okokok but what really butters my biscuit... shivers my timbers... younger hankgav who have a one night stand, hank railing into gav holding both his ankles in one of his hands, and just Awed he can get this younger, bendy, twink shithead moaning and writhing under him.
hanks still hot and strapping around 40 yo but i imagine he probably doesn't bed guys often, and certainly not guys who just got out of college. so: ego boost. he's still got game. anyway he writes it off as a one-time thing, i know i've written this out before but hear me out--
so they meet again at the dpd and after a few weeks of bickering and antagonizing and probably a lil bit of hero worship on gavin's end, both of them constantly reminded of the time they met years and years ago at that one jazz club,
just angrily kiss it out, an agreed-upon condition. "maybe if we try it this once, one more time, we'll be done forever! we can get back to our jobs and the asshole remarks will cease! just this once!"
nope. that's not what happens.
they fuck it out in the car, and then at gavin's place. still, there's that bickering, but it's laced with hidden understanding. that agreement keeps getting an extended deadline. for years.
its barely even fwb because sometimes they can't stand each other. gavin's too brazen, reckless, and hank's his superior who's too calculated and stubborn sometimes. hank gets married, has a son, falls apart.
gavin doesn't know if it's his place to comfort him. he wants to, desperately, but wonders if the ravine between them has grown too deep. he knows that he himself has grown too hard and mean, can barely keep any relationship stable.
after the revolution, after connor, hank improves. gavin straggles behind, yearning, almost jealous of hanks and connors excellent working relationship. it takes a hard dizzying realization on the floor of a wet alley with bruised ribs and a bleeding lip for gavin to get it.
he wants to be better. wants to earn hank's approval again, to not necessarily go back to the way things were but to have him in his life again, in some shape or form. he's 36 and he's realizing that he's always loved hank, even through the asshole remarks.
and hank, well. there's been a part of him he's smothered for awhile that always leaned in gavin's direction, but with healing comes recognizing that that part can't wither so easily. not when gavin stops coming in with bruises under his eyes, participating in the dpd camaraderie
he's still got that wild streak that's somehow always charmed him, hook line and sinker. gavin experiments with his facial hair, growing it out, wearing different shirts. dressing nicer. it gives hank a bit of courage to cut his mop of hair shorter.
his heart titters again when gavin gives him a wayward comment, like old times, but framing that crooked smirk is a dark beard, and god, when did gavin look like /that/? hank remembers what that ass looks like, even snug in those jeans. remembers what it looks like reddened.
he stops himself from getting further with those thoughts every time. gavin and nines are partners now, and probably more than that. hank's nearing 54 and that time's come and gone, gavin's still got time.
but. when gavin asks if hank wants to stop and get drinks after work one night, he agrees easily. too easily. he's got his lieutenant paperwork to finish, and gavin's surely putting off his pre-sergeant stuff, but he wants to. he wants to go.
gavin doesn't bring him to jimmy's, or any other hole in the wall place. he brings hank to that jazz club, and sure as shit, one of his favorite house bands is playing. looking at gavin, the kid totally planned it. hank laughs, and lets his hand settle on the small of his back.
gavin lights up like the stage lights. golden and beaming.
they drink their bourbons, always having had the same tastes, but not enough to get tipsy. gavin knows that hank doesn't drink much anymore, but he's happy he's comfortable. ecstatic.
gavins cheeks always got a little rosy even after a single shot, and hank is secretly delighted to see it dust his cheekbones, how it slips past the delicate soft line of his beard. jesus, he looks good. hank finds he's nervously brushing his flop of hair over his forehead often.
gavin can't seem to take his eyes away from hank, pleased beyond all belief that connor's convinced hank to buy less obnoxious, dollar store shirts. hank's always looked so goddamn handsome in red, and tonight isn't any different.
gavin was a bit shy at first, unsure of how hank would take stock of the jazz club (their jazz club), but he's relieved it's going so well. he gets emboldened. a dangerous thing for him, but usually, in the past with hank, it turned out okay. it's worth a shot.
gavin slips his hand into hank's larger, rougher one, looking at him with a raised brow, and tugs him out of the booth. neither of them were dancers, couldn't hope to jig like some of the others here, but... for old times' sake, he takes him out to the floor.
hank sputters and offers meager complaints about the years gone by and his lack of practice, but gavin's in the same boat as him. both of their hands are sweating, but the low golden lighting and reddish hues of the club keep it from being too noticeable.
it's a slow set, not too many fast beats, but enough to keep them swaying and twisting around and side to side. turns out hank's picked up the moves like an old thread, leading gavin along like nothing's happened.
gavin wonders what sort of timeline he stepped into, if the changes he made to better himself are enough to earn this, if he needs to somehow prove it further. but, he can't help his grin from spreading across his face, making his cheeks hurt.
hank looks so good, his haircut slicked back mostly but some grey pieces are tickling his forehead. he's tall and broad and steady, big hands on gavin's back leading him effortlessly. gavin almost laughs when he realizes hank's cologne is the same, but it's mostly a comfort.
