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Due to an overwhelming amount of agents and a Mag on their tail, Deimos and Hank were unfortunately separated from Sanford.
They've taken refuge in an empty room. From the looks of the decrepit walls and worn down beds, it can be assumed that it was used to keep in patients. It couldn't have been for genuine medical reasons, Deimos thinks as he presses himself against the wall. The wall feels grimy against Deimos and for a second he's almost too glad that he's wearing a jacket.
Deimos takes a deep breath, taking a rare chance to peer at his surroundings. He watches Hank pace around the room, gun in hand and trigger finger itching. Deimos hums a little to himself.
“Why are we waiting here? We can take a few agents.” Hank says, impatient.
“Uh, yeah, it's not just a bunch of agents, dude. Did you forget about the Mag?” Deimos retorts, stretching his arms and slumping against the wall.
“I've killed Mags before too.”
“Sure, sure.” Deimos brushes off, moving his fingers to graze against his headpiece.
Deimos slides the mic down, pausing a bit before speaking. “Sanford, come in. Are you alive?”
A minute passes. No response yet. Deimos panics just a little bit.
Then, static.
“Sorry. Yeah, I'm alive. I cleared the way out for you two, but you're on your own for that Mag. I'm waiting here in the van.” The gruff voice of Sanford comes in, and Deimos lets out an audible sigh of relief.
“Jesus, you fucking scared me. Thought some agent got you.”
“An agent killing me? Hah, who do you take me for?” Sanford chuckles, seeming to ease just a bit.
“That's great, though. We'll see you there in a while.” Deimos says, sliding the mic back up. He can hear Sanford's response, but quickly gets it out of his mind as he turns back to Hank.
“Y’hear that? We can go anytime you want. Impatient ass.” Deimos jokes a bit, sliding off the wall.
“It's not being impatient. We're on a mission here, and I'm not sticking around long enough for Sanford to get attacked.”
“Sanford's a big boy, Hank, I'm sure he can handle himself.” Deimos snorts, moving to stand in front of Hank.
Hank is much taller than Deimos is, and this is obvious when he has to crane his neck up a little to look at him. Behind his goggles, Hank doesn't look impressed at all by whatever Deimos is about to say. Regardless, Deimos moves to press his hand against Hank's chest.
“Let's say we get some of that pent up energy out of you, huh? Maybe you're more of a threat to Sanford than some agents are.”
Hank squints. “I can't use you for target practice.”
Deimos pauses, then sighs. “You're a dense motherfucker, dude.”
“I don't know what else you could have possibly meant by that.”
“Really? No clue at all? Come on Hank, please tell me you get bitches. Don't do this to me.” Deimos practically begs, still keeping the joking tone.
Hank is silent.
“Have you ever seen a pussy in your life?”
“Oh.” Hank says, apparently having had it just click for him right then. “I didn't know you meant sexually. You really could've just said that.”
Deimos groans. “You're killing my fucking boner here! I was trying to be seductive?? Ever heard of it?”
“Well, you're awful at it.”
“Oh fuck off. Do you want to fuck me or not?”
Hank pauses for another second. If Deimos were to squint, he could tell that his companion got just the slightest bit embarrassed. “Sure.”
“You're one hundred percent certain? I don't want to force you.” Deimos says, suddenly sounding very serious.
Hank nods, flustered. “But you really want to fuck in this gross room?”
“Beggars can't be choosers. That table over there looks pretty clean, though.” Deimos suggests, shrugging a bit.
“Alright, well. We can… If you'd like to make your way over.”
Wow. Deimos didn't expect that to work out as well as it did. But if Hank is okay with it then he assumes it's fine, and if Deimos were to look down he'd get a good look at…
Haha. Okay. That's a bit bigger than he imagined. Not that Deimos spends any time thinking about his allies’ dicks or anything. That would probably be intrusive!
Regardless, Deimos makes his way over to the table, Hank following close behind. Deimos hesitates for a second, eventually hopping up onto the table effortlessly. Pressing himself on his back, he keeps his legs open as he dangles them off the table, biting his lip hard when Hank presses against him.
“Safe word,” Hank says at some point, Deimos' head suddenly feeling too fuzzy to hear.
“...Hhhah, who knew big scary Hank cared so much about my comfort?” Deimos teases, whining a little when the grinding stops.
“Deimos. I'm not going to continue until you give me a safe word.” Hank says assertively. Deimos whines again.
“Fine, fine… Nothing wrong with tradition, right? I’ll just use streetlight colors. Red and yellow, you know.” Deimos huffs, moving his own hips to grind against Hank, impatient.
