Hank Anderson is somewhat of a local legend.
Hank works alone.
And Connor has just been assigned to his boat, after a lot of nudging from worried mutual friends.
He can be blunt, gruffly asks Connor questions about why he got himself into the business as they're leaving.
He doesn't usually get much quiet on boats with other people. Usually rowdy, playing cards, singing along with the radio. Sometimes someone does a cannonball if they're feeling brave and wild.
Hank moves around quiet at the helm, no radio or trying to carry a conversation. He leans out of the cockpit and offers a bag of jerky, and Connor takes some with a thankful smile. He's never had jerky with seaweed.
He plays the part of a salty older man well, gruff and grizzled from the sea. But when he looks off into the water, his face softens and he looks… longing. Appreciative.
And then he sees Hank.
"Holy shit. Hank?!" His brains fires with options;
"Connor?" Hank's voice catches him by surprise and he gets stuck in his shirt trying to see his only crewmate. "What the fuck are you doin'?"
"No!" Connor yells at him, panic still making a mess of his body, "What are you doing?! Are you… Are you trying to drown?"
"You're fine?!" Connor's voice cracks, breathing hard. Hank's hand is rough against his skin, way more than he thought the first time they shook hands.
"You're the other kind." Connor says, shaky and knees pulled to his chest.
Hank scoffs, bobbing softly in the water, "You're all the others to me."
Connor's face goes a little more red,
Hank doesn't expect that. It forces a shocked laugh out of him, tailfin twitching. "What?"
"You're big and intimidating, with a deep voice." Connor shrugs, but his whole body shakes.
"Sorry. Those are good things. I like those things. I mean…" Connor sighs, not ready to deal with this.
Hank glances at him as he leans over and drags a blanket from earlier off his seat, draping it heavy over Connor. "I know, it's a lot…"
"It's pretty." Connor whispers, bundling the blanket around his face.
"No one's ever said that before." He mumbles, in a way that means he's not talking completely to Connor. He feels alright getting closer, making sure Connor's back is covered. Connor scoots closer.
They stay there for a while, until Connor can pull himself up and Hank's mostly dry. Connor is still trembling,
He doesn't turn around, his heart can't handle /that/. But he freezes when Hank's hand curls around his shoulder, "Come into my cabin, it's got better heating."
He stays in the middle of the room while Hank gets dressed, keeping his back to him and sneaking a glance in the reflection of the room's porthole.
The morning comes and Connor feels sweat along his back, sandwiched between the warmth of Hank's body and the heater. He groans and pushes his face against the softness under his head, wanting to sleep more. It rises and falls with a sigh. He realizes it's Hank's stomach.
Connor feels himself flush with embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I…"
Hank snorts quietly, "That's a joke. You are tiny though, I didn't realize until last night."
He feels delightfully overheated, the salt of the sea water still clinging to his skin. Only a slight ache in his shoulder. "I'm okay… your cot's really comfortable."
That makes a lot of sense. Hank's bed with multiple well-stuffed pillows, heavy quilts and patterned sheets. To keep his legs comfortable when he's used to being in water without them.
"You're pretty understanding. And… you care. Most wouldn't come up deck to check on an old man."
"You care, too." Connor counters easily, "I fell in and you… you kinda freaked out."
He watches the color flush up on Connor's cheeks and feels his stomach flutter like he hasn't in a long while. "Wh… /Oh/. Oh, I didn't… Oh wow."
Connor pauses at the door, in Hank's slouchy clothes & asks softly "Is that good?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."
Hank just needed someone to open up to and now he's sharing. Connor smiles, "What was your favorite?"
Connor pulls off the wrapper and shoves it in his pocket, tearing the bar in half. He offers it over, soft granola and strawberry jam. "My favorite, too."
Hank brushes at his beard with his sleeve, "Do it?"
Connor looks at the back of the boat, out onto the ocean.
"Oh… Is that uh, an uncomfortable ask, or?"
"No."
Connor feels his fingers tingle, so curious to see again. "Okay. What can I do to help?"
All in all, Connor thinks he's never been so happy to do grunt work like simply holding a bucket.
"What? No seashell bras?"
Hank laughs louder, "No way in hell! Why would anyone?"
"This is what I get for letting a human around."
"That wasn't a no."
Hank sighs, and a moment later Connor hears him sink into the water.
He lays down propped up on his elbows, "Hi."
"That's sirens, Hank." He reaches over for the crab bucket with a smirk.
"I've never lured anyone into the sea and I got the only smartass in the bunch." Hank snorts, shaking his head,
Connor nods and Hank disappears under again. He counts the minutes on his watch, how long Hank is out of his sight all the way at the ocean floor. He's lulled by the rock of the boat until Hank is breaking the surface.
Connor jumps up and jogs over, looking around before he finds the little waterproof bag. He comes back and hands it to Hank, watching him secure it around his chest, "What kind of shells?"
He finds himself waiting with anticipation for Hank to come back, excited as well.
"Oh, Hank." He turns one over in his hand, feeling along the ridges and cutouts. "These are amazing."
He takes one and produces a cloth from his satchel. With that and the roughness of his hands, the shell is easily found under the grime.
Hank swims some more, talks about a cache of crabs he can pick up at any time, but he likes them fresh to bring back.
Hank pauses, patting his belly while he floats on his back. "Really?"
"Mhmm."
He decides like he had last night, that they're past shyness. It could be… nice. "Yeah, get on in here."
"What the hell is that?" He's barely holding back laughter.
"Someone's being made a fool alright!"
Connor huffs, grimacing even as he enjoys Hank's laugh. His body shakes and makes the water ripple around him. "Sorry I can't be shimmery like you! I like my suit!"