(god this got so far ahead of me sorry it'll get horni i swear my life on it)
gavin's heart rackets against his ribs and his throat goes dry. hank's easy smile disarms him, the saxophone and piano and the warbling tune of the troupe of singers turns his bones into honey. gavin brings his palm up to hank's neck,
letting his fingers tickle the short hairs on his nape. words catch in his throat, even if it is too loud to hear any proper sort of words. hanks eyes flicker over over his face and an understanding passes between them. hank presses a kiss to gavin's brow.
"should we get out of here?" he whispers into gavin's ear, and god that voice, raspy and low and charged with a familiarity, lights his blood on fire.
"yes. please," gavin doesn't think he's ever said please so easily in his life.
the air is cool outside compared to the cigar-smoke warmth of the club, even though the humid summer heat hasn't quite faded, lingering on the pavement. they had let the time get away with them; it's almost midnight.
hank expected the urgency to taper off outside of that heated closeness, away from the low lights and how gavin's lips parted when hank's hand tightened on his back. he expected things to turn to normal, for gavin to joke about--anything.
he doesn't, though. he holds hank's hand tight, close to his side, and follows in step next to him. hank wonders if they've ever held hands like this before, just a thing forgotten? gavin's always pulled away so quickly, like he might get burned.
it makes hank's head spin a little, like cotton's filled his ears. his heart feels like it's lodged his his throat, and he can't help but think gavin's gotten himself into something he can't back out of. he's seen it before.
"gavin, look..." hank starts, next to his car now. neither of them had said a damn thing. why does it feel like he's choked up on his tongue? his arms shake with nerves. he doesn't want to let gavin go, wants to cling to him, feel his smaller frame pressed up to his, safe.
he wants that wide-eyed look again, like hank's said something worthwhile, like he still... still feels the same, even if those feelings weren't ever given a proper name, but hank knows what his mean. he knows what he feels for gavin still burns through him electrically.
before he can talk himself in a circle, gavin's got his hands curled around his sweaty, pressed shirt collar, tugging him forward as he walks backwards. gavin leans himself against his car door, exhaling a shaky breath under the neon signs.
"don't. come back with me, hank. i-i...," he breathes out, voice thick with want, hazel eyes flickering over hank's face looking for an unspoken answer. it's like something inside of him cracked open, finally, after years of trouble, years of fighting.
like he's finally letting himself admit to his desires. its a beautiful thing to witness, and hank shudders at the sight of it, knowing that it's because of him, knowing he's been in similar straits, and knowing that he can take care of him.
hank drags his fingers across gavin's jaw, marveling not for the first time how fucking good that beard looks on him, before letting his thumb press to the underside to tilt his face up for a deep, heavy kiss.
hank tugs gavin's hips forward by a belt loop, and gavin's hands haul him forward still by his grip on his shirt before flattening out over his chest, letting his fingers skate across the expanse, over broad shoulders.
gavin moans shamelessly into hank's mouth and it nearly incapacitates him, makes his hands grip gavin's waist, softer than he remembers, and press him back into the car because he can, because he had always loved pining the spitfire dickhead down, and he still does.
before gavin can get too brazen, hank nips his lower lip and pulls away, sharing breath between them as he smirks. gavin's immobilized for a few moments, blinking his eyes open slowly, panting. and then his wet mouth is smirking and hank's mirroring him.
"your place?" hank asks, thumbing gavin's chin.
"my place," he answers, voice hoarse already, and straightens out hank's collar, but undoes one of the buttons for good measure.
hank would drive more responsibly if gavin hadn't cranked up the radio to one of the songs they used to listen to on lunch breaks, sharing a strawberry milkshake. he's made a bit reckless by gavin harping to the lyrics, a little out of pitch but not half bad.
he's made a little brash by gavin's windswept hair by the open window, how carefree and delighted he looks in the passenger seat, like no troubled waters passed under the bridge at all. or perhaps steeled and improved by them, maybe.
either way, hank drives one-handed and certainly doesn't stop long enough at stop signs while he's got one hand on gavin's thigh. "we're cops," gavin had always said, and hank had refuted him, probably called him an idiot.
there's merit, though, when he gets a rippling laugh out of gavin for taking a turn too quick on purpose, grinning when he earns a half-hearted punch to the shoulder. he wishes it had always been this easy, between them, if life hadn't muddled shit right up.
he pulls up to gavin's place, a townhouse now, different than the rundown flat they used to meet up in. his is the one on the end of the block, and the porch light is on. the way things have changed hits hank right in the chest again.
