Chapter Text
The moment Alex saw Hank McCoy, he knew he was in trouble. Those glasses and that cute little mouth and how fucking shy he acted, even though you could tell he knew what he was about, he was smart as hell and he knew it, but he still curled in on himself on the couch like he needed someone sitting next to him to draw him by force out of his shell. He was still looking for someone to take over for him, to show him how desirable he was and leave the bruises so he would remember, so he could stop doubting himself.
It brought back memories. Alex’s first boyfriend had been a mousey little nerd that cried when Alex slammed him too hard against the wall or bit his lip when they kissed. That was before Alex learned to tell the difference between fear and need like the kind Hank radiated. And when it had been – safe. To touch, and to hold like that. Now his body was a weapon, and a secret he had to keep. And that kind of (really) sucked.
Not that he didn’t appreciate the situation he was in. The opportunity he had been given. Just a few weeks before he had thought his destiny was to rot away in solitary, in a women’s prison, with the guards who called him by his full name like they were trying to make a point even though they sounded ridiculous. And then these two men had walked in, Misters Xavier and Lensherr, and told him he wasn’t alone, he was a mutant.
They didn’t have a name for the other thing, or if they did neither of them said it (tranny, dyke, freak) but they took it in stride. That had been his first experience with the Professor’s gift, after he had growled out that his name was Alex, thanks, all tension and anxiety, not sure what was going on after watching them talk their guard escort right out of the cell, wanting them to leave, it wasn’t safe. And the two had just looked at each other, like they were having some sort of silent conversation (later he realized that was probably exactly what they were doing) and then a minute later they were both calling him young man. H would be lying if he said Lensherr seemed comfortable with it but he didn’t say anything when Alex used the money they lent him to buy men’s clothes that actually fit, to replace the skirts and blouses and the few baggy and threadbare t-shirts and jeans the warden handed over to him on their way out, and Xavier helped him pick out the leather jacket, assured him he looked "quite groovy."
So it wasn’t like Alex wasn’t grateful for the chance to have a life, to have his own life and not the life of the girl everyone had wanted him to be, but Hank only knew him as Alex Summers, ex-con, and if he kissed Hank (or did any of the other things he wanted to do to that pretty red mouth) he figured he would either get punched now for being a man or get punched later for being a woman and either way he could only see it ending with him accidentally – no. He wasn’t going to think about that.
Unfortunately, for what little sense Alex had, (not very much, he knew) his urges were stronger, but luckily he’d always lived by his instincts and before he really had time to think about it he’d said something hurtful, mean, maybe beneath him but certainly enough to keep the temptation of Hank at arm’s length. And later he felt bad over it, felt sorry for himself for having to see Hank look at him like that, all anger and hurt and the promise of never trust you ever and the label, bully; but he didn’t really feel bad for Hank (at least he told himself this) because it had to feel better than being blasted into oblivion by Alex, and a small part of him sort of already hated Hank for that argument Alex would have to make sure they never had.
His resolve started to crumble when Hank called him into the lab one day for something – measurements – and it had seemed so weird but Hank was always kind of weird so he hadn’t asked, at first, just didn’t look at or talk to or think about Hank, the frustration of ignoring him making Alex increasingly irritated with Hank’s hands all over him, body heat so close to him. Then Hank mumbled something about "focus" and "control" and Alex realized it was his power Hank was talking about, this was something – for him, that he certainly hadn’t asked for, and he looked at Hank in surprise, wondering what he had done to deserve this, after everything he had done to not.
Hank had just ignored his scrutiny, intent on what he was doing, and it seemed like he was talking to himself more than Alex, because for all Alex usually didn’t understand half the things the nerd said he could usually tell when Hank was trying to make himself comprehensible to other people. Then Hank had him lift his arms and was measuring around his chest and Alex realized very suddenly that Hank had gone quiet. An initial stab of panic overtook him – the cloth came loose the measurements aren’t right something’s wrong he knows – but then he glanced over his shoulder and saw Hank was blushing, certainly not focused on Alex’s chest, hardly even reading the number on the tape measures for the effort he seemed to be exerting in not looking at Alex’s ass. Or maybe not letting Alex catch him looking at his ass.
Oh.
That was when he finally allowed himself to start thinking – hoping – planning. Most of these things ended in Alex’s door locked and hand down his pants at night (or in the morning, or at any time really), rubbing off and groaning Hank’s name.
He hit on an idea in this manner maybe more quickly than expected. It was simple, really; he didn’t have to be naked to get Hank off.
