Fic | WHEREIN ANEURYSMS ARE A SERIOUS CONCERN
Title: WHEREIN ANEURYSMS ARE A SERIOUS CONCERN
Author: attilatehbun
Fandom: Young Avengers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Billy Kaplan/Teddy Altman
Word Count: 2100+
Summary Billy has certain bad habits.
Contains: OH GOD LOTS OF PORN
A/N: ...This is over two thousand words of PWP. There is no plot to be found here. THIS IS HOW I SPENT MY DAY. I hope other people are happy because quite frankly I am rather ashamed of myself. Oy.
::
Billy was not - unfortunately - in the habit of knocking. He was generally of the opinion that if his younger brothers, in their never-ending pursuit of the perfect means of annoyance, couldn’t respect his privacy, well then, he wasn’t going to bother extending them the same courtesy. Which worked fine and all, except for how the habit sort of...spread to the rest of his life. (The whole ‘learning to teleport’ thing just enabled it even more.)
So when he showed up at the warehouse looking for Teddy and didn’t find him embedded in the couch the way he tended to get after a few too many sessions of Left 4 Dead, he didn’t think twice about just walking through to Teddy’s room, fumbling through his bag for the comics he’d just bought as he did. (Billy also had something of a problem with looking where he was going, and usually the results were painful. And hilarious, to Tommy.)
These results, well, these results weren’t hilarious, and they were only really painful in the way that all the blood rushing suddenly away from one’s head is painful.
The first thing Billy noticed were the sounds. There was kind of a slick noise, almost rhythmic, and it was underscored by what was almost certainly ragged breathing. There was a gasp that might generously be called a moan.
Billy looked up.
- Now, it’s not like they hadn’t done plenty of stuff. They were hormonal teenage boys-- moreover, hormonal teenage boys who lived kind of dangerous lives that led directly to huge surges in adrenaline and huge surges of relief when certain people made it back to base in one piece. Billy was familiarly comfortable by now with a lot: the weight of Teddy’s cock in his hand or the way Teddy’s belly tasted salty with sweat after awhile and how the muscles there jumped when Billy sucked on his navel or That Thing Teddy did, that trick of the tongue that only a shapeshifter could manage. So, Billy knew all of this (and if it still got Billy’s blood rushing too fast, that was sort of to be expected because, well, Teddy). But there were other things, things Billy didn’t really let himself think about yet for fear of an over-chafed dick, or possibly some kind of sex-based aneurysm.
(Aneurysms don't work like that, the rational part of Billy’s brain tended to pipe up. But Billy, along with knocking and looking where he was going? Was also not so great at always listening to the rational part of his brain.)
So Billy was sort of unprepared when he looked up from his bag. -
Teddy was kneeling on his bed, knees bent apart and toes hooked into the sheets. He was wearing a tshirt, but it was rumpled and ruched up in a way that generally suggested to the eye that no, actually, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. Adding to that was the fact that his boxers were around his ankles, so the line of his body was all torsoskinhipskinlongleanthigh. He had reached one hand between his legs, and it was. His hand. His fingers, they were. They--
Billy’s fingers went nerveless, and he had just enough time to think, Sex-based aneurysm, incoming, before Teddy turned and saw him.
“Oh s-shit, Billy,” he said, flushing impossibly redder than he had been. He scrabbled at the sheets, clearly trying to bunch up enough time with them to regain his composure. “I--I--” he stammered, and Billy noted in a sort of detached way that Teddy’s fingers where he grabbed at the covers were still kind of slick and wet.
Billy tried to speak, but his mouth was far far too dry to let him.
“It was-- I was just--” Teddy tried again, embarrassed and trying to find a way to talk around the fact that Billy had just caught him fucking himself with his fingers, and Billy could see how hard his cock still was, even through the sheets, and the comics and soda that Billy had brought to help them spend the afternoon suddenly seemed monumentally unimportant, because Teddy was really really adorable when he stuttered like that and also, Billy had just walked in on his boyfriend fucking himself with his fingers and Billy really needed to help with that.
Needed.
Immediately.
“You were--” he said, because apparently his brain would only let him speak to (badly) state the obvious. He swallowed as he crossed to the bed.
“I just-- It--” Teddy started.
“Was really really hot,” Billy finished and did the only thing left for him to do.