"hey," gavin says, softly, the radio turned down. "i'm sure the girls still remember you," he adds, holding hank's wrist where his hand is gripping his thigh.
"you think?" hank acquiesces, thumbing his own shorter beard, nearly shaved thin around his cheeks.
"i look different, now. smell like dog, too," he says, only noticing now the nervous tilt to his words underneath.
"sure, all those things. still you, though. animals are good like that," gavin murmurs, and he looks just as nervous as hank feels.
they head inside, and it's a nice place. gavin's done work on it, letting out the exposed brick, staining the wood floors darker. there isn't much flair but it suits him, and hank likes it immensely. and sure enough, gavin's two cats rub up on his legs, sniffing his offered hand.
"told you," gavin says smugly as margot chirps up at hank, pressing her face into his palm.
"unbelievable," hank winks, and then he's unsure what to do, or say, or act. this whole night turned out in a way he never expected, life always throwing out a loop.
it's quiet between them, the house doubly so after the excitement of the club, the car. hank spies an old record player, a milkcrate of records on the shelf next to it. gavin tells him to pick something while he goes to get them something to drink.
hank flips through the collection, recognizing a few. his and gavin's music tastes weren't always the same but they did overlap, jazz being one of them. gavin favored the more up-beat artists, but hank finds one to fit the hour.
"i haven't listened to this one in a while," gavin says when he appears at hank's side, offering up a bottle of water. hank thanks him, taking note of the unsure tilt of his mouth, how his eyes wander.
hank takes a long drink before capping his bottle, and before he can think too hard, sweeps gavin back into his arms again. the man is clearly surprised, depositing his own bottle on the couch as an afterthought, scrambling to get back into step. hank watches his cheeks pinken.
"thanks for asking me out tonight," hank murmurs after a few minutes of easy stepping, holding gavin's hand close rather than out like they had done before. no need for impressing, now.
"yeah. of course," gavin breathes out. its so easy to get him flustered.
hank swallows, clears his throat. he had forgotten about the thick sweep of gavin's lashes until he gets to see them up close like this, in a different light.
"i wanted to. for a long time," gavin says, quiet and so achingly unsure, his arm around hank's waist tightening.
like he still doesn't want to let him go. something around hank's heart tightens, and then loosens altogether, like a thread was cut. hank winds his arm around gavin, until there's no space left, craning his neck to press his mouth to the crown of his messy hair.
"didn't even know how much i missed you," he whispers, kissing down his temple. "i wish it had been different, sometimes. wish i didn't screw things up."
"hank," gavin presses, leaning up into his kisses. "you didn't. we both did. shit was different, now it's..."
"it's better now. we're good. and i... you mean... fuck," gavin growls under his breath, but he still clutches to hank, laying a hand over his chest, turning to kiss hank's jaw. "god," he exhales, and it sounds almost watery. "i've missed you, too."
"i've missed you, hank. everything. it was never--solid between us, i know, but..." gavin's hand curls into his shirt, taking a trembling inhale that affects hank more than he expects. "fuck. i've always wanted it. like old times, but now. sorry, i'm not making any sense..."
gavin huffs a laugh and hides his face in hank's neck, but he can feel the dampness that clings to his lashes. it shouldn't, but it makes hank smile, a bit wobbly. he lets go of gavin's hand, now standing still on his living room rug, and tilts his face up like he had before.
"gavin," he says, voice pitched low, secret. strokes a thumb over an old scar on his cheekbone, over the old freckles there. "you've never made any damn sense."
before hank can even finish what poorly disguised love declaration he was going to add next, gavin's swinging his arms around his neck and kissing him hard, uncoordinated. their teeth clack before they can get their lips together, hank's tingling from mouthing his mustache.
and then tingle in a different way, when gavin sucks the breath from his lungs, mapping out the back of his teeth, tasting out the swill of bourbon. he's tugging gavin's shirt out from his pants before he can stop himself, nibbling on his lip.
gavin's nimble fingers make quick work of his shirt, starting to walk them backward somewhere. "bed--bedroom's this way," he says in between slippery kisses, hands always moving, always grappling and searching. ett/a james lingers on down the hall.
buttoned shirts discarded along the way, hank pushes gavin against the wall, letting his hands slip up his white t-shirt, finding the toned abs of his youth softened, pliable. it makes hank groan into his mouth, hungry to discover what else has changed.