Hank only hums, hands sliding against Deimos’ inner thighs. He grips onto them tightly, finally shoving Deimos completely against his aching hard-on. Deimos gasps, legs instinctively trying to close- only to be held apart by Hank’s strong grip, unshaking. Deimos pants at the rubbing, hands gripping tightly onto his shirt as he keeps his eyes fixed on their crotches pressing together.
“Oh,” Deimos says suddenly, catching Hank’s attention. “I don’t- Uh, I’m- I promise I’m aroused, it’s just that-”
“You’re trans,” Hank suggests quizzically, but doesn’t stop his grinding.
“Yes! Yes, I’m trans. I hope that’s not an issue.” Deimos croaks, a little hesitant.
Hank hums, “That’s fine… It doesn’t hinder your ability to fight.”
What an asshole, thinking about combat when he’s about to shove his cock deep inside of Deimos. He sighs a little, annoyed, but that does wonders to help Deimos settle back down. His anxiety melts away and is replaced by the hot feeling of arousal, heat pooling in his abdomen. Despite the grip on his legs, Deimos wiggles his hips a little, whining needily.
Hank pulls back, ignoring Deimos’ protests. He fiddles with his pants’ zipper- purposely slow to fuck with Deimos- until he eventually shoves his cock out from the hole he’s made. Deimos swallows back thickly, eyeing Hank’s erection.
Huge, he’s huge, and much bigger than Deimos could have ever imagined. Deimos presses his legs together absentmindedly just thinking about the way he’s about to have that inside of him. Hank doesn’t say much, just moving to grip Deimos’ thighs and force them apart once again. Deimos watches Hank’s hands slide up and underneath his pants’ waistline, giving him no time to react as his pants are dragged off of his body and onto the floor.
Left in his boxers, Deimos shudders at the feeling of the cold table beneath him. He shifts a bit himself- sliding off his equipment along with his jacket, setting it to the side and out of the way. It doesn’t help him be any less cold, but at least it won’t get dirtied by anything that happens. Regardless, he watches closely as Hank places his hands on top of the waist-line of his boxers.
Slow and teasing, Hank slides the boxers down. He strips them off of Deimos’ body, leaving him bare and vulnerable. Deimos shivers, the heat of his body clashing hard with the cold air around him. Hank moves to press himself flush against Deimos, cock resting on top of his clit. Deimos squeaks at the feeling.
“You’re tiny,” Hank breathes against Deimos’ ear, “I could ruin you.”
He speaks so delicately. So soft and gentle, unlike the bloodthirsty Hank Deimos sees most often. And yet Deimos can feel Hank’s aching cock pressed against him, hard and needy and fuck, without any sort of preparation that’s definitely going to do more than just hurt a little. Deimos opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out- just a soft gasp as Hank reels back, fingertips replacing where his cock was just seconds ago.
Hank rubs gentle circles against Deimos’ clit. Deimos’ hips twitch at the feeling and he can’t help but let out a choked moan. He sucks in air through his teeth, clutching onto his shirt for dear life, watching Hank’s fingers circle around his most sensitive parts. At once Hank is sliding his gloves off, setting them aside on the table along with Deimos’ clothes. Deimos watches Hank quizzically, but Hank doesn’t respond, only slowly sliding a finger inside.
It’s wet enough for Hank’s finger to slide inside without any issue, but the slick walls surrounding him are tight and narrow. Deimos moans out, biting down on his lips as he spreads his legs- furthering inviting the intrusion. Deimos watches tearfully as Hank bends down, using his free hand to slide his mask down around his neck. Deimos is confused for a second, gasping harshly when he feels Hank press his tongue against his clit.
“Ahh-!” He yelps a bit, surprised, but soon his vision is swarming. “Ffffuck, yeah, right there-” He chokes, arching his back into the feeling.
Deimos wraps his legs around Hank’s head to press him deeper, tense and squeezing hard at the fabric of his shirt. Hank seems to oblige, slipping in another finger as he laps at Deimos’ clit. He pumps his fingers in and out gently, stretching Deimos out even the smallest bit. Deimos seems to be enjoying it, at least, squirming under the feeling, hitched and breathy moans escaping his lips.
Soon enough Deimos is reaching his climax, choking back moans. He arches his back again, pressing Hank’s face deeper against him. Hank doesn’t stop, gazing at Deimos with half-lidded eyes as he continues to lick at Deimos, until-
Deimos clenches around Hank’s fingers hard, the world tilting and fading into white noise. He doesn’t know how loud he’s being as he cums around Hank’s fingers, utterly soaking them in his fluids. Deimos sobs as he comes back down, hissing as Hank drags his fingers back out of the sensitive spot.
“That should loosen you up a little,” Hank coos, standing properly and squeezing Deimos’ thighs.
“S’at it..?” Deimos whines, panting.
“No,” Hank promises, gently scratching at Deimos' thigh. “We're just getting started. I just needed you to loosen up.”
