X-Men Oneshots

Heat of the moment (Hank Mccoy)

The lab was dimly lit, the quiet hum of machines the only sound in the aftermath of a long, exhausting day. Hank McCoy, otherwise known as Beast, was hunched over a cluttered table, scribbling notes, his brows furrowed in concentration. Y/N sat across from him, her body aching from the fight they had just barely survived. The mission had been brutal—chaotic, full of close calls and moments where everything could have gone horribly wrong.

Yet they had made it through. Together.

Y/N's muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion weighing down on her limbs, but her mind was still running, adrenaline refusing to leave her system. She stole a glance at Hank, watching the way his blue-tinted fingers delicately handled the vials and papers in front of him. He was brilliant, and his calm in the middle of the battle was something she had always admired. But now, in the quiet stillness of the lab, there was something else tugging at her—something far more dangerous than admiration.

She had always been drawn to Hank in ways she hadn't fully allowed herself to explore. His intellect was mesmerizing, but it was his kind heart and quiet strength that had captured her attention over the years. He wasn't like the others. He didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve or play into the bravado of being a hero. He was thoughtful, cautious, and the way he looked at her sometimes—like he was seeing all of her—made her heart skip a beat.

As the silence stretched between them, Y/N's restless energy only grew. She shifted in her seat, trying to shake the feeling gnawing at her, but the tension in the air between them was thick, almost suffocating. It was as if the battle had left behind more than just physical exhaustion; it had left behind something electric, something she couldn't ignore any longer.

Hank must have felt it too, because he suddenly looked up, his golden eyes locking onto hers. The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was heavy, charged with an energy that hadn't dissipated after the fight.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with concern.

"I'm fine," Y/N replied, her voice quieter than she intended. "Just... still wound up, I guess."

He nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "I understand. It's hard to come down after something like that."

Y/N swallowed, the weight of his gaze making her pulse quicken. "Yeah, it is." Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, and she could feel the tension building, the unsaid words hanging in the space between them.

For a moment, there was silence again, the two of them locked in a shared understanding that neither could quite put into words. The mission had been close—too close—and there was something about nearly losing everything that made the air between them feel... different. More urgent.

Y/N's eyes flickered to Hank's hands, the strong, steady hands that had just hours ago been fighting to protect them both. She could still feel the adrenaline in her veins, the need for release, for something real, something grounding. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, she looked back up into his eyes.

The look he gave her then—it was smoldering, full of unspoken desire and barely restrained tension. It was the kind of look that sent a jolt through her, igniting something deep inside. She had never seen him like this, but now, there was no denying what was happening between them.

"Hank..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

He didn't move at first, just continued to look at her with that same intensity, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if trying to hold himself back. But then, slowly, he stood, his tall, broad form casting a shadow over the desk as he moved toward her.

Y/N's breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew this was reckless—knew that whatever was happening between them was the result of too much adrenaline, too much heat left over from the battle—but she didn't care. The attraction, the pull, had been there for far too long, simmering just beneath the surface. And now, in the heat of the moment, she couldn't resist it any longer.

Hank stopped just in front of her, towering over her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "If this isn't what you want—"

But before he could finish, Y/N stood, closing the final space between them and pressing her lips to his.

The kiss was electric, full of the pent-up energy and emotion they had both been holding back. Hank's arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his chest as the world around them seemed to disappear. Y/N could feel the strength in his grip, the way he held her as if afraid she might slip away, and it sent a thrill through her.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was anything but gentle. It was fierce, desperate, as if they were both trying to chase away the remnants of fear and exhaustion with each touch. Y/N's fingers tangled in his thick hair, her body pressing closer to his as the heat between them intensified. She had never felt anything like this before—the raw need, the overwhelming desire that consumed her every thought.

Hank's hands slid down her back, his fingers gripping her waist as he deepened the kiss, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Y/N gasped against his lips, the sound of his need only fueling the fire burning inside her. She had always known there was more to Hank than his gentle demeanor, and now, in this moment, she could feel the depth of his passion, the intensity he had been holding back for so long.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and flushed, Y/N rested her forehead against his, her hands still clinging to him as if she couldn't bear to let go. Hank's golden eyes were dark with desire, his breath ragged as he looked down at her.

"This... this wasn't supposed to happen," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know," Y/N replied, her voice just as shaky. "But I don't regret it."

Hank closed his eyes for a moment, his grip on her waist tightening. "Neither do I."

They stood there for a long moment, the weight of what had just happened settling between them. The tension was still there, the crackling energy that had ignited their passion, but now it was mixed with something deeper—something real.

Hank lifted a hand to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender now, the fierceness of their kiss replaced with something more intimate. "I've wanted this for a long time," he admitted, his voice soft but full of sincerity.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his words. "So have I."

The heat of the moment had passed, but the connection between them remained, stronger than ever. They had fought side by side, faced danger together, and now, in the quiet aftermath, they had found something neither of them had expected. Something real.

4o