gavin notes hank's pause around his hips with a pout and mock indignation. that crooked smirk against hank's neck. "i'm sick of going to the gym four days a week, old man. you, though..." he hums, hands pressing into hank's sides.
he hasn't slimmed much since his nosedive off the deep end but he's more fit, now, he supposes. more muscle underneath all the padding. hank's heart flips upside down when gavin only pulls him closer, hauls his t-shirt over his head to smatter biting kisses across his collarbone.
hank's spine shudders and warmth blossoms in his stomach when gavin slips a thigh between his own and rocks against him. he's always been so squirmy, wiggling, always moving and hank sometimes just wanted him to slow the hell down. it seems that hasn't changed, either.
hank isn't too inclined to go slow, though.
he holds gavin's waist in his hands, skating his palms up his ribcage to thumb those dusky pink nipples, pushing his shirt up as he goes. he demands gavin's mouth, kissing him fervently, until all gavin can do is focus on him.
"that's good, gavin. get yourself hard for me," hank murmurs, pressing a hand to the small of his back, right above the curve of his ass. gavin gasps, rocking on hank's thigh, and hank slips his hand down the back of his pants.
[#nsfw #hankgav #hankvin #gavhank from here on out folks 😎 brb though]
gavin grinds both into the firm, unyielding pressure of hank's thigh and his wide palm, greedy and moaning sweet little sounds into hank's mouth, clutching his biceps. "oh, shit..." gavin whines, tilting his head back against the wall.
he was halfway to hard before he ever got his hands on hank's thick chest, got his fingers through the patch of hair and the old faded tattoo he could map out in his sleep, but now he's filled out, pressing against the fly of his jeans.
"c'mon... room's literally--right there...," he gestures to the door next to them, pushed open by the cats. "don't need an update on how to fuck me, do you?" he teases, their lips brushing, a little more ticklish now with the facial hair between the two of them.
hank damn near growls as he pulls gavin close, biting down his neck, making sure to rub his mouth in, leave a mark. gavin always liked the burn afterward (and hank is curious to know what it feels like, too).
"still a mouthy brat, huh?" he hums into his shoulder.
"only when i don't get what i want," gavin chuckles, hand cupping hank through his trousers, molding out the thickness of him through the fabric and squeezing. goddamn this man. hank bucks into his hand unabashedly.
"good thing you're easy," hank says with a smugly raised brow, delighting in gavin's scandalized guffaw, and brings his legs around his hips. even though he's quite strong gavin isn't exactly light, so he prays his bed is close as he walks them into his room blindly,
only helped by the low silvery moonlight filtering through the curtains. dropping gavin onto his bed, he's pleased to find that his face has gone ruddy, eyes blown wide and lips swollen, shiny red. hank doesn't spend much time looking, too eager to taste, to wreck.
the thing that's always been between them but unspoken, too unwieldy to put into words, was the age difference between them. when they met, gavin had been a rookie on beat routes, and hank on his way to lieutenant, almost 18 years his senior. hank didn't want to call it... kinky.
because it wasn't. isn't. but in a way it was--is--because of the difference. the first time might've been a toe dip into kinky but then it faded, and it was just them. used to be a top/bottom thing, and then it wasn't--not until gavin proved once he knew how to take hank apart.
it's still strange to wrap his head around, but hank's getting that rush all over again, watching gavin peel his jeans off his legs, grabbing for the button on hank's. he's teeming with urgency, always moving, looking, expressing. gavin's not young anymore, but he looks it.
and hank has experience. he has the years to prove it. maybe not so much, lately, but gavin hasn't exactly been bed hopping either, as far as he knows. hank knows his own presence well, and how to use it, and gavin could never match it. he supposes that's what he likes.
"lay back, sweetheart," hank interrupts, before gavin can pull down his trousers, using a firm grip on his jaw to direct his attention to him.
"but hank..." gavin wheedles, eyes flicking down to the obvious bulge between his legs.
ah, yes. hank had forgotten about gavin's overt enthusiasm for his cock. hank suppresses an outright, incredulous grin. another time.
"let me take care of you. c'mon." he nods toward the pillows. gavin huffs and flops back onto them, laying a hand close to his hip teasingly.
damn. he is a sight to see, in this blueish hued light from the windows, lain out lazily, enticingly but without the forethought. effortless. hank's stomach does a flip, watching gavin bite his lip.
"just gonna stare all night? thought you had a bed time," gavin quips, but the heat of the last few years is gone, replaced with warmth and fondness that's so obvious hank feels dizzy with it. he slides off the edge of the bed almost bashfully, pushing his trousers off his hips.
