likeamonster: (Default)
Emil Blonsky ([personal profile] likeamonster) wrote in [community profile] parallaxparilis2012-12-27 02:58 pm

The ongoing adventures of Blonsky/Chris: Part 4



The ride remained uneventful at normal speeds, the road stretched on too long, and he came as close to their limit as possible before a motel billboard appeared declaring it was just a few miles ahead, next right. As much as he wanted to drive on through the night he knew it simply was not possible. Gas shortage due to earlier activities for one thing; the need to ditch the stolen car being another.

He made a snap decision and turned in to the motel's lot. It was late evening, not yet eight according to the radio, and he figured they could get a few hours rest before leaving at dawn.

"You're going in." He stated flatly, without looking towards Chris, as he parked the furthest away from the office's main doors. "Just get a room, no frills, the cheapest. Don't draw attention to yourself." A pointed glare for this last statement. For someone like Chris he knew this was almost an impossibility.

With the car stopped, he reached behind Chris for the bag full of the genius's collected junk. In the side pocket was the one thing he knew they'd packed, as he had put it there himself: a wallet discovered in that broken down home they'd stayed in. Two neatly folded twenties were handed to Chris, with the rest of the wallet disappearing into Blonsky's back pocket. If he hadn't tracked Banner for so long, he might've been tempted to use the credit cards.

"Seems simple enough, right? Out you go."
moralimperative: (not sure what my feelings are doing)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2012-12-28 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
That tone stripped all hope of pretence away, leaving Chris to stand and stare, left oddly vulnerable. He was practised enough in false smiles and forced non sequiturs to fool the ignorant masses who neither noticed nor cared if the façade happened to slip, but to the attentive he was as good as an open book. That Blonsky should happen to fall into the latter category was really no surprise.

Chris wet his lips nervously, glancing at the floor, before making eye contact again. "It's fine," he repeated, more quietly. There may still have been a twinge of something else, some doubt or fear or unease, but the words themselves held conviction.
moralimperative: (really; is that true?)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2012-12-28 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
In response to Blonsky's advice, Chris merely smiled again, the expression simultaneously more genuine and infinitely more fragile than before. The effect was almost wryly self-depreciating, but if it should have come accompanied by some comment or another then he kept it to himself.

Instead he pulled off his shirt as Blonsky laid out their plan for the morning, balling it up in his hands and tossing it into the corner before taking a seat on the bed. When asked if he had questions, he paused in thought briefly before stripping down to his boxers and settling beneath the covers as he replied, "What's your favorite color?"
moralimperative: (coffee; you've seen him too?)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2012-12-28 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Chris watched the other in silence for a long moment, either still wary of whatever concern he'd had earlier or trying very hard to decide whether or not Blonsky's answer was acceptable. In that, at least, it was genuinely impossible to tell.

Finally he blinked, realizing that his question had been posed back to him.

"Chartreuse," he answered simply, reaching for the pillow on his side of the bed and pulling it down to curl against.
moralimperative: (two of the top ten minds in the country)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2012-12-28 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Chris was silent for another long stretch of seconds, watching the unnatural protrusion of Blonsky's vertebrae beneath the smooth expanse of his back as he moved.

He glanced back up once the soldier had turned to him again, shaking his head slightly. Blonsky's instructions were clear enough, and he could understand why keeping to a single vehicle might prove problematic over time. Part of him had to wonder what the other man's long-term plan looked like, if he had one at all, but the rest of him didn't particularly mind one way or the other anyway, so to ask was mostly irrelevant. "Not really."
moralimperative: (launch problem or design problem?)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2012-12-29 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
Caught, he didn't bother trying to deny it. Instead Chris reached out to run the tip of his finger down a few of the exposed ridges of Blonsky's spine, almost absently.

He'd been told about the Abomination, couldn't help but to have noticed the few physical deformities that lingered in Blonsky's normal form when they had first met, but he hadn't been given the opportunity to really look before.
moralimperative: (oh)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2012-12-29 05:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't have boundaries issues," Chris countered bemusedly, his touch hesitating as he parsed that response.

Oh. Blonsky thought-- he pulled his hand away, letting it waver indecisively for moment before placing his entire palm across the other man's back, feeling skin stretch and shift atop the bony 'spines' with every breath. Proximity was hardly an issue; it was what the other might or might not choose to do with said proximity that threw him so thoroughly off balance.

