Fic: Touch, Scars and Unreality
Title: Touch, Scars and Unreality
Author: Corona
Fandom: Dr. Horrible
Pairing: Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer
Ratings: NC-17
Warnings: Dubious consent
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
AN: Porn!spree, sorry it's a day later than I promised, the drabbles kept getting delusions of grandeur.
Touch, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, NC-17 (dubious consent)
There's a split on the right side of his cheek, a tear that bleeds under every careful poke of his tongue. Dr. Horrible is fairly certain it happened earlier when Captain Hammer backhanded him into the dumpster.
Though he can't remember if he bit it when Captain Hammer hit him, or when his face hit the metal. Either way it's something to concentrate on, something abstract and interesting.
Something that isn't Captain Hammer's hands on his skin.
The floor of the warehouse is cold and every movement sends tiny chips of concrete grating along his back and the curve of one arm. But he keeps his noises behind his teeth.
Captain Hammer is far too close, and too much, breathing against the edge of his face in a way that makes his skin twitch in furious impatient anger, but Dr. Horrible doesn't turn his head.
He doesn't look at him.
At least not until Captain Hammer's fingers are pulling on his chin in a way that's demanding and arrogant and an inch past pain.
Dr. Horrible relents and turns his head, accepts the kiss that makes the inside of his mouth hurt again.
If Captain Hammer tastes blood he doesn't show it.
Captain Hammer is exactly as heavy as he looks and there's nothing careful about him, even out of the gloves his hands aren't gentle. He likes to press his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises. Dr. Horrible is used to bruises, bruises are familiar. He's used to his encounters with Captain Hammer ending in a variety of painful ways.
But this is different-
This is inside and under the skin, hands where they shouldn't be and tangles of material and the pain is almost a relief in its familiarity.
Someone has music playing at half volume, some tooth-gratingly saccharine boy band singing about how they're never going to leave.
Which seems ironically appropriate.
Scars, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, NC-17
Captain Hammer isn't as perfect as he'd like people to think. There's a scar on his hip from...something. A mystery, and Dr. Horrible finds it curious among all the near-impervious flesh. He can't stop running his fingers over it, secrets under the skin.
Captain Hammer smacks his hand without opening his eyes.
"Stop it, that tickles." He glares up at him a second after he's voiced the admission as if annoyed that he's revealed some small weakness.
"How did you get that?"
Captain Hammer is more real under his clothes, smooth and tanned and interesting, though he's still an arrogant, narcissistic asshole who couldn't find his way out of an empty room without help.
"Doing something ludicrously brave and risky," Captain Hammer says tartly.
He's lying, Captain Hammer is an astonishingly bad liar.
Dr. Horrible touches it again until Hammer's thigh twitches. Dr. Horrible finds that reaction fascinating.
There's a hand in his hair then, all heavy warm fingers, pushing and twisting and he makes a noise in his throat, a noise which fades to air when Hammer pushes his head back. Just far enough that his next breath cracks out of him, and then Hammer's fingers relax, tip his head forward, a gracelessly unsubtle suggestion as to what he should be doing rather than using his fingers to irritate Hammer's impervious skin.
Dr. Horrible thinks about protesting, about pulling against the movement. Though that will probably only get him a stinging scalp and bruises in interesting places.
Captain Hammer is a big fan of bruises in interesting places.
So Dr. Horrible folds under the movement, low enough for his breath to skid against Captain Hammer's cock. He twitches under the sensation then shifts on the bed, in a way that's restless and needy.
The hand pushes impatiently, and Captain Hammer knows the difference between insistent and painful.
His hips slide through Dr. Horrible's hands trustingly enough though, and he can feel bones under his thumbs, though it's unlikely he could ever get to them.
He tips his head, bends low enough to taste. A push from the hand in his hair encourages him deeper, turns the wet drift of tongue into a push that he has to open his mouth around.
And Captain Hammer's cock is heavy on his tongue, always so heavy. And it's there in the way he pushes in, the way he demands with short pointed twists of his hips. Like Dr. Horrible doesn't know what he wants already, doesn't know what he always wants. Because he's smart and he remembers.
Captain Hammer likes teeth, and when Dr. Horrible concedes to that wordless demand the hand releases his hair and fans across the back of his head. Not pushing, just holding, though it will push later, Captain Hammer can never not be in charge for long.
Unreality, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, R
The water is warm against Hammer's upturned face, just warm enough that he can feel it wherever it slides. Wherever it's pushed by small, narrow hands.
Only he doesn't remember anyone else-
Captain Hammer opens his eyes and looks down.
He isn't alone in the shower. Though Captain Hammer isn't quite sure how or when Dr. Horrible infiltrated his shower. It's not a very large shower, so Captain Hammer isn't quite sure why he didn't notice him before, standing there look every inch as devious as he does not wet...and naked.
Captain Hammer thinks he should probably do something.