"might stare all night, yeah. might take all night, too," hank replies, honey smooth, and marvels in the way gavin's brows push up his forehead, how his legs open for him as he crawls up the bed. "thought that's what you wanted?"
"hell yeah it is," gavin replies, reaching for him, restless hands pulling hank closer for a heated, heavy kiss that turns gavin boneless against the sheets. hank threads a hand through his hair and pulls it back, smearing kisses down the column of his neck.
[ffffuck i gotta get some shut eye but pls enjoy this for tonite!! will revist tomorrow 😎💦]
tweet continues here! didn't think it'd be a problem but twit continues to delight 😎👌
the first time they fucked, gavin felt on top of the world. he hadn't gone into that jazz club nearly 10 years ago hoping to get the best lay of his life, but he did, and he was so much older, experienced. he'd be a liar if he said it didn't color every incident after.
he'd also be a liar if he said hank didn't indirectly ruin every damn one of his relationships. gavin was never able to put both feet in, jump headfirst, not with any woman or any man. some part of him he couldn't smother held on to him, no matter how much gavin tried.
now, with hank's attention on him, his hands on him, his mouth and his body and his warmth, it feels like he's being turned inside out. it's been so long since he's let himself bare, but with hank, the history between them... it feels right. like a circle closed.
gavin's vision fizzles on the edges when hank pulls on his hair, bites kisses down his neck, easily pulling a grating moan from deep within his chest. gavin presses his hands to hank's back, digs his fingers in, rocking his hips up impatiently. he's hard as a fucking diamond.
"hank," he keens hoarsely, bringing his knees up to clutch him closer. "c'mon. i want you. it's been so--so fucking long. hank..."
it takes hank a moment to get his wits about him, since it's been a long, long time since he's heard his name like that, from that mouth, in that pitch. kid's playing him like a fiddle.
he lets his grip on gavin's hair slacken, for now, wanting to test out one of two things. he curves his palm over the front of gavin's neck, hardly applying pressure but the result is instantaneous. gavin's lashes flutter and a broken little moan pushes past his lips. fuck.
"beautiful," hank murmurs, curling his fingers a little, digging his thumb under the bend of his jaw, right over the bloodflow. just for a moment. "still like that, huh?" he says with a hint of awe, dick throbbing in his boxer briefs. that had been a thing hank found he liked.
had only ever been able to try it with gavin, however. it was one of the other things he missed about the man underneath him.
for the second thing, hank reaches for the pillows, digging underneath. hoping past experiences continue to prove themselves in longevity.
hank pulls out the bottle of lube triumphantly, and the roll of gavin's eyes makes him laugh. "god, you're awful. think you're so clever," gavin huffs, but hank can see the little twinkle there, gavin's hand coming up to push his grey hair back behind his ear.
just that little gesture, the smallest bit of affection, nearly unravels him. hank swallows against the tightness in his throat, smiling a shade crookedly, but doesn't let the feeling take over. he still wants to see gavin shake apart under his hands.
he lifts a brow and yanks gavin's boxers off his legs without preamble, sinking his mouth to a dusky nipple. if there was anything hank knew about gavin, it easiest to shut him up with action rather than with words. he sucks, hard, laving a tongue around the bud,
letting his free hand skate down dip of his belly, the soft swell of his lower stomach, his blood thrumming at the humanness of him, the tangibility of his smooth skin, dappled here and there with scars, brown hair. he knows, he knows, but he missed him. missed this.
hank just transmutes it through his touch, dragging a wet mouth to the other nipple, savoring the raspy moans and urgent twitch of gavin's hips as he slides a hand past his cock. gavin makes a grunt of displeasure until hank pushes his thigh aside,
dusting fingers through the sensitive inner crease of his hip. "hank, c'mon, c'mon, enough teasing..." gavin complains but hank only gives his nipple a pointed bite, sucking it up and letting it drop to his chest, admiring the soft jiggle.
he gets it, now. why some people wanted to pull on his sides and watch him bounce in their lap. hank's vision crackles just at the mere thought of gavin, what he'd look like taking his cock backwards, how he'd arch into it like the first time but now with so many places to grip.
fuck, he might just do it. only for sex and perp chases does hank really roll with the punches.
hank hums, "i know it's been a long time, baby, you're so worked up," he says, thumbing the swollen bud, shiny with spit. gavin makes a choked nose and squeezes his eyes shut.
smirking and satisfied, hank coats his palm with lube, and finally gets his hand around gavin's flushed cock. gavin cries out and bucks up into his fist, but hank easily subdues him with his hip, leans a little sideways. he sucks bruises into one side of gavin's chest,
before doing the same to the other, marveling in how he fills his palm now, almost perky with his nipples swollen. "so hot," hank murmurs on his way back up to gavin's mouth, "so good for me. just take it, gav."
that little nickname so few people call him makes him keen, only to smother it with his knuckles. hank gently pries his fingers away, pairing it with a stroke and squeeze of his fist to the head of him, so slick and wet his palm makes wet squelching noises.
gavin's lips are bitten and red when hank kisses him almost sweetly. "you've never hidden away from me, don't start now. let me hear you," hank smiles, only to swallow the next moan, feel it vibrate into his mouth, as he thumbs the head of gavin's cock, tracing the ridge.