When he finally broke away from kissing Teddy, Billy became distantly aware that they were both now panting rather heavily and he was apparently straddling Teddy’s knees. It felt like one of Teddy’s hands was under his shirt, but it was getting a bit lost in the complete mental overload he was having. “Shit” he muttered, and kissed Teddy again, kissed his lips, his jaw, his neck, because he absolutely had to and also to give himself a minute to sort things out.
“I really want to-- Would it be alright if I-- Can I just--” he said against the skin of Teddy’s neck, against the groan in Teddy’s chest, against the beating of his own heart.
“Fuck yes,” Teddy said immediately, and pushed at the sheets. “Please.”
Billy scrambled awkwardly down the bed - because, motor control, what motor control, haha? - until he was kneeling between Teddy’s thighs. Teddy’s cock was flushed and heavy where it lay against his belly, and wet at the tip, and it took every ounce of self control Billy had not to just lean down and take it into his mouth as he had so many times before. He bit gently at the jut of Teddy’s hip instead. He knew what to do, it’s not like he didn’t know anyone with five minutes and a computer could know, but right now. Right now he needed to see, see up close what he had only gotten the barest glimpse of when he came into the room.
“Show me,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Teddy said, chest heaving, “yeah, okay.”
The was the click of a cap, and Billy looked up Teddy’s body to see him spreading more lube over his fingers. Fuck, even that was gorgeous, and Billy’s brain was clearly either already deeply screwed up (probable) or thoroughly scrambled and well on its way to that aneurysm (hopefully not). And then he decided he didn’t really want to deal with that particular issue as there were more pressing concerns at hand. He snatched the tube to spread some over his own fingers, then paused and thought about himself, and thought about his various character peculiarities, and thought about Things That Stain And Need To Be Explained, and sat back on his heels to remove his shirt first.
By the time he was done all that, the flush was back in Teddy’s cheeks and his breath was catching and Billy looked down and oh-oh god that should really not be allowed, for the sake of the sanity of all neurotic, gay superheros ever. Teddy’s fingers were moving so slowly, a slick slow rhythm that bordered on hypnotic, and his hips jerked upward - just a bit, like he couldn’t help it - with every insistent press. Billy scooted down a little more, pulled Teddy’s thigh up over his shoulder, and before he even fully knew what he was doing, had slid a finger in to join Teddy’s two.
“Aaaah, fuck.”
“Is that okay? Was that too much?” Billy looked up to where Teddy was propped up on one elbow, his mouth slightly slack, and jesus he was breathtaking, and Billy was just about the luckiest person in the goddamn universe right now.
“N-no, it’s good,” Teddy said. “Fuck, it’s really good.” Billy grinned at that.
Then Teddy slid his fingers out, which Billy took as an invitation to add more of his own, and when Teddy moaned and his head dropped back Billy thought he might just die.
“Do you,” Billy said finally, around the lump in his throat, “do you do this a lot?”
“Not-not all the time,” Teddy panted, “But sometimes - ah - sometimes I need--”
Billy twisted his hand and Teddy moaned there, and Billy was never going to stop replaying this in his head, not ever.
Billy clutched at Teddy’s hip with his free hand and tried to catch his breath. “Need what, T? Please, need what?”
Teddy bucked, clenched around Billy’s fingers, and Billy’s whole body felt three sizes too small.
“You,” Teddy said, his words stumbling all over each other as they rushed to get out, “you, I want it to be you, I think about that all the time, how badly I want you and, fuck, fuck--”
“Shit, Teddy, shit, shit.” Billy mouthed at the join of Teddy’s hip, lower lip dragging against the skin there. “Oh god.”
“Billy, please-- You have to-- My cock, I’m so close,” Teddy groaned.
“Don’t have to do anything,” Billy said. He wanted the words to be sarcastic, in control, but they came out broken and ragged and he’d barely said them before his mouth was on Teddy’s cock, tongue pressing flat as he slid up.
There was a whuuffff as Teddy’s arm gave out and he fell backwards to the mattress, but all that meant was that his hand was now free to bury itself in Billy’s hair, and Billy kind of loved that a lot, so he was really not going to complain. No, he was just going to take Teddy’s cock deeper into his mouth, and twist his fingers some more because Teddy seemed to like that, and mostly just do his best not to burst.
It didn’t take very long after that. Teddy was probably already pretty worked up before Billy even got there, but Billy was still taken off guard a little by the sudden way Teddy’s body clamped down, the squeeze of his body around Billy’s fingers that made Billy think fuck, if that were my--, before Teddy groaned long and low, and came.
