parallaxparilis | The ongoing adventures of Blonsky/Chris: Part 4

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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."

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He wasn't usually one for planning, and now was no different. Only the next couple of steps were vaguely sketched out; the end goal was a blur at best. He only knew he had to keep moving, to stay just under the radar.

The irony of being what he himself had hunted only a handful of days ago was, once again, at the forefront of his mind. He shoved it back.

"Good. Then we should be able to sleep without a problem."

Now with everything momentarily clear and sorted out, he moved further down to rest, and turned away from his bedmate. The silence lingered for only a moment or two.

"Chris, I can feel you staring."

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.

Blonsky tensed at the touch and hissed in a breath sharply, but permitted him to continue for a few seconds longer. The skin there was stretched to near breaking point over the bone, much more sensitive than before. He briefly considered capturing that roaming hand and putting it to better use elsewhere... Multiple scenarios that began that way danced through his head, all with the inevitable conclusion that neither of them would get any actual sleep.

Practicality won out over temptation once more, and he was oddly okay with that. Again he chalked that up to the drugs working as they should.

"Didn't take you long to get over your boundaries issues, did it?" He commented and turned once more to face him. Intentionally he moved beneath the soft fingertips, and encouraged further explorations. "They cannot be that fascinating to you."

"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.

"More than worth it," Blonsky mumbled in response, and tried to keep his mind focused on the sleep they needed, the long trip they had ahead of them. But Chris and those fingers of his...

The soldier moved before he could think twice about it, seized the other's unoccupied wrist and moved atop him in the span of seconds. He captured Chris's lips with his own, and at the same time, the knee he'd forced between the younger man's legs moved against him slowly, a small torturous bit of friction despite the clothes still between them.

"No issues at all, huh?" He teased when at least he broke the kiss to permit him some breath. "Shall I fix that?"

While Chris floundered for a response, Blonsky's sharp teeth found their way to his throat, biting once more in the sensitive area.

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.

Blonsky chuckled, the sound practically a purr against the younger man's throat, tongue and teeth a breath away from the skin before he raised his head.

With his free hand he traced absently his thumb along Chris's torso, from belly button to a meandering circle around his nipple. He observed with piercing eyes this new plaything pinned beneath him as he did, testing reactions. It was ever fascinating how Chris went from seductive to shy in the span of a few seconds.

"You afraid of me, Chris?" Calm, almost detached tone, as he moved his hand over. He pressed it flat, fingers splayed, above his heart.

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?"

"Yes. 'Course you should. But you're not. A moth to a bloody flame, you are." The smallest note of amusement in that same contemplative voice.

The knee pressed against him remained still and he pressed down harder on Chris's chest, the smallest hint of the strength he possessed. It would require no effort at all to crush him, to shatter his rib cage into that pounding heart and nothing could stop him.

He didn't. Fun enough just thinking about it and he licked his lips. Blonsky moved Chris's hand to his torso, then further down to the zipper of his jeans. His hold loosened then, but didn't let go entirely.

"Touch me."

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."

Something flashed in his eyes then, something dark and dangerous, and that would be Chris's only warning. The hand pressed to that frail chest darted forward and grabbed the side of his neck. He pulled him forward and met him halfway in a crushing kiss. It left no room for argument, he forced his tongue inside, claimed him. He kept at it, each second more intense than the last, and well past the point his lungs screamed for oxygen. Only then did he allow the other to gasp for breath. His own were deep, though even, controlled.

But he was far from done. He sucked the tender lower lip into his mouth before capturing the flesh between his teeth and bit down. Painful to the point of agonizing, but not enough to cause bleeding, he released it only to lick at the new teeth marks.

"You sure that's a good idea?" His said as his thumb moved over Chris's throat, gentle at first then pressing in. Once again a hint at the damage he could do.

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."

Blonsky only grinned, and moved his knee offering only the tiniest bit of friction, nowhere near as much he knew Chris needed. It was a silent 'I know' and further encouragement to his hesitant obedience.

"Good boy," he said approvingly against Chris's lips, so very close. Already he could see a bruise forming at his throat from where he'd pressed. He rubbed at the wrist he still held, just a bit insistent, while he regarded him curiously. Suddenly, he asked, "You've never been with a man before, have you?"

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?

He went with the subtle direction, moved closer, allowing Chris to reach all he dared to touch. There was a breathy moan against his lips when he finally obeyed. Those almost desperate, and certainly clumsy, hands would find him already hard, needy but not yet out of control.

