It's almost spring by the time Connor finally admits his little fixation is getting out of bounds.
His hand will linger too long whenever he touches any part of Hank's body with an otherwise friendly gesture. His eyes will be roaming over Hank's body any chance he gets and he'll get called out for it more than once during the day, especially if they're at work. Connor will smile his innocent smile and widen his eyes in surprise, pretending not to know what's going on, and Hank, in turn, will grudgingly pretend to believe him..Connor will pretend that him jerking off to certain tantalizing images of him and the Lieutenant every single night is not much of a problem, not at all.
That is, until the day Hank decides to take up boxing, and Connor's self-control takes the last step and leaps out the window.
Connor questions him about it while Hank installs a punching back in the garage, surprised at this particular choice of Hank's as a means of getting back into shape.
"I used to do boxing back in the day," Hank explains with a shrug, amused at Connor observing him with an expression of curiosity and mild bewilderment. "Can let off a lot of steam with this and it's great for building muscle mass. Or rebuilding, in this case," Hank says with chuckle.
Connor acknowledges the reply, though still failing to see a genuine appeal in the sport, and doesn't think of it much until the fateful day he goes out to the garage to brink Hank a spare bottle of water and—promptly stops in his tracks at the door, processors stuttering and making his breath hitch.
Hank is working out in old sweatpants and a T-shirt, its back and front drenched in sweat, clinging tightly to his skin. The muscles in Hank's arm bunch with every hard, fast and methodic punch he makes. His face is set hard with concentration and he doesn't notice Connor standing there, mouth slightly agape, the skin on the hand holding the water bottle retracting a little due to the harshness of his grip.
He instantly imagines—pre-constructs, as he is wont to of late—Hank touching him in this state, on an adrenaline high, large hands hot and rough on Connor's body. Connor pictures Hank pinning him with his weight against the wall, muscles not too crudely defined after just a few workouts but still tangible through his sweat-soaked skin. He can almost feel strong arms wrapping around him, Hank kissing him, lips traveling down to his neck as he divests Connor of his clothes, lifts him up so Connor can wrap his legs around Hank's firm waist, and fucks into him, setting a merciless pace, cock moving through the slick lubricant in Connor's asshole, because of course the image of Hank like this spikes each and every one of his arousal protocols—
Still stuck motionless at the door, Connor almost lets out a moan before he forcibly composes himself. Takes a deep breath. With the way his systems are working overdrive, it's infinitely tempting to just approach Hank and beg him to take him then and there.
Instead, Connor overpowers the urge, sets the bottle on a nearby table and bolts back into the house. His rock hard erection hinders his movements somewhat until he falls on the bed and, throwing away his pants and boxers, finally wraps a hand around his cock.
His other hand fins his asshole and he pushes in two, three fingers, fucking himself roughly, craving for it to be Hank's cock stretching him, Hank's fingers stroking him to completion, Hank's crushing weight above him as he—
His orgasm is devastating, wave after wave rippling through Connor as come coats his fingers, the sheets, spurting on the floor, and all the while he lies there, spent and almost completely satisfied, if not for the absence of the forbidden object of his desires.
It's a shock for him to realize, minutes later, that he ended up not on the living room couch, as he'd initially intended, but was lying instead in Hank's bed, now suddenly hyperconscious of the mess he made. He scrambles to put himself together, cleans up the space and rushes out of the bedroom like it's on fire, just in time to greet Hank from his training session and, yet again, pretend like everything is totally, perfectly fine.