“I'm not that tight…” Deimos mutters, embarrassed.
“It's like you've never been fucked before!” Hank says, sounding almost astonished. “But that means I get that warm, wet tightness all to myself. I get to feel every inch of you.”
Hank props himself against Deimos' slit, glancing up momentarily at Deimos to make sure he's still alright. Deimos nods eagerly, rocking his hips against Hank's cock. Hank presses the tip of his cock inside, stopping there when Deimos lets out a hiss of pain. Hank rubs at his partner's sides soothingly.
Eventually Deimos gets used to the intrusion, much bigger than Hank's fingers were. He pants impatiently, rocking himself to get some sort of friction going. Hank takes it as the okay to push the rest of his cock inside, shuddering and exhaling at the tight wetness around him. It's slick enough for him to move with ease, and apparently slick enough that Deimos moans out, hips stuttering at the feeling.
“Hhahh- Hank, it's so thick-” Deimos chokes, pressing the back of his head against the cold table.
“Take everything you can,” Hank growls, pushing deep inside of Deimos until his balls are pressed against his ass.
Deimos squeals, whining brokenly at the feeling. He blinks tears away to glance down at Hank's cock shoved deep inside of his body, threatening to tear him in half.
Hank gives Deimos time to relax around him before he pulls all the way out, only to slam back in. Hank shivers, panting quietly as he sets a rough pace to start. Deimos rocks against the table from the force of it, moaning and gasping. He continues to hold onto his own shirt for dear life, legs twitching with every thrust.
“Ghgh- Haah, Haank~” Deimos whimpers pathetically, purposely squeezing around Hank's cock. “You're so big, you're gonna tear me in half~!”
Hank presses himself flush against Deimos, nipping at his throat. Deimos whines, moving his hands to grip at the back of Hank's coat, weeping at the plethora of stimulation.
“H-Hank!” Deimos moans out, dangerously close to the edge all over again. “Fuck, fuck, make me yours- Haahh, I want you to b-breaak me, oh God- ”
Hank is fucking into Deimos at an angle where he's pressing against his clit with every thrust, and the feeling soon becomes too much. Deimos sobs out as he cums for the second time, insides pulsing around Hank's very much so still hard cock.
Deimos continues to weep as Hank fucks into him full force. Skin slapping against skin and Deimos' cries for the most part is what fills the empty room. Hank himself hasn't been very vocal aside from his pants, and yet soon enough he's groaning into Deimos' neck, biting down more harshly now.
His thrusting grows more sloppy and yet more rougher. Deimos catches this, hiccuping between moans.
“Cum in me, please, I want you to fill me up so deep- ” Deimos begs, legs curling around Hank and pushing him in deeper. Hank pants, moans getting louder by the second.
Hank's hips jolt and he presses hard against Deimos, biting into his collarbone. Deimos cries out when he feels Hank's hot cum shoot deep inside of him. Hank fucks into Deimos as his orgasm comes to him in waves, until the stream slows and then stops.
Hank pulls his head back, kissing the bite almost apologetically before gazing at Deimos. For a second it's almost as if their heartbeats are in sync and all they can do is gaze at each other, taking in each other's air.
Deimos wraps his arms around the back of Hank's neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. Hank almost finds it endearing.
“...Deimos,” Hank says after a while, shaking the shorter man gently.
“Mmh.” Comes the muffled response.
“We should get going. We still have a mission to complete.”
Deimos whines against Hank, holding onto him tighter. Hank sighs, reluctantly pulling away.
“Put your clothes back on, I'll deal with the Mag.” Hank reassures.
Deimos pouts, his voice uncharacteristically soft and maybe even a bit hoarse, “Can we cuddle in the truck?”
Hank stills, face flushing. “Sure, if we make it out alive.”
---------
Sanford waits impatiently outside the agency headquarters for Hank and Deimos. How much longer will it be? He's been waiting here for minutes. He'd half a mind to storm back into that Hellhole to get them out of there safe. And Deimos isn't responding back, either. Sanford groans. Just what exactly are they doing in there?
He's startled when he hears the loud clanging noise of the back of the truck opening. It's Hank and Deimos, with Hank being reasonably blood soaked, as normal. What's abnormal is how he's holding Deimos in his arms, cradling him gently. Sanford raises a brow.
“You two sure look tired,” Sanford comments, “That Mag gave you that much trouble?”
“Sure,” Hank replies quickly, sitting down and sliding Deimos into his lap.
Sanford squints. That answer was lackluster. Sanford is about to press further until Hank speaks again.
“Would you get us home already, 'Ford?” Hank says suddenly, “We're kind of tuckered the fuck out.”
“Alright, alright, fine.” Sanford scoffs, turning back in the driver's seat.
The truck's engine roars to life, and Sanford gets them on the road.