Chris's movements practically screamed his inexperience for the entire motel, but that wasn't good enough. Blonsky released his wrist and at the same time moved easily between those inviting legs and pressed himself down against him. Only the thin material of Chris's boxers kept them from completely touching. Just how he wanted it.

"You will answer me, Chris." An insistent thrust against him to emphasize his point.

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."

He half-growled, half-moaned and surged forward, practically fucking Chris through his boxers, but forced himself to slow down. He set his free hand on Chris's knee, inching it slowly closer to the heated center. But he held back until after the reply. After, he captured Chris's lips again in a kiss that demanded everything, least of all submission.

At the same time he nearly tore the flimsy waistband as he shoved it away, and soon gripped their erections together in his strong grasp, rubbing and moving and working his fingers over them both. Once again the kiss lasted past the point of needing air before it ended.

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..."

His own rough sounds of pleasure escaped him as the harsh scratching continued. The white-hot flare of pain lingered even as the healing took over.

He watched Chris, savoring the sight of him so completely undone beneath him, at the razor's edge of desperation and need. There were no limits, and he could do anything he wanted to him. What Blonsky did was grab a fistful of his hair, and force Chris to look at him.

"No." He replied. His voice was steady despite his breathy moans, and how close he was getting. His hand movements increased, intent on putting them both over that edge at the same time.

The harsh pull of Blonsky's fingers through his hair forced Chris's scattered senses into focus, making certain that when the reply came it was at the very epicenter of his universe: No.

No. Something in him sheered in two; even at wit's end he'd felt certain this was something it would only take so much provocation for Blonsky to do-- to take, to have. It curled his toes, drained the tension out of his very bones, until his arms were draped loosely around the soldier's neck and shoulders, reticent and yielding in place of his earlier brash tenacity, all at once the picture of inexperience he'd railed against.

It took a few false starts--breathless, bitten off sounds of mounting pleasure, almost in spite of himself--before Chris could find his voice again, as vulnerable under Blonsky's piercing gaze as under his weathered hands: "Why?"

Edited 2013-01-17 07:55 (UTC)

This close and still wanting to know why, wanting an explanation for everything. That youthful innocence betrays him. If only Chris knew how Blonsky so badly wanted to flip him over and fuck him into the matress, into a blackout where the kid couldn't remember his own name...

A variety of responses come to mind, all with the same meaning, though some more eloquent than others. He uses none of them. What he whispers in Chris's ear, firm and commanding, is a simple sentence in Russian. Its meaning isn't permitted time to discover.

He kisses him, surprisingly gentle this time, while his eyes were everything but. There's an almost punishing, teasing thrust of his hips against him, and his hand was just as merciless.

The curt whisper of Russian, hot and intimate against his ear, sent a shiver through him, stealing what remained of Chris's breath before he could put a voice to further question or protest. The kiss he clung to like a drowning man would salvation, finally--finally--giving back, slow and tender and still so wanting, a perfect contrast to the rest of Blonsky's established demanding pace.

When at last he came undone, it was with a breathless murmur into that kiss, cut short by a hitching gasp as his arms pulled tighter around Blonsky's shoulders, knees pressed against the soldier's waist in a desperate, involuntary bid to bring him closer still.

He held off until Chris came before joining him, softly moaning against his lips. Their fluids mix and pool together on the smooth stomach. Blonsky's hand falls to the bed, while his other moves to Chris's back, both to support him and press them closer together, sharing heartbeats, breath, easing down from the rush of hormones. Neither will be ready for another go tonight, nor would he want to. But that doesn't stop him from languidly moving his hips against the other, teasing the heated and sensitive skin there.

"We really should get some sleep, you know." He still hadn't moved out of his double embrace.

Chris gave a tired sound that was nearly a whimper in response to the other man's continued teasing of overstimulated flesh, his hands falling from Blonsky's shoulders like dead weight back onto the mattress. He felt boneless, moldable.

His eyes were still dark with arousal, quick mind rendered muzzy with post-orgasmic fog. What he needed to do was get up, clean himself off; he made it as far as hooking an ankle around Blonsky's leg, murmuring sleepily.

The teasing tapered off until he was just holding the exhausted, pliant young man. He lowered him onto the mattress and slowly moved his hand out from beneath him. Clearly clean-up duty was left to him. He eased away and off, long enough to locate some tissues. The chore was managed with quick, gentle efficiency, then he was back by his companion's side. Blonsky's hand wormed its way back to its previous location, just resting there between Chris's shoulder blades, his thumb massaging him absently.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

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moralimperative - 2013-01-20 19:51 (UTC) - Expand

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