!” - and rutted against him, eyes wide open and staring at Hank. He wanted to see every expression, every second of Hank’s coming apart.
Hank got red fast, his fingers digging into the bedspread. His hips pumped slow and a little uneven into Alex’s hand; his lips were bitten and chapped, his hair sweaty and mussed. Alex couldn’t believe how wrecked he looked, how destroyed.
“God, you’re fuckin’ - so hot,” he managed, and Hank just grunted at him, fucking his hand faster, lips pressing tight together as he came, all over Alex’s stomach and his clean shirt, but fuck it, fuck that shit, Hank was softening against his dick as he arched up one last time against Hank’s perfect hips and just. Let. Go.
For a long couple minutes they couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t manage to move; Hank collapsed on Alex with an “oof” and flopped onto the bed beside him. After a while, though, Hank curled up slightly, fingers resting on Alex’s come-stained t-shirt.
“Best. Orgasm. Ever,” Alex said.
Hank nodded silently, looking at him with warmth in his eyes. “I still want to kiss you,” he added after a minute.
Stomach stuttering, Alex nodded. “Kiss me,” he said, and laughed a little into Hank’s mouth.
--
One week later.
Sean logged on to Facebook, did a double take, and smiled. He was, despite everything, a bit proud of himself.
“It’s about time,” he said, and hit “Like.”
Hank M is in a relationship with Alex Didyourmom Summers.