hank sleeps on the couch in the end, as much as connor argues that it should be him the older man refuses to budge, and finally connor is too exhausted to argue and just sleeps in the damn bed before they both pass out from exhaustion. he sleeps in his underwear and the vest, idly thinking he might ask to borrow a shirt from hank as he drifts off right as light starts filtering into the room. they've stayed awake hideously late – connor's fault entirely of course – so it's pushing noon when connor finally starts to wake up.
hank was the focus of almost all of his thoughts that night, ranging from sweet and benign as dream hank teaches connor how to fix something on his bike, right through to shameful enough that connor can't think about them without blushing.
( connor on his back in this bed, in this position, hank's head between his legs, sucking him off with two fingers already deep in his ass, his hand on connor's throat– )
connor wakes up with a raging hard on and a hand already in his boxer briefs, and he knows he should just ignore it. shove it down for a morning piss and then wait until his dick wilts before pulling his jeans on. it's hank's bed, the man opened his home up to him, rescued him from being stranded in the middle of nowhere, and connor repays that generosity how, by jerking off in his bed? it's beyond inappropriate.
but his hand is already in his pants, and it's really hard to ignore.
connor stifles a soft moan by biting his lower lip, pressing his lips tightly closed. if he's going to do this hank can't know. he slides his hand into his pants deeper, grasping his cock and circling his fingers around the length. he must have been hard for a while now, even that gentle first touch sends a shudder up his spine and heat pools low in his abdomen.
he's already crossed a line and he really shouldn't make it worse, but connor's subconscious apparently strongly disagrees. he starts to slowly run his fist up his length, thumb circling quickly over the top before his fingers drop back to the base – and he's able to picture hank clear as day, the older man pressing up against connor's side and pumping his cock slowly. trying to think of something else is useless, and it only takes a moment for him to give up entirely.
once he gives up that last shred of restraint, connor quickly loses himself in the act. one thing he's sure of is that he has to be quick, he's already risking too much by doing this but there's certainly not time to take it slow. he's quickly bucking into his fist, fingers tight around his cock as he pumps in a quick, uneven pace. his underwear is still around his thighs and without lube he can't go too far, but he still spreads his legs enough as his underwear will allow. his other hand grazes down his stomach, and all he's picturing is hank's hands all over him.
connor's eyes slip closed, his head arching with his neck and his back curving up off of the mattress and he quickly shoves two fingers in his mouth and sloppily coats them with saliva before his hand goes back down between his legs. he presses a finger to his entrance, it's tight, hard to relax without the aid of lube but the saliva helps. he spreads his legs further, finger slipping in a little further, and the angle isn't right but connor still groans. far louder than he'd like, but he doesn't really notice his sudden increase in volume. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
all we do is drive, all we do is think about the feelings that we hide.
stay, don't close your hands, i wanna make this play.
hank sleeps on the couch in the end, as much as connor argues that it should be him the older man refuses to budge, and finally connor is too exhausted to argue and just sleeps in the damn bed before they both pass out from exhaustion. he sleeps in his underwear and the vest, idly thinking he might ask to borrow a shirt from hank as he drifts off right as light starts filtering into the room. they've stayed awake hideously late – connor's fault entirely of course – so it's pushing noon when connor finally starts to wake up.
hank was the focus of almost all of his thoughts that night, ranging from sweet and benign as dream hank teaches connor how to fix something on his bike, right through to shameful enough that connor can't think about them without blushing.
( connor on his back in this bed, in this position, hank's head between his legs, sucking him off with two fingers already deep in his ass, his hand on connor's throat– )
connor wakes up with a raging hard on and a hand already in his boxer briefs, and he knows he should just ignore it. shove it down for a morning piss and then wait until his dick wilts before pulling his jeans on. it's hank's bed, the man opened his home up to him, rescued him from being stranded in the middle of nowhere, and connor repays that generosity how, by jerking off in his bed? it's beyond inappropriate.
but his hand is already in his pants, and it's really hard to ignore.
connor stifles a soft moan by biting his lower lip, pressing his lips tightly closed. if he's going to do this hank can't know. he slides his hand into his pants deeper, grasping his cock and circling his fingers around the length. he must have been hard for a while now, even that gentle first touch sends a shudder up his spine and heat pools low in his abdomen.
he's already crossed a line and he really shouldn't make it worse, but connor's subconscious apparently strongly disagrees. he starts to slowly run his fist up his length, thumb circling quickly over the top before his fingers drop back to the base – and he's able to picture hank clear as day, the older man pressing up against connor's side and pumping his cock slowly. trying to think of something else is useless, and it only takes a moment for him to give up entirely.
once he gives up that last shred of restraint, connor quickly loses himself in the act. one thing he's sure of is that he has to be quick, he's already risking too much by doing this but there's certainly not time to take it slow. he's quickly bucking into his fist, fingers tight around his cock as he pumps in a quick, uneven pace. his underwear is still around his thighs and without lube he can't go too far, but he still spreads his legs enough as his underwear will allow. his other hand grazes down his stomach, and all he's picturing is hank's hands all over him.
connor's eyes slip closed, his head arching with his neck and his back curving up off of the mattress and he quickly shoves two fingers in his mouth and sloppily coats them with saliva before his hand goes back down between his legs. he presses a finger to his entrance, it's tight, hard to relax without the aid of lube but the saliva helps. he spreads his legs further, finger slipping in a little further, and the angle isn't right but connor still groans. far louder than he'd like, but he doesn't really notice his sudden increase in volume. )