But Dr. Horrible has a slippery hand somewhere the League of Heroes would disapprove of, if Captain Hammer told them, which he isn't going to.
He opens his mouth to protest, or to at least find some sort of withering comment appropriate to the situation, or to just make noise, when Dr. Horrible's other hand finds its way into his wet hair and tugs his head back. He has to stretch up onto his toes in order to kiss him, skin sliding against every inch of Captain Hammer's wet chest and Hammer wraps an arm around his waist without even thinking about it, pulls in and up and the kiss is suddenly a lot deeper than it was before. Dr. Horrible's fingers are shifting in his hair, tongue sliding almost lazily across Captain Hammer's.
His own hands are discovering that Dr. Horrible's long slippery waist twists under his hands in ways that make him want to dig his fingers in and-
He has difficulty remembering why he isn't supposed to touch him like this.
Dr. Horrible's hand is still moving, slow and indulgent and any protests Captain Hammer was determined to voice disintegrate under Dr. Horrible's slippery hands.
Greediness eventually pushes him into trying to catch hold of Dr. Horrible's skin, trying to press his smaller body into the tiles. But Dr. Horrible seems to be able to slither out of his grip with irritating ease.
Captain Hammer is bewildered for one long second as to why he can't hold him, but Dr. Horrible laughs against the corner of his mouth.
"You really are an idiot, you're dreaming again."
Dr. Horrible slides his hands down his arms and briefly tangles their fingers together which is, bewilderingly unnerving in a way Captain Hammer doesn't quite know how to voice.
"This really is becoming a pathology for you isn't it?" Dr. Horrible presses him into the chill of the tiled wall and holds him there, just long enough to kiss him and his mouth is soaking wet, lips slippery under the water. Captain Hammer tries to follow him when he escapes and ends up with a mouthful of water.
"While your conscious brain is busy trying to thwart my evil schemes and remember how to tie your own bootlaces your subconscious brain is wondering exactly what noises I'd make if you fucked me."
Captain Hammer swallows, fingers digging into skin hard enough to break it, and dragging nothing but an amused noise out of his nemesis.
"That's not true," he protests.
"That's absolutely true, I'm you remember? We've had this conversation before."
The hand twists and pushes and Captain Hammer's response cracks into something entirely different.
Dr. Horrible's other hand finds its way into his hair, and he pulls, pulls in a way that hurts. All impossible flicker of pain across his scalp.
"You like to think you could abuse me don't you? But you have this pathological need to put me in charge don't you. I think you want to be abused Captain Hammer. I think maybe you should tell me, I think I'd quite like it."
Author: Corona
Fandom: Dr. Horrible
Pairing: Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer
Ratings: NC-17
Warnings: Dubious consent
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
AN: Porn!spree, sorry it's a day later than I promised, the drabbles kept getting delusions of grandeur.
Touch, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, NC-17 (dubious consent)
There's a split on the right side of his cheek, a tear that bleeds under every careful poke of his tongue. Dr. Horrible is fairly certain it happened earlier when Captain Hammer backhanded him into the dumpster.
Though he can't remember if he bit it when Captain Hammer hit him, or when his face hit the metal. Either way it's something to concentrate on, something abstract and interesting.
Something that isn't Captain Hammer's hands on his skin.
The floor of the warehouse is cold and every movement sends tiny chips of concrete grating along his back and the curve of one arm. But he keeps his noises behind his teeth.
Captain Hammer is far too close, and too much, breathing against the edge of his face in a way that makes his skin twitch in furious impatient anger, but Dr. Horrible doesn't turn his head.
He doesn't look at him.
At least not until Captain Hammer's fingers are pulling on his chin in a way that's demanding and arrogant and an inch past pain.
Dr. Horrible relents and turns his head, accepts the kiss that makes the inside of his mouth hurt again.
If Captain Hammer tastes blood he doesn't show it.
Captain Hammer is exactly as heavy as he looks and there's nothing careful about him, even out of the gloves his hands aren't gentle. He likes to press his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises. Dr. Horrible is used to bruises, bruises are familiar. He's used to his encounters with Captain Hammer ending in a variety of painful ways.
But this is different-
This is inside and under the skin, hands where they shouldn't be and tangles of material and the pain is almost a relief in its familiarity.
Someone has music playing at half volume, some tooth-gratingly saccharine boy band singing about how they're never going to leave.
Which seems ironically appropriate.
Scars, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, NC-17
Captain Hammer isn't as perfect as he'd like people to think. There's a scar on his hip from...something. A mystery, and Dr. Horrible finds it curious among all the near-impervious flesh. He can't stop running his fingers over it, secrets under the skin.
Captain Hammer smacks his hand without opening his eyes.
"Stop it, that tickles." He glares up at him a second after he's voiced the admission as if annoyed that he's revealed some small weakness.
"How did you get that?"
Captain Hammer is more real under his clothes, smooth and tanned and interesting, though he's still an arrogant, narcissistic asshole who couldn't find his way out of an empty room without help.
