Emil Blonsky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likeamonster) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
parallaxparilis2012-12-27 02:58 pm
likeamonster) wrote in parallaxparilis2012-12-27 02:58 pm
Entry tags:
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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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Still he managed to be defiant, if that defiance came filtered through the barest hint of actual uncertainty, "Should I be?"
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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."
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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."
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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.
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"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."
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"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?"
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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?
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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.
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"No," he managed at long last, the admission revealing far more than its words alone, "I haven't."
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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.
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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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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.
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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?"
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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.
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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.
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"We really should get some sleep, you know." He still hadn't moved out of his double embrace.
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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.
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It didn't take him long to fall asleep.
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He murmured something else into Blonsky's chest, a whisper of breath rendered unintelligible by fatigue and proximity-- and slept.