"oh, fuck, hank! hank, please, god, i need it," gavin bursts as soon as he moves for breath, hands flying over hank's sides, his shoulders, leaving burning trails behind. just as hank feels the tell-tale tremble of his thighs, he lets him go, much to his lover's complaint.
hank flips gavin onto his stomach, shushing him the whole while, and also trying to pull his shit together because he realizes a little too late his hands are trembling. not from nerves, no, but that electric brazenness that he could have only picked up from one person.
and the sight was exactly as he imagined. hank's hand flies automatically to his own throbbing cock, still tucked away in his briefs, just watching gavin's hands come up to fist the bed sheets, too damn lazy or weak or whatever to get to his elbows. maybe he's doing it on purpose
[mmm i'll continue this tomorrow, it's been A Day. enjoy slut gavin for the time being 😉]
when gavin gives his hips a little shake, hank grunts in approval, squeezing his own cock and letting his free hand trace the dip of gavin's spine. then, he sees his smirk, the smug arch of his brow. what a shithead.
"look at you," hank murmurs, using both hands to grip gavin's hips, yanking him down the bed until the backs of his thighs meet hanks, ass still up in the air. he feels a thrill rush through him at gavin's yelp of surprise, showing his strength like that. damn fuckin' right.
"you know...," hank starts, thumbing the dimples in gavin's lower back, watching how his skin wrinkles as he drags his palms up, pushing his chest down into the bed. "this reminds me of the first time, years ago. had you just like this."
"hank," gavin warns, using a pillow to cushion the side of his face, tucking his arms underneath. he spreads his knees a little, pushing back against hank and trying to rub against his clothed dick but the way hank has him pushed down doesn't help. "no time for reminiscing...,"
hank hums in agreement but he doesn't hurry, thumbing the moles and freckles across his shoulder blades, leaning down and kissing a few. he slowly grinds into gavin's ass, knowing there's a wet spot in the fabric but he doesn't care.
there's a million things hank could say about how glad he is that things have changed between them, that they're both better people now than they ever were a decade ago despite the heartache and tragedy. they've stood the tests of time and here hank is, in gavin's bed,
allowed to touch and kiss and spoil, allowed to treat him better than he ever did, to give rather than take. he's never been a selfish lover, but with gavin, sometimes, there had been an imbalance, demands, from both of them. it was fine, but it's not what hank wants right now.
he noses along the nape of gavin's neck, dragging his beard, his teeth. "gonna fuck you so good, gavin. make you feel it tomorrow," hank whispers, and bringing a hand down, he pushes gavin's thigh apart, pinching the soft skin, gripping it. "how's that sound?"
"fuckin' yes," gavin hisses, just as hank reaches up and grips his jaw, tilting his face up and sideways for a biting, wet kiss. gavin moans into his mouth when hanks other hand finds his cock again, stroking him loosely, and he nips on gavin's bottom lip to keep from grinning.
"that's what i thought," hank says as he pulls away, picking up the lube.
"finally...," gavin breathes out, watching as hank dribbles some onto his fingers, looking blitzed and hazy already. his shoulders are flushed a lovely russet, nearly matching the color on his cheekbones.
when hank's fingers slip between his cheeks, from the top to the space behind his balls, gavin rolls into it. "god, gav. just relax," hank huffs a laugh, feeling a hot spike of arousal grip his dick but he can't take his eyes away, watching the slow, almost sensual way he moves.
"oh, i am relaxed. height of relaxation," gavin replies cheekily, eyes closed but that damned smirk remains.
hank circles his thumb around his pucker, massaging and smearing a liberal amount of lube there, smearing kisses down gavin's spine as he works.
then, just before gavin's next snarky quip, hank presses his fingers to that space and pops the first knuckle of his thumb inside, holding him in the large cradle of his hand. gavin's watery gasp and subsequent moan sets hank's skin tingling, watching gavin fist the pillow.
"i meant what i said earlier," hank hums, working his thumb around the rim, into his soft walls, pressing and kneading his fingers. "said i was gonna take care of you."
