[ X-Men: First Class ] [ A Jetpack With Your Name on It ]
Title: A Jetpack With Your Name on It
Series: X-Men: First Class
Character/Pairing: Hank McCoy/Alex Summers (Beast/Havok)
Rating: R
Notes: Originally a response to a prompt on 1stclass_kink. Title from Far East Movement's Rocketeer. I recommend the LA Dreamer Remix.
Alex wakes up to the silence of a snowy winter morning, though there's no risk of him actually feeling cold, not with Hank as his own personal furnace behind him. He blinks his eyes but can't be bothered to move, not with Hank's arm thrown across his body, trapping him in position. He misses this, Alex thinks, one finger trailing a path down each of Hank's fingers, feeling the curve of each knuckle. He misses hearing the chatter of the new students, of opening the windows in his room to see the view of the grounds below, of disturbing Hank in his lab.
College is good, he knows, and he really likes learning. Each book read, each term paper submitted takes him one step further from that frightened, brash kid doomed to spend his life in solitary, and closer to a man carving out a life for himself. But college also takes him away from home, here in Westchester, and not for the first time, he wishes he didn't have to go away.
He can feel it when Hank wakes up, the shifts in his body, the grunts he makes as he makes the transition from sleep to wakefulness.
"Morning," Hank rumbles against his back and Alex smiles, even though Hank can't see it. He thinks (maybe a little foolishly) that Hank can sense it, though.
"Morning, bozo," he greets in return and he can feel Hank chuckling, the formerly cruel nickname now an intimate personal joke between them. "Go back to sleep," he says, patting his arm. "It's still early."
"Can't," Hank replies, his hand stroking Alex's hip gently. "Too many things to do today."
"Like what?" Alex asks.
Hank doesn't reply, but slides his hand lower, lower down Alex's hip till he's wrapped his hand around him, the pads of his fingers causing delicious friction. Alex laughs even as he feels himself respond, thrusting forward a little, encouraging Hank to continue. "Dude, you need to improve your pick-up lines."
"I don't see you complaining, Alex," Hank replies, breath gusting over the nape of Alex's neck. He reaches out, grabs the bottle of lube left on the side table during yesterday night's exertions, and squeezes some onto Hank's hand.
"Yeah, like that, Hank," he says, breath shortening into short pants as Hank steadily works him, hissing with pleasure when Hank runs a careful claw down his length. "Feels good."
They don't say anything more after that; Alex closes his eyes, head falling back onto Hank's shoulder as he enjoys the feel of Hank's hands on him. It doesn't take much, they've been too long apart, and he gasps as he comes, warm fluid spilling into Hank's hand.
"That was awesome," Alex whispers a few minutes later, when he's calmed down somewhat, sprawling bonelessly in Hank's arms. "But aren't you forgetting something?" he pushes back against Hank.
"It's OK, I can handle it later," Hank says. Alex can positively imagine Hank blushing behind him, and he feels mildly annoyed. Because that's so like Hank, not to ask for anything for himself, even though Alex is more than willing to give him what he wants.
"Go on, Hank," he pushes back against Hank again.
"But we just--"
"I want to feel you," Alex says, cutting Hank off. "Come on, Hank, do it. Don't make me beg." Hank takes a strangled breath when Alex deliberately rubs up against him. He turns his head and looks at Hank through hooded eyes. "Or do you want me to? I could, if that's what you want."
"Alex," Hank sputters, "It's inadvisable, just yesterday we--"
"Even better, I won't need the prep," Alex drawls. "I'm good to go, come on, Hank."
Alex turns back to face the front, and moves his leg forward in open invitation, counting down the seconds in his head as to when Hank would cave. Sure enough, he can hear the long-suffering sigh Hank makes, the sound of lube being slicked on and then Hank is pushing slowly into him and Alex closes his eyes in triumph, savouring the stretch and burn as Hank begins to move.
He clutches the edge of the pillow, lying passively as Hank takes him, enjoying the feel of Hank's hand digging into his hip. There'll probably be bruises later, but Hank will have made those bruises so Alex will wear them with pride. He's going to be sore too, but he doesn't care, they only have a few short weeks together before Alex has to leave again and he wants as many reminders of Hank on him as possible.
Alex can feel Hank's rhythm breaking down, pace stuttering as he reaches completion and he urges him on, "Come on, Hank, you're so close, so close," he chants. He feels Hank biting down into the curve of his neck as he falls over the edge, canines piercing his skin and Alex reaches back to clutch Hank's arm as Hank rides out his orgasm.
They shower together afterward, and Alex brushes off Hank's effusive apologies as he fusses over the wound. "It's not like you're rabid, bozo," Alex jokes, only to have Hank draw back, horrified at the possibility that he could have given Alex a disease. "For fuck's sake, for a scientist, you can be pretty damn stupid," Alex continues, tugging Hank's head down for a slow and thorough kiss. "How many times do I have to tell you it's OK?"
Despite Alex's protests to the contrary, Hank insists on placing a band-aid over the puncture marks before finally allowing himself to be dragged downstairs for breakfast. Alex beams at everybody, whilst Hank mutters his apologies for being late.
Charles gives them a knowing smile and nothing else, and offers them their seats whilst Sean shakes his head in mock disapproval.
"Shameless," Sean says, shaking his head, "Summers, you're absolutely shameless. Couldn't you have at least waited until later?"
Alex throws a him a punch that he deftly avoids. "You're just jealous I got to him first."
Next to him, Hank turns an even deeper shade of blue while Sean covers his face in horror. "Some things, I don't need to know!"