Billy did his best to swallow and slid his fingers out as carefully as he could, kissing Teddy’s stomach when he hissed a little. He tried to readjust himself, but before Billy could do more than let Teddy’s leg down, Teddy had grabbed him by the back of the neck and basically hauled him bodily up the bed into a kiss.
Once again, when they finally broke apart, Billy found himself in a different position than where he started. Now he was cradled between Teddy’s legs, and he could feel Teddy’s chest heaving beneath his own. Teddy’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and his nose and cheeks were still a little flushed, and suddenly every single thing that Billy had not let himself think came rushing into his head all at once because holy shit he had just finger-fucked his boyfriend and that meant all of those things were suddenly possible.
Teddy spread open for him, Teddy on his hands and knees, Teddy saying ‘now, please, now’, Teddy’s whole body rocking as Billy thrust into him, the sweat along Teddy’s spine as his arms gave out and he dropped forward onto his elbows, Teddy asking him to lick lower, no, lower, Teddy’s hand on his own dick as he rode Billy’s
“Oh fuck, Teddy,” he said. He dropped his head to Teddy’s shoulder, dizzy with the realization and the fact that his cock chose that moment to remind him that no, there was no blood in his head because it was all down south and maybe something could be done about that? It would like that very much, or anything that wasn’t just lying around like the aneurysm had finally gotten him because, oh hey, erections trapped in jeans are not actually very fun or comfortable. Billy groaned into Teddy’s neck and bucked down against him before he could stop himself. But Teddy just grinned and kissed him, deep and thorough, as he reached down to unzip Billy’s fly.
“Don’t move,” he breathed into Billy’s ear, then nipped it, and before Billy could tilt his head to kiss him again, Teddy had slid all the way down underneath him until he could push Billy’s boxers down just enough to free his dick.
“What are you d--” Billy tried to say, but then it became abundantly clear what Teddy was doing when Billy’s cock was engulfed in wet heat a second before Teddy did That Thing with his tongue.
After that, Billy doesn’t get out much more than a hrrglnnn or two, possibly with a fuck, T thrown in, at least not for a while. Luckily neither of them particularly minds, nor is it unexpected as, like knocking or listening to his rational brain, coherency is something Billy has never been particularly good at.
Good thing a few bad habits aren’t the end of the world
::fin::
Author: attilatehbun
Fandom: Young Avengers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Billy Kaplan/Teddy Altman
Word Count: 2100+
Summary Billy has certain bad habits.
Contains: OH GOD LOTS OF PORN
A/N: ...This is over two thousand words of PWP. There is no plot to be found here. THIS IS HOW I SPENT MY DAY. I hope other people are happy because quite frankly I am rather ashamed of myself. Oy.
::
Billy was not - unfortunately - in the habit of knocking. He was generally of the opinion that if his younger brothers, in their never-ending pursuit of the perfect means of annoyance, couldn’t respect his privacy, well then, he wasn’t going to bother extending them the same courtesy. Which worked fine and all, except for how the habit sort of...spread to the rest of his life. (The whole ‘learning to teleport’ thing just enabled it even more.)
So when he showed up at the warehouse looking for Teddy and didn’t find him embedded in the couch the way he tended to get after a few too many sessions of Left 4 Dead, he didn’t think twice about just walking through to Teddy’s room, fumbling through his bag for the comics he’d just bought as he did. (Billy also had something of a problem with looking where he was going, and usually the results were painful. And hilarious, to Tommy.)
These results, well, these results weren’t hilarious, and they were only really painful in the way that all the blood rushing suddenly away from one’s head is painful.
The first thing Billy noticed were the sounds. There was kind of a slick noise, almost rhythmic, and it was underscored by what was almost certainly ragged breathing. There was a gasp that might generously be called a moan.
Billy looked up.
- Now, it’s not like they hadn’t done plenty of stuff. They were hormonal teenage boys-- moreover, hormonal teenage boys who lived kind of dangerous lives that led directly to huge surges in adrenaline and huge surges of relief when certain people made it back to base in one piece. Billy was familiarly comfortable by now with a lot: the weight of Teddy’s cock in his hand or the way Teddy’s belly tasted salty with sweat after awhile and how the muscles there jumped when Billy sucked on his navel or That Thing Teddy did, that trick of the tongue that only a shapeshifter could manage. So, Billy knew all of this (and if it still got Billy’s blood rushing too fast, that was sort of to be expected because, well, Teddy). But there were other things, things Billy didn’t really let himself think about yet for fear of an over-chafed dick, or possibly some kind of sex-based aneurysm.
