take me to the riot (1/?)
Take me to the riot (1/?)
Alex/Hank
Written for this prompt at xmen_firstkink. More Tony Stonem, less Hank. Or, Hank seducing everyone.
"How about Bigfoot?"
Darwin and Sean go quiet, Angel just settles back into the couch with a raised eyebrow. Raven looks at him sharply, blonde hair shifting on her shoulders as she opens her mouth in retort. Alex likes her a little more for that, and because she reminds him of a grown-up female version of Scott, all snark and flashing eyes.
"Well," Hank blinks up at him through dark lashes, tongue a quick slip of pink against his bottom lip.
Boys with lab coats and Coke bottles hadn't done that in high school. And now the fucker is actually smiling at him around the rim of his beer bottle. "You know what they say about guys with big feet."
Angel is the first to snap the taut silence. "Well played, sir." Hank turns to smile at her instead, bowing his head in mock salute. "For that, you deserve another drink." Raven throws back her head in delight and laughter, leaning into Hank's arm stretched out on the back of the loveseat.
Alex can feel the other two looking at him, so he does the universal guy code of apology thing: shrugs and grins, tilts his head in acknowledgment and reaches forward for his drink. "Touché."
The night kind of goes to shit after that, because Shaw and Angel and Darwin. He goes to bed that night in the makeshift rooms that they set up in the remains of the headquarters and dreams about the backs of Angel's thighs when she walked towards Shaw, the way Armando turned towards the rest of them with an outstretched glowing hand before he crumpled into ash.
Alex wakes with a start, still mentally falling into his bed from the kick. Heart pounding in his ears, he rubs away the last images sparking against the back of his eyelids and slowly rolls away from the wall.
As a soothing balm to his dream, the universe decides he should get an eyeful of Hank and Raven fucking on Raven's cot. Or, more accurately: Hank with his back against the wall, long legs splayed indecently while Raven rocks slowly between them, arms around his neck.
For a moment Alex kind of hates Raven for insisting on the room with the cracked window, next to a streetlight. And then he's thankful because what a shit show it would have been if he had got up to pee in the middle of the night, in the middle of that.
Holding his breath, he rolls over again, very slowly and very quietly. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Also, he still needs to be able to talk to Charles in the morning.
Then, there's a thump against his wall which almost makes Alex jump up and ruin all his good intentions. What he hears next - soft laughter, Erik's baritone and breathy tenor fucks - manages to do just that. He's so busy dying of secondhand embarrassment that he almost misses it when Hank's breath catches and Raven makes a soft sound.
The important thing is, he doesn't. And it's with a morbid curiosity that he listens to the soft slick when she slides off, the wet slide of a kiss, Hank's soft footsteps back to the boys' side of the room (the boys' side, how will he ever make eye contact with Charles again without turning scarlet - does he think he and Erik are the only ones or does he just think a few feet of empty space will keep his sister's virtue safe?)
Alex squares his shoulders to the wall and closes his eyes, resolutely not thinking about anything but sheep.
He's halfway asleep when there's a brush against the back of his neck, and his senses jolt back to full awareness. Thankfully, his body is a few seconds behind and doesn't react when his blanket is drawn up to his chin. After a moment, he can smell sweat and sex on the hand hovering above his shoulder.
Boys with lab coats and Coke bottle glasses do not flirt with their pretty red mouths, or have sex with the sister of their de facto leader - in a room where their two friends are sleeping - and then tuck people into bed.
Apparently, this one does.
The real McCoy, his brain supplies.
Shut up, he thinks savagely, and imagines his flock of sheep stampeding the voice.
This series is still a WIP. Feel free to comment or make suggestions!
Alex/Hank
Written for this prompt at xmen_firstkink. More Tony Stonem, less Hank. Or, Hank seducing everyone.
"How about Bigfoot?"
Darwin and Sean go quiet, Angel just settles back into the couch with a raised eyebrow. Raven looks at him sharply, blonde hair shifting on her shoulders as she opens her mouth in retort. Alex likes her a little more for that, and because she reminds him of a grown-up female version of Scott, all snark and flashing eyes.
"Well," Hank blinks up at him through dark lashes, tongue a quick slip of pink against his bottom lip.
Boys with lab coats and Coke bottles hadn't done that in high school. And now the fucker is actually smiling at him around the rim of his beer bottle. "You know what they say about guys with big feet."
Angel is the first to snap the taut silence. "Well played, sir." Hank turns to smile at her instead, bowing his head in mock salute. "For that, you deserve another drink." Raven throws back her head in delight and laughter, leaning into Hank's arm stretched out on the back of the loveseat.
Alex can feel the other two looking at him, so he does the universal guy code of apology thing: shrugs and grins, tilts his head in acknowledgment and reaches forward for his drink. "Touché."
The night kind of goes to shit after that, because Shaw and Angel and Darwin. He goes to bed that night in the makeshift rooms that they set up in the remains of the headquarters and dreams about the backs of Angel's thighs when she walked towards Shaw, the way Armando turned towards the rest of them with an outstretched glowing hand before he crumpled into ash.
Alex wakes with a start, still mentally falling into his bed from the kick. Heart pounding in his ears, he rubs away the last images sparking against the back of his eyelids and slowly rolls away from the wall.
As a soothing balm to his dream, the universe decides he should get an eyeful of Hank and Raven fucking on Raven's cot. Or, more accurately: Hank with his back against the wall, long legs splayed indecently while Raven rocks slowly between them, arms around his neck.
For a moment Alex kind of hates Raven for insisting on the room with the cracked window, next to a streetlight. And then he's thankful because what a shit show it would have been if he had got up to pee in the middle of the night, in the middle of that.
Holding his breath, he rolls over again, very slowly and very quietly. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Also, he still needs to be able to talk to Charles in the morning.
Then, there's a thump against his wall which almost makes Alex jump up and ruin all his good intentions. What he hears next - soft laughter, Erik's baritone and breathy tenor fucks - manages to do just that. He's so busy dying of secondhand embarrassment that he almost misses it when Hank's breath catches and Raven makes a soft sound.
The important thing is, he doesn't. And it's with a morbid curiosity that he listens to the soft slick when she slides off, the wet slide of a kiss, Hank's soft footsteps back to the boys' side of the room (the boys' side, how will he ever make eye contact with Charles again without turning scarlet - does he think he and Erik are the only ones or does he just think a few feet of empty space will keep his sister's virtue safe?)
Alex squares his shoulders to the wall and closes his eyes, resolutely not thinking about anything but sheep.
He's halfway asleep when there's a brush against the back of his neck, and his senses jolt back to full awareness. Thankfully, his body is a few seconds behind and doesn't react when his blanket is drawn up to his chin. After a moment, he can smell sweat and sex on the hand hovering above his shoulder.
Boys with lab coats and Coke bottle glasses do not flirt with their pretty red mouths, or have sex with the sister of their de facto leader - in a room where their two friends are sleeping - and then tuck people into bed.
Apparently, this one does.
The real McCoy, his brain supplies.
Shut up, he thinks savagely, and imagines his flock of sheep stampeding the voice.
This series is still a WIP. Feel free to comment or make suggestions!