Alex ignores Sean's teasing, sits down next to Hank, and reminds him to pass the toast.
end
Series: X-Men: First Class
Character/Pairing: Hank McCoy/Alex Summers (Beast/Havok)
Rating: R
Notes: Originally a response to a prompt on 1stclass_kink. Title from Far East Movement's Rocketeer. I recommend the LA Dreamer Remix.
Alex wakes up to the silence of a snowy winter morning, though there's no risk of him actually feeling cold, not with Hank as his own personal furnace behind him. He blinks his eyes but can't be bothered to move, not with Hank's arm thrown across his body, trapping him in position. He misses this, Alex thinks, one finger trailing a path down each of Hank's fingers, feeling the curve of each knuckle. He misses hearing the chatter of the new students, of opening the windows in his room to see the view of the grounds below, of disturbing Hank in his lab.
College is good, he knows, and he really likes learning. Each book read, each term paper submitted takes him one step further from that frightened, brash kid doomed to spend his life in solitary, and closer to a man carving out a life for himself. But college also takes him away from home, here in Westchester, and not for the first time, he wishes he didn't have to go away.
He can feel it when Hank wakes up, the shifts in his body, the grunts he makes as he makes the transition from sleep to wakefulness.
"Morning," Hank rumbles against his back and Alex smiles, even though Hank can't see it. He thinks (maybe a little foolishly) that Hank can sense it, though.
"Morning, bozo," he greets in return and he can feel Hank chuckling, the formerly cruel nickname now an intimate personal joke between them. "Go back to sleep," he says, patting his arm. "It's still early."
"Can't," Hank replies, his hand stroking Alex's hip gently. "Too many things to do today."
"Like what?" Alex asks.
Hank doesn't reply, but slides his hand lower, lower down Alex's hip till he's wrapped his hand around him, the pads of his fingers causing delicious friction. Alex laughs even as he feels himself respond, thrusting forward a little, encouraging Hank to continue. "Dude, you need to improve your pick-up lines."
"I don't see you complaining, Alex," Hank replies, breath gusting over the nape of Alex's neck. He reaches out, grabs the bottle of lube left on the side table during yesterday night's exertions, and squeezes some onto Hank's hand.
"Yeah, like that, Hank," he says, breath shortening into short pants as Hank steadily works him, hissing with pleasure when Hank runs a careful claw down his length. "Feels good."
They don't say anything more after that; Alex closes his eyes, head falling back onto Hank's shoulder as he enjoys the feel of Hank's hands on him. It doesn't take much, they've been too long apart, and he gasps as he comes, warm fluid spilling into Hank's hand.
"That was awesome," Alex whispers a few minutes later, when he's calmed down somewhat, sprawling bonelessly in Hank's arms. "But aren't you forgetting something?" he pushes back against Hank.
"It's OK, I can handle it later," Hank says. Alex can positively imagine Hank blushing behind him, and he feels mildly annoyed. Because that's so like Hank, not to ask for anything for himself, even though Alex is more than willing to give him what he wants.
"Go on, Hank," he pushes back against Hank again.
"But we just--"
"I want to feel you," Alex says, cutting Hank off. "Come on, Hank, do it. Don't make me beg." Hank takes a strangled breath when Alex deliberately rubs up against him. He turns his head and looks at Hank through hooded eyes. "Or do you want me to? I could, if that's what you want."
"Alex," Hank sputters, "It's inadvisable, just yesterday we--"
"Even better, I won't need the prep," Alex drawls. "I'm good to go, come on, Hank."
Alex turns back to face the front, and moves his leg forward in open invitation, counting down the seconds in his head as to when Hank would cave. Sure enough, he can hear the long-suffering sigh Hank makes, the sound of lube being slicked on and then Hank is pushing slowly into him and Alex closes his eyes in triumph, savouring the stretch and burn as Hank begins to move.
He clutches the edge of the pillow, lying passively as Hank takes him, enjoying the feel of Hank's hand digging into his hip. There'll probably be bruises later, but Hank will have made those bruises so Alex will wear them with pride. He's going to be sore too, but he doesn't care, they only have a few short weeks together before Alex has to leave again and he wants as many reminders of Hank on him as possible.
Alex can feel Hank's rhythm breaking down, pace stuttering as he reaches completion and he urges him on, "Come on, Hank, you're so close, so close," he chants. He feels Hank biting down into the curve of his neck as he falls over the edge, canines piercing his skin and Alex reaches back to clutch Hank's arm as Hank rides out his orgasm.
They shower together afterward, and Alex brushes off Hank's effusive apologies as he fusses over the wound. "It's not like you're rabid, bozo," Alex jokes, only to have Hank draw back, horrified at the possibility that he could have given Alex a disease. "For fuck's sake, for a scientist, you can be pretty damn stupid," Alex continues, tugging Hank's head down for a slow and thorough kiss. "How many times do I have to tell you it's OK?"
Despite Alex's protests to the contrary, Hank insists on placing a band-aid over the puncture marks before finally allowing himself to be dragged downstairs for breakfast. Alex beams at everybody, whilst Hank mutters his apologies for being late.
Charles gives them a knowing smile and nothing else, and offers them their seats whilst Sean shakes his head in mock disapproval.
"Shameless," Sean says, shaking his head, "Summers, you're absolutely shameless. Couldn't you have at least waited until later?"
Alex throws a him a punch that he deftly avoids. "You're just jealous I got to him first."
Next to him, Hank turns an even deeper shade of blue while Sean covers his face in horror. "Some things, I don't need to know!"
Alex ignores Sean's teasing, sits down next to Hank, and reminds him to pass the toast.
end