(Aneurysms don't work like that, the rational part of Billy’s brain tended to pipe up. But Billy, along with knocking and looking where he was going? Was also not so great at always listening to the rational part of his brain.)
So Billy was sort of unprepared when he looked up from his bag. -
Teddy was kneeling on his bed, knees bent apart and toes hooked into the sheets. He was wearing a tshirt, but it was rumpled and ruched up in a way that generally suggested to the eye that no, actually, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. Adding to that was the fact that his boxers were around his ankles, so the line of his body was all torsoskinhipskinlongleanthigh. He had reached one hand between his legs, and it was. His hand. His fingers, they were. They--
Billy’s fingers went nerveless, and he had just enough time to think, Sex-based aneurysm, incoming, before Teddy turned and saw him.
“Oh s-shit, Billy,” he said, flushing impossibly redder than he had been. He scrabbled at the sheets, clearly trying to bunch up enough time with them to regain his composure. “I--I--” he stammered, and Billy noted in a sort of detached way that Teddy’s fingers where he grabbed at the covers were still kind of slick and wet.
Billy tried to speak, but his mouth was far far too dry to let him.
“It was-- I was just--” Teddy tried again, embarrassed and trying to find a way to talk around the fact that Billy had just caught him fucking himself with his fingers, and Billy could see how hard his cock still was, even through the sheets, and the comics and soda that Billy had brought to help them spend the afternoon suddenly seemed monumentally unimportant, because Teddy was really really adorable when he stuttered like that and also, Billy had just walked in on his boyfriend fucking himself with his fingers and Billy really needed to help with that.
Needed.
Immediately.
“You were--” he said, because apparently his brain would only let him speak to (badly) state the obvious. He swallowed as he crossed to the bed.
“I just-- It--” Teddy started.
“Was really really hot,” Billy finished and did the only thing left for him to do.
When he finally broke away from kissing Teddy, Billy became distantly aware that they were both now panting rather heavily and he was apparently straddling Teddy’s knees. It felt like one of Teddy’s hands was under his shirt, but it was getting a bit lost in the complete mental overload he was having. “Shit” he muttered, and kissed Teddy again, kissed his lips, his jaw, his neck, because he absolutely had to and also to give himself a minute to sort things out.
“I really want to-- Would it be alright if I-- Can I just--” he said against the skin of Teddy’s neck, against the groan in Teddy’s chest, against the beating of his own heart.
“Fuck yes,” Teddy said immediately, and pushed at the sheets. “Please.”
Billy scrambled awkwardly down the bed - because, motor control, what motor control, haha? - until he was kneeling between Teddy’s thighs. Teddy’s cock was flushed and heavy where it lay against his belly, and wet at the tip, and it took every ounce of self control Billy had not to just lean down and take it into his mouth as he had so many times before. He bit gently at the jut of Teddy’s hip instead. He knew what to do, it’s not like he didn’t know anyone with five minutes and a computer could know, but right now. Right now he needed to see, see up close what he had only gotten the barest glimpse of when he came into the room.
“Show me,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Teddy said, chest heaving, “yeah, okay.”
The was the click of a cap, and Billy looked up Teddy’s body to see him spreading more lube over his fingers. Fuck, even that was gorgeous, and Billy’s brain was clearly either already deeply screwed up (probable) or thoroughly scrambled and well on its way to that aneurysm (hopefully not). And then he decided he didn’t really want to deal with that particular issue as there were more pressing concerns at hand. He snatched the tube to spread some over his own fingers, then paused and thought about himself, and thought about his various character peculiarities, and thought about Things That Stain And Need To Be Explained, and sat back on his heels to remove his shirt first.
By the time he was done all that, the flush was back in Teddy’s cheeks and his breath was catching and Billy looked down and oh-oh god that should really not be allowed, for the sake of the sanity of all neurotic, gay superheros ever. Teddy’s fingers were moving so slowly, a slick slow rhythm that bordered on hypnotic, and his hips jerked upward - just a bit, like he couldn’t help it - with every insistent press. Billy scooted down a little more, pulled Teddy’s thigh up over his shoulder, and before he even fully knew what he was doing, had slid a finger in to join Teddy’s two.
“Aaaah, fuck.”