"c-c'mon, hank, just--just fuck...,"
"what was that?"
gavin sputters when hank drags his fingers up again.
"i need more, c'mon...,"
"what do you say?" hank goads, because he does want to spoil gavin, but also kind of maybe wants to hear him plead for it a little. he's always been so lovely when he asks nicely.
"fuck," gavin groans, furrowing his brows at hank hovering over him.
"eventually," hank teases, cupping him again, but pressing his thumb inside as far as the angle will allow. "just a bit more."
if gavin's beard wasn't as dark as it was, hank imagines he'd see his jaw flex, swallowing down a groan that still vibrates through his chest.
hank's free hand pushes gavin's messy hair from his sweaty forehead, skating down the arch of his back to grip his waist again, admiring for the tenth time how gorgeous he looks, skin softly dimpling between his fingers. hank gives a bit of mercy and leans back onto his heels,
using the same hand to spread his cheeks apart. the lube is shiny in the light, dripping, but gavin is flushed head to toe and his hole is a lovely dusky pink. he's able to easily slide two fingers in, groaning as he watches gavin take them, mouth falling open on a whine.
"ha-ank," gavin exhales, the tension sloughing off his shoulders. "f-forgot about your hands. huge fingers. feels so fuckin' good...," he says halfway to himself, peeking a hazy green eye open. "please, more. i'm good. i'm so fucking good."
hank digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he works his fingers inside him, tugging on his rim, massaging downward at an angle, keeping one hand on his cheek, rubbing it red before smacking his palm across it. he swears when gavin yelps out a moan his dick weeps more precum.
looking down and, yup, sure as shit, his briefs are damn near glistening where his head pushes up like a goddamn tent pole. to take his attention away from it, he slaps gavin's ass again, just to be distracted by the shake as the strike is absorbed, and gavin's sweet keening.
"you are a good boy," hank agrees, gritty, voice low and husky, pumping his fingers in deep, working in another one. "wanna hear more from you, baby. just listening to you is getting me all keyed up. don't you want my cock?"
there's a dark patch forming underneath gavin's mouth on the pillow, hank notices, when gavin nods frantically, and he's already messed his hair up. fondness and affection burst in hank's chest even as he's ready to fuck the man's brains out.
gavin's babbling garbled pleas in under two minutes when hank gets three fingers comfortably inside him, a fourth tickling his stretched and puffy rim. sweat beads on his back, still in that delicious curve, and hank wonders how he's managed to stay like that.
hank finally pushes off his briefs and takes himself in hand, shivering as he twists his slick, lubed fist around his girth. it's so easily to slide his cock between his cheeks, thrusting almost lazily over the slick mess he's made of gavin,
wrapping an arm around his waist to feel how hard he still is, dripping onto the bed sheets. messy, messy. he loves that.
"c'mon, gav...," hank croons, nipping his shoulder, the head of his cock catching on the rim and he feels more than sees gavin shudder underneath him.
"please, hank! goddamn it, i'm fuckin--so ready, please...," gavin croaks, turning his face to hank, scrambling for his hand that's pressed into the bed, clutching his wrist desperately. "fuck me, please. told you s'been a long time. i'm gonna lose my mind."
gavin's voice is rough, almost quiet, in his confession, shyly looking at hank through his lashes. it takes him by surprise, even more so when gavin twists halfway around underneath hank, shoulders mostly pressed to the bed, but his hips perpendicular to it.
"i know," hank murmurs, a little distracted in his admiration, knowing that he feels the same, too. his cock nudges gavin's plush ass aimlessly but he takes an indulgent moment to kiss him fully, hand cupping his fuzzy jaw. "god, i've wanted you," he says in between breaths.
hank grips the back of gavin's uppermost thigh, pushing up the bed near his chest, other hand too busy wandering the supple curves over his thighs, hips, his ass. more than a little distracted, because he groans into gavin's mouth when his hand wraps around his cock,
wet with lube, guiding him. its the easiest thing in the world to push into gavin, the both of them more or less brushing lips as the night slows momentarily, caught in the sensation all over again. gavin's still tight, but he accepts hank beautifully, and hank goes slow.
finally bottomed out, hank realizes his hand's tangled in the back of gavin's head, and gavin's got a hand pressed to his chest, surely feeling his racing heart.
"ohh," gavin exhales, and it shudders past his reddened lips like a revelation.
"gavin," hank hums, voice tight, blinking dazedly at the man below him.