"Biology isn't really my field," he offered in explanation instead, glad for a distraction in the name of scientific interest, "but something that could do this, and break every principle of mass/matter conservation?" He trailed off, circling one vertebrae with his thumb.
moralimperative: (think before you ask these questions)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-03 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
Pulse jumping in response to the sudden, immediate shift in Blonsky's demeanor from restful to deliberate sensual assault, Chris grappled for the soldier's arm with his free hand, fingernails digging in with the excessive force of adrenaline and apprehension.

That tension bled too-quickly out of him on the exhale of a shaky sigh, his hand sliding up Blonsky's arm to find the ridges of his spine once again before his initial reaction could be called into question. Tentatively he traced over them, his touch much lighter than before.

"How do you propose you do that?" he challenged, managing false bravado surprisingly effectively, all things considered.
moralimperative: (sideballin')

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-04 09:38 am (UTC)(link)
From there Blonsky would be able to feel as his captive's heartbeat continued to race, Chris dropping his own hand passively to his side. He shivered, tilting his hips experimentally against the leg insinuated between them, though his movements lacked the conviction necessary to alleviate any of that agonizing pressure of his own accord.

Still he managed to be defiant, if that defiance came filtered through the barest hint of actual uncertainty, "Should I be?"
moralimperative: (if I only knew the answer)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-05 06:58 am (UTC)(link)
Chris froze, paralyzed in a way he hadn't been even as his pulse had spiked under the weight of the soldier's hand bearing down upon him. The look of his hesitation would be recognizable as the same that had given him pause upon realizing the room had only one bed.

His fingers traced the path of the zip, touch somehow simultaneously as resolute as it was faltering, but went no further. His eyes flickered to meet Blonsky's, apprehensive. Maybe he wasn't afraid, or maybe he wasn't afraid for the reasons he should have been.

Or maybe something else entirely. "Make me."
moralimperative: (it's all fucked)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-05 08:27 am (UTC)(link)
Panting through the tail end of a pained gasp, Chris swallowed roughly, feeling Blonsky's thumb constrict his throat all the more with the motion and that in turn only causing his breath to stutter unevenly. He shook his head, eyes falling closed, movements uncoordinated as the hand still held in Blonsky's grasp tugged obediently at the zipper to his jeans.

"No," he answered, tone still deceptively strong for as short as his breath was, as clearly out of his depth as he was, "But that's never stopped me before."
moralimperative: (I passed; but I failed)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-06 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
An involuntary sound escaping him in response to Blonsky's 'encouragement', Chris tried in vain for more of the same, legs spread invitingly as he moved pleadingly against the other man's knee-- only to have it removed from his reach. The abruptness of Blonsky's question caught him by surprise, heart nearly skipping a beat as he attempted to refocus on the man above him. Fear and arousal would be evident in equal parts; wanting this because he didn't, not wanting it because he did.

But Chris didn't answer, merely reached for Blonsky's hip with his free hand in a bid to draw him closer, other hand boldly groping through the open fly of the soldier's jeans with a courage that he clearly didn't possess. It was another challenge posed: does it matter?
moralimperative: (lately I've been missing me)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-09 08:31 am (UTC)(link)
Chris groaned in response, both hands reaching for Blonsky's back and clawing at the sensitive skin along the soldier's spine as he tried desperately to pull him closer, hips grinding up in an involuntary stutter against the heat of Blonsky's erection through the threadbare material between them. Nowhere near enough to satisfy, it left him wanting; wanting to be touched the way he'd been kissed, leaving no room for argument. The intensity of that desire sent a shiver through him, tension having once again found its way into every line of his body.

"No," he managed at long last, the admission revealing far more than its words alone, "I haven't."
moralimperative: (it's all fucked)

[personal profile] moralimperative 2013-01-13 10:42 am (UTC)(link)
The force of Blonsky's kiss was all that kept Chris from crying out, a guttural moan smothered by teeth and tongue with an intensity that claimed him, owned him completely. It left him lightheaded; practically sobbing for breath when at last they parted.

The rest of the sensations didn't stop with the return of oxygen, however, and he could only thrust helplessly, desperately into the soldier's firm hand. His fingers drawing red lines with the path of his nails across Blonsky's back, fading almost as quickly as they could be made, Chris groaned, his head falling back so that he wasn't looking at the other when at last he found his voice--ravaged though it was--to speak: "Blonsk-- Blon... Fuck," syllables just weren't cutting it, "fuck me, please-- Just..."

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