“Is that okay? Was that too much?” Billy looked up to where Teddy was propped up on one elbow, his mouth slightly slack, and jesus he was breathtaking, and Billy was just about the luckiest person in the goddamn universe right now.
“N-no, it’s good,” Teddy said. “Fuck, it’s really good.” Billy grinned at that.
Then Teddy slid his fingers out, which Billy took as an invitation to add more of his own, and when Teddy moaned and his head dropped back Billy thought he might just die.
“Do you,” Billy said finally, around the lump in his throat, “do you do this a lot?”
“Not-not all the time,” Teddy panted, “But sometimes - ah - sometimes I need--”
Billy twisted his hand and Teddy moaned there, and Billy was never going to stop replaying this in his head, not ever.
Billy clutched at Teddy’s hip with his free hand and tried to catch his breath. “Need what, T? Please, need what?”
Teddy bucked, clenched around Billy’s fingers, and Billy’s whole body felt three sizes too small.
“You,” Teddy said, his words stumbling all over each other as they rushed to get out, “you, I want it to be you, I think about that all the time, how badly I want you and, fuck, fuck--”
“Shit, Teddy, shit, shit.” Billy mouthed at the join of Teddy’s hip, lower lip dragging against the skin there. “Oh god.”
“Billy, please-- You have to-- My cock, I’m so close,” Teddy groaned.
“Don’t have to do anything,” Billy said. He wanted the words to be sarcastic, in control, but they came out broken and ragged and he’d barely said them before his mouth was on Teddy’s cock, tongue pressing flat as he slid up.
There was a whuuffff as Teddy’s arm gave out and he fell backwards to the mattress, but all that meant was that his hand was now free to bury itself in Billy’s hair, and Billy kind of loved that a lot, so he was really not going to complain. No, he was just going to take Teddy’s cock deeper into his mouth, and twist his fingers some more because Teddy seemed to like that, and mostly just do his best not to burst.
It didn’t take very long after that. Teddy was probably already pretty worked up before Billy even got there, but Billy was still taken off guard a little by the sudden way Teddy’s body clamped down, the squeeze of his body around Billy’s fingers that made Billy think fuck, if that were my--, before Teddy groaned long and low, and came.
Billy did his best to swallow and slid his fingers out as carefully as he could, kissing Teddy’s stomach when he hissed a little. He tried to readjust himself, but before Billy could do more than let Teddy’s leg down, Teddy had grabbed him by the back of the neck and basically hauled him bodily up the bed into a kiss.
Once again, when they finally broke apart, Billy found himself in a different position than where he started. Now he was cradled between Teddy’s legs, and he could feel Teddy’s chest heaving beneath his own. Teddy’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and his nose and cheeks were still a little flushed, and suddenly every single thing that Billy had not let himself think came rushing into his head all at once because holy shit he had just finger-fucked his boyfriend and that meant all of those things were suddenly possible.
Teddy spread open for him, Teddy on his hands and knees, Teddy saying ‘now, please, now’, Teddy’s whole body rocking as Billy thrust into him, the sweat along Teddy’s spine as his arms gave out and he dropped forward onto his elbows, Teddy asking him to lick lower, no, lower, Teddy’s hand on his own dick as he rode Billy’s
“Oh fuck, Teddy,” he said. He dropped his head to Teddy’s shoulder, dizzy with the realization and the fact that his cock chose that moment to remind him that no, there was no blood in his head because it was all down south and maybe something could be done about that? It would like that very much, or anything that wasn’t just lying around like the aneurysm had finally gotten him because, oh hey, erections trapped in jeans are not actually very fun or comfortable. Billy groaned into Teddy’s neck and bucked down against him before he could stop himself. But Teddy just grinned and kissed him, deep and thorough, as he reached down to unzip Billy’s fly.
“Don’t move,” he breathed into Billy’s ear, then nipped it, and before Billy could tilt his head to kiss him again, Teddy had slid all the way down underneath him until he could push Billy’s boxers down just enough to free his dick.
“What are you d--” Billy tried to say, but then it became abundantly clear what Teddy was doing when Billy’s cock was engulfed in wet heat a second before Teddy did That Thing with his tongue.
After that, Billy doesn’t get out much more than a hrrglnnn or two, possibly with a fuck, T thrown in, at least not for a while. Luckily neither of them particularly minds, nor is it unexpected as, like knocking or listening to his rational brain, coherency is something Billy has never been particularly good at.
Good thing a few bad habits aren’t the end of the world
::fin::