"please. hank," gavin whispers, and it brings hank back to himself, drawing his hips back slowly before thrusting in at a steady pace, keeping their brows pressed together.
gavin doesn't try to quiet himself, and hank doesn't hold back for much longer. as soon as gavin's throwing his head back in a long-winded moan, hanks got his mouth pressed to his throat, thumbing the curve of it.
gavin's nails are in his shoulders, hands in his hair, unable to do much else than take every sharp thrust hank gives. he's thankful for his pile of pillows to keep his head from knocking into the headboard, the very same thing which clacks against the wall every now and then.
he kind of hopes hank can't tell how much non-action his mattress hasn't seen except for himself these last few years, because the fucking thing creaks on each deep heave that gavin swears he can feel up his throat. it's kind of hot, though, the punctuated tune.
and he'd be an idiot if he complained about the sight. hank's wide shoulders hovering above him, his beard scratching all down his throat and collarbone, palming and cupping his chest, his ass, like he was a ripe mango. he's almost glad his thigh is in the way of jerking himself,
so he can last longer, savor this, enjoy the thick drag of hank inside him and without, filling him up to the goddamn brim. if he could get his words strung together right he'd tell him. "h-hank, fuck! oh god," he keeps sobbing.
"that's it, gav, shit. take me so good," hank groans, squeezing the back of gavin's knee, and if gavin's vision wasn't already watery he'd see the idea pop behind hank's eyes.
his knee is pulled up just as hank buries himself to the root, resting over a shoulder, and the other is tugged up and around an elbow. he's spread open, cleaved apart, and hank hadn't even left despite how fucked and loose and slippery he is.
gavin almost comes right there. hank witnesses the near tipping over, looking entirely too smug with himself. "what? i stretch every day, dude," gavin says, a huge lie, though he can't muster the annoyance his words usually carry.
"do you?" hank asks but he's not looking for an answer, rolling his hips back and forward, watching him. "you like this?"
"fuck," gavin whines, loving and hating the attention, the exposure. "yes! fuck, yes, hank, you're so--so deep..."
that flicks a switch. hank pounds into him, thighs slapping against his ass, making gavin's feet bob in the air at the relentless pace. he ducks down and sucks another bruise into gavin's neck, bending him and holding him steady at once.
"touch yourself, gav. i know you're close," hank says throaty and tight like he's on the verge himself, and gavin's never acted quicker. he feels himself flutter around hank as he grips himself, distantly realizing the mess of precum on his stomach, and squeezes.
he comes, hard, vision fizzling on the edges as blinding, warm numbness makes his limbs shudder, his spine melt. halfway through hank's burying a drawn out moan into his neck, grinding his cock inside as he follows over the edge, giving little jerks of his hips to chase it.
some moments pass, maybe a few, a dozen, before hank's lifting up his head and dragging his whiskery mouth to gavin's to kiss him deeply, achingly tender. he moves his arm so gavin's leg can drop to the bed, smoothing his palm up gavin's jaw, into his hair,
and it's then that he realizes that tears have made the edges of his eyes tacky. gavin feels overwarm from embarrassment but hank only rubs the tear tracks away with his thumbs, softly licking his lips, absently tracing the shell of his ear. just from this, gavin could come again
hank starts to pull away, giving gavin shorter kisses, but in a burst of panic he clutches at hank's wrists. "wait, don't go. don't go."
hank stills, and how those big hands ever learned to be so gentle is a question for the universe."i'll stay, sweetheart. as long as you need."
gavin surges upward, wincing when his leg slips from hank's shoulder but the cramping passes quickly, shivering instead when his softening cock unplugs his release inside, dribbling onto his thighs as he rolls to his side, pushing hank onto the bed.
"thank you," he whispers into hank's lips, curling himself up against hank's broad chest. "i-i..." he swallows thickly, keeping his eyes closed as if that'll help the words come easier. hank waits patiently, tracing idle patterns up his spine, circles his lower back.
"i don't want this to just be... this. you're fucking incredible in bed, obviously, but, like...," gavin sighs shakily, wrapping an arm around hank's thick waist. "you're just... incredible. good. and i want..." he sighs again, letting their temples press together.
hank bites down a smile until he realizes that's stupid, though he understands exactly what gavin's trying to say. words are hard sometimes, but his cues he's always picked up on. "i want what you want, gavin. i think it's... right, for us. it's time. if... if you'll have me."
gavin pulls his face away to look into hank's shining blues, feeling all sorts of topsy-turvy as he looks back. the same sentiment reflected back, unspoken and unsaid but there all the same, and understood. gavin nearly bursts with it.
"i'll have you. fuck, i'll--" he silences himself with another kiss, tasting hank's laugh on his tongue.
later, clean and huddled up like a pair of kittens under the covers, they sleep until mid morning. hank brings sumo over during the weekend, and looks at realtors. it was a long time coming, but they finally step to the right tune, together.

fin 🌟
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