He feels the heat of Hank's hands gradually come through the lining of his suit,
"I know how to swim, I'm good." He promises, smiling, "Maybe not as good a swimmer as you, but I get by."
"What?" His brow furrows, laying his hands over Hank's, "What's wrong?"
"Hank? I'm alright. I can go under, and I can float just fine."
"You need your mouth and nose for air, don't do that."
"Divers. But they had gear, you don't." Hank feels embarrassment creep along the back of his neck, but he's just worried.
"Are you afraid I'm gonna float away?"
He expects the question to be mocking, but it's only soft.
"Or sink." He answers, not meeting his eyes.
He doesn't tell Connor that they just let their babies sink. They lay on the sand in a safe area & get themselves together. Cole flipped himself head over fin,
"We um… usually hold them." He thinks of tethers in turbulent water instead, then the lovers' embrace. He shakes himself out of that one.
But then Connor asks "How? Do that, until you're comfortable."
"I invited myself. The least I can do is make you comfortable."
Hank's heart feels like a beacon out on the water, he's sure it's pounding out confusing vibrations.
"Okay…" he whispers to himself, leaning back to brace Connor to his chest. He gently wraps his tail around one of Connor's legs, and rests a hand on his back.
He doesn't tell that to Connor either, but he waits with bated breath for the shoe to drop on it, as if Connor would somehow know.
"Do you sleep like this?" Connor asks, and Hank almost chokes. "I mean, your tail holding stuff? …Hank, your heart's really fast."
Connor smiles, "Like your blankets."
"Like my blankets, yeah."
He can't stop thinking about Hank's tail trapping his other leg.
He ineffectively distracts himself by asking about Hank's tattoo,
"You have children?" Connor asks, tracing the starfish outline.
Hank lets out a long breath and his fins brush Connors ankle. "Me too."
🔞🔞🔞 nsfw pretty much from here on out 🔞🔞🔞
🌊💕
"Does that hurt?" He asks, hushed concern.
"No." Hank whispers.
Connor swallows hard. /Oh/.
"No." Hank squeezes around his leg a little tighter and Connor's lips brush his neck.
"Hank," his voice purrs against his jaw, nosing at his beard, "Do you want to kiss?"
Connor presses his mouth to Hank's eagerly,
"Hank—" He brings his hand around Hank's side to get to his tail, water rough fingers gliding along the scales.
Connor kisses him again, more heated, confident. His body flushes with want and when Connor rocks against him, he aches for it.
"Where?" Connor pants softly, looking at Hank in the late afternoon sun. All golden, flustered, and arousal hits him like a burning wave. He palms over Hank's hip,
Hank shudders a heavy breath against his cheek, dipping down to mouth at Connor's long neck. Connor groans and squeezes at the swell of his lower belly, "Show me. Hank, that feels /good/."
He shifts his fingers against the slit, thick wetness coating the pads of his fingers.
"Hank," he cups both of Hank's cheeks, pressing hungry kisses to his mouth,
He sounds so full of want, groping Connor's ass and thigh as he pants, "Do you want to…?"
"Yes." Connor feels little fireworks going off in his head at the desperate tone. He reaches to play with Hank's chest,
"Good." Hank kisses him full again, feels Connor shiver when he unwinds his tail from him. That skinny leg is immediately missed, he was getting used to holding Connor in such an intimate way
"Next time."
"Next time I'll learn about how you like being choked, sure."
"Hank!"
Hank pulls himself up on deck and puts Connor onto his back with the sheer weight and want of him.
The drag of Hank's hand down his side has him shivering, which makes Hank gasp as he surveys the goosebumps.
Connor barely gets them off his thighs before Hank's fingers wrap around his cock, startling a yelp from him.
"Is it okay?" He gropes at Hank's chest, sucking ocean water off his neck. He rocks into the odd roughness of Hank's hand, "Do you like it?"
"It's better than okay." Hank pants, trying to curl around Connor, latch to him. "Fuck, you feel good…"
"Connor!" Hank grunts, reaching for him again.
He pulls at his boxers and kicks them away, maneuvering Hank onto his back. He's met with open arms and squeezed him close. He runs his fingers through Hank's hair, straddling his tail while his boxers still hang off one ankle.
Hank shudders and his insides squeeze around Connor's dick. He wraps his tail around his leg again, keeping them in a full embrace.
Hank's hands grope his ass, making sure he doesn't go anywhere.
"Just a little more, just—" he throws his head back, Connor's thrusts turning wild, "Like that, baby. I'm there… I'm there!"
"Oh." He's in awe, watching inch by inch slide out, all wet and thick.
Hank shivers,
He's still coming? Connor feels himself ache, he can't say he's not turned on by that. He leans down and wraps his kiss swollen lips around the tip of Hank's cock,
Hank almost sobs, hand falling to Connor's hair. He's never had a human mouth on him before, the difference astounds him. It's like velvet. "O-Oh… Ah, fuck. Connor, honey, that's—"
He smiles sheepishly and swipes over his chin, dips his fingertips into his mouth. Pulling them back to take a look at the string of Hank's come, Hank groans shakily, "Ah Connor, you're so disgusting."
Another. "I'm an old man, this is your fault."
One more. "How'd you get so beautiful, huh?"
Hank sighs, relaxing his bulk against him. He won't sleep, they should've eaten hours ago and Connor needs a bed. "That a fish joke?"
Hank scoffs at him, but melts into a tender kiss.
They're late back at port almost a week later with their catch, Connor with a limp and hickeys all over his pale neck. Hank hides the ones on his chest and belly much easier. They sell their supply to the inn and a few of Hank's regulars.
Just something to add to the mystery of Hank Anderson.
finally it's done! i'm sorry for spamming everyone's feeds with rushed smut 💙