"Doing something ludicrously brave and risky," Captain Hammer says tartly.
He's lying, Captain Hammer is an astonishingly bad liar.
Dr. Horrible touches it again until Hammer's thigh twitches. Dr. Horrible finds that reaction fascinating.
There's a hand in his hair then, all heavy warm fingers, pushing and twisting and he makes a noise in his throat, a noise which fades to air when Hammer pushes his head back. Just far enough that his next breath cracks out of him, and then Hammer's fingers relax, tip his head forward, a gracelessly unsubtle suggestion as to what he should be doing rather than using his fingers to irritate Hammer's impervious skin.
Dr. Horrible thinks about protesting, about pulling against the movement. Though that will probably only get him a stinging scalp and bruises in interesting places.
Captain Hammer is a big fan of bruises in interesting places.
So Dr. Horrible folds under the movement, low enough for his breath to skid against Captain Hammer's cock. He twitches under the sensation then shifts on the bed, in a way that's restless and needy.
The hand pushes impatiently, and Captain Hammer knows the difference between insistent and painful.
His hips slide through Dr. Horrible's hands trustingly enough though, and he can feel bones under his thumbs, though it's unlikely he could ever get to them.
He tips his head, bends low enough to taste. A push from the hand in his hair encourages him deeper, turns the wet drift of tongue into a push that he has to open his mouth around.
And Captain Hammer's cock is heavy on his tongue, always so heavy. And it's there in the way he pushes in, the way he demands with short pointed twists of his hips. Like Dr. Horrible doesn't know what he wants already, doesn't know what he always wants. Because he's smart and he remembers.
Captain Hammer likes teeth, and when Dr. Horrible concedes to that wordless demand the hand releases his hair and fans across the back of his head. Not pushing, just holding, though it will push later, Captain Hammer can never not be in charge for long.
Unreality, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, R
The water is warm against Hammer's upturned face, just warm enough that he can feel it wherever it slides. Wherever it's pushed by small, narrow hands.
Only he doesn't remember anyone else-
Captain Hammer opens his eyes and looks down.
He isn't alone in the shower. Though Captain Hammer isn't quite sure how or when Dr. Horrible infiltrated his shower. It's not a very large shower, so Captain Hammer isn't quite sure why he didn't notice him before, standing there look every inch as devious as he does not wet...and naked.
Captain Hammer thinks he should probably do something.
But Dr. Horrible has a slippery hand somewhere the League of Heroes would disapprove of, if Captain Hammer told them, which he isn't going to.
He opens his mouth to protest, or to at least find some sort of withering comment appropriate to the situation, or to just make noise, when Dr. Horrible's other hand finds its way into his wet hair and tugs his head back. He has to stretch up onto his toes in order to kiss him, skin sliding against every inch of Captain Hammer's wet chest and Hammer wraps an arm around his waist without even thinking about it, pulls in and up and the kiss is suddenly a lot deeper than it was before. Dr. Horrible's fingers are shifting in his hair, tongue sliding almost lazily across Captain Hammer's.
His own hands are discovering that Dr. Horrible's long slippery waist twists under his hands in ways that make him want to dig his fingers in and-
He has difficulty remembering why he isn't supposed to touch him like this.
Dr. Horrible's hand is still moving, slow and indulgent and any protests Captain Hammer was determined to voice disintegrate under Dr. Horrible's slippery hands.
Greediness eventually pushes him into trying to catch hold of Dr. Horrible's skin, trying to press his smaller body into the tiles. But Dr. Horrible seems to be able to slither out of his grip with irritating ease.
Captain Hammer is bewildered for one long second as to why he can't hold him, but Dr. Horrible laughs against the corner of his mouth.
"You really are an idiot, you're dreaming again."
Dr. Horrible slides his hands down his arms and briefly tangles their fingers together which is, bewilderingly unnerving in a way Captain Hammer doesn't quite know how to voice.
"This really is becoming a pathology for you isn't it?" Dr. Horrible presses him into the chill of the tiled wall and holds him there, just long enough to kiss him and his mouth is soaking wet, lips slippery under the water. Captain Hammer tries to follow him when he escapes and ends up with a mouthful of water.
"While your conscious brain is busy trying to thwart my evil schemes and remember how to tie your own bootlaces your subconscious brain is wondering exactly what noises I'd make if you fucked me."
Captain Hammer swallows, fingers digging into skin hard enough to break it, and dragging nothing but an amused noise out of his nemesis.
"That's not true," he protests.
"That's absolutely true, I'm you remember? We've had this conversation before."
The hand twists and pushes and Captain Hammer's response cracks into something entirely different.
Dr. Horrible's other hand finds its way into his hair, and he pulls, pulls in a way that hurts. All impossible flicker of pain across his scalp.
"You like to think you could abuse me don't you? But you have this pathological need to put me in charge don't you. I think you want to be abused Captain Hammer. I think maybe you should tell me, I think I'd quite like it."