It was a few days more before he was able to get Hank alone again. At least, without interrupting him in the lab, and he didn’t want to – well – surely whatever Hank was working on in there was more important than what Alex was after. So it happened one night when Alex caught Hank on his way to bed, purely by luck, shuffling sleepy-eyed past the kitchen.
Alex jumped up, abandoning his snack, and followed him. From the tension in Hank’s shoulders he noticed immediately, but he didn’t say anything; he just cast Alex a nervous glance after they passed the door to Alex’s room. Alex grinned at him, knowing how he looked when he did that, sharp and hungry; Hank flushed and looked away again, but when he got to his room he didn’t shut the door. So Alex followed him in.
Hank jumped a bit and turned when Alex shut the door behind them, locked it. He eyed Alex nervously, looking like he was trying to figure out if Alex was going to hit him, which, yeah, maybe he had good reason to think that, with how Alex had been talking to him. He also looked a little hopeful, though, and Alex licked his lips. Hank was waiting for him to say something. To take control of the situation.
“You’ve been working pretty hard. I thought I could help you…relax a little.”
And that wasn’t really what he meant to say at all, that sounded like a bad (terrible) line from a porno, but Hank didn’t seem to care much since he had gotten the meaning just fine and he was blushing, leaning against his dresser and looking to the side like he was embarrassed, maybe because it looked like he was already getting hard, just at the thought of – what? He didn’t even know what Alex wanted yet. Just the thought of Alex wanting him, then, which sent a warm shock through Alex’s own body.
He stepped forward quickly, cupping Hank’s cock through the fabric of his khakis before pressing their bodies together, maybe a bit forward but he didn’t want to risk Hank grinding against his crotch, not sure what he might be able to feel. Hank swallowed and then moaned quietly, attracting Alex’s attention to the smooth column of his throat (and it wasn’t like he could reach Hank’s lips easily anyways, why did Hank have to be so tall). Alex sealed his mouth there, feeling the warmth and pulse of Hank’s blood just under the surface, found that scraping his teeth lightly along the skin there got Hank to moan again and press forward into his hand. The sound went straight to Alex’s cunt like a shot, making him bare his teeth against Hank’s skin.
He pulled away a bit, hands shaking a bit with arousal now but he took care of Hank’s belt and the button of his pants, dug a hand under the waistband of his underwear and palmed his cock. Hank gave a shuddery gasp, one hand fisting at the hem of Alex’s shirt, the other pressed against his dresser like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, what he was allowed to touch, and as much as Alex wanted Hank to touch him anywhereeverywhere he knew this would have to be okay for now.
He continued mouthing at Hank’s throat, stroking him hard and fast and Hank kept making these breathy little moans and whimpers like he wanted more but wasn’t sure how to ask, and finally Alex dug his hand down deeper and squeezed Hank’s balls, maybe a bit roughly but Hank must have liked it because suddenly he was coming, moaning helplessly and shaking under Alex’s hands. Alex sucked gently at the jut of his collarbone, tugging down Hank’s shirt to get at it. He waited quietly for Hank to recover, ignoring the slow burn of his own arousal and just enjoying this, the quiet sound of Hank panting against his ear as he tried to slow his breathing, the wetness of Hank’s spunk on his fingers and the heat of his body even through his ridiculous sweater-vest (why did he wear that when he hadn’t even been outside all day, surely it wasn’t that cold in his lab).
Then Hank’s hand drifted from Alex’s shirt to his hip, grasping uncertainly, and Alex pulled away smoothly. He glanced around and found tissues on Hank’s desk – of course they would be there, like he actually had them in case he got a cold – and used one to wipe his hand. Hank watched, his expression going from confusion to embarrassment.
“I – sorry.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, gave a half-grin. “Sorry? What did you think was going to happen? Because I kind of came in here hoping to get a little dirty.”
This just made Hank flush more, but he looked less embarrassed now and more like he was considering going another round with Alex’s hand, which as nice an idea as that was Alex already thought if he didn’t get to rub off soon he was going to explode (and he remembered when he used to have a bit more self-control than that, but really, he had been in solitary a very long time and somehow jacking a guy off was even hotter when the guy wasn’t grabbing at Alex’s chest and calling him ‘babe’). So when Hank asked, “what should I, um,” Alex cut him off, probably more sharply than was strictly necessary.
“Nothing. It’s fine. I’ll…see you around.”
And maybe he should have said something more, but really at that point it was all he could do not to pin Hank down and hump him like an animal. So he wadded up the tissue and tossed it in Hank’s trash, slipping out the door as casually as possible.