Disclaimer: I own nothing.

LITTLE USE

Hunter was made up of different touches. It was strange but Fitz was learning them, he wanted to. Hunter wasn't tactile with everybody; in a fight, in a life-threatened situation, as part of a cover, yes. But outside of that he didn't touch people easily. He touched Fitz a lot though.

It began before they started sleeping together. Fitz noticed how Hunter would deliberately stand in his personal space so that Fitz could feel the warmth of his breath, only for a moment or two, then Hunter would be gone. It was like he was testing the water. Fitz grazed a hand across his own cheek, memorising how Hunter's breath had felt, the heat he had radiated.

Fitz watched Hunter when he could, analysing his behaviour. He didn't mind Hunter being that close, he realised, when Mack offered to talk to Hunter about respecting personal space, if that was what Fitz wanted. Fitz didn't. Mack nodded and changed the subject.

Hunter brushed a hand to Fitz's back as he spoke to him; he momentarily rested a shoulder against Fitz's. They were light brief touches but Fitz felt them. He was incredibly aware of them, of the drag of connection between him and Hunter. Sometimes he skittered away from them, curling into himself, focusing all his attention on his work and not looking at Hunter once. He did often press into Hunter's touch though, for at least a moment or two.

He couldn't say why. He could think it, mostly. Hunter had been honest from the start – he didn't care about the bigger picture, he was only interested in getting paid. He was still there though, still working for SHIELD, despite the kind of danger that he always claimed he only dove into when richly compensated. And the way Hunter treated Fitz, it was a relief sometimes, the teasing, the way he accepted the gaps in Fitz's words and thought processes as just part of who Fitz was because Hunter hadn't known him be any different. Hunter accepted him.

Skye kept giving Fitz Significant Looks, sometimes he didn't know why. Sometimes he thought about when he would have given so much for her to look at him in such an intent way.

Hunter's touches sometimes became firmer. He would linger next to Fitz, nudging to include him in a joke or standing so close that their sides pressed intentionally together. When Fitz moved away, Hunter rarely pursued him. It was...comforting, having that mix of closeness and room to breathe. Mack behaved in a similar way towards Fitz, but Fitz didn't react to him in the same way that he reacted to Hunter. Sometimes that was why Fitz pulled away; because of his body's reaction to Hunter's closeness. He didn't want to give anyone another reason to stare and laugh.

He frequently squirrelled himself away, needing solace, needing to palm his own cock. His thoughts seemed brighter then, vibrant in a way that he craved more of. And the release was immense. He bit his other hand, enjoying the sensation, trying to keep hold of every last morsel of it. It was a clarity that was way too elusive now. He focused his thoughts on Hunter more often during those times; it always yielded positive results.

Jemma had noticed Hunter's attentions and Fitz's reactions to him. She gave him Significant Looks too but they were different from Skye's. Jemma was tentative and careful, scrutinising both Fitz and Hunter. She looked like she wanted to venture an opinion, sometimes she did.

"He's very-."

"Yes. Yes, he is."

"I don't know him but I don't think anyone does, except Bobbi and-."

"And she recommended him to Coulson."

Jemma liked Bobbi Morse, maybe that was why she was cautious about Hunter. Fitz understood why, he just didn't like the prickle it gave him up his spine or how it stiffened his shoulders. It was another reason for him to avoid Jemma.

The endearments that tumbled out of Hunter so easily softened Fitz's posture. Hunter called almost everybody mate or love, but they sounded different when he was addressing Fitz. He said sweetheart close to Fitz's ear and darling with a heated look. Sometimes hearing Hunter's voice wrapped around those endearments was one of the only things that got Fitz through difficult days. The Jemma he'd known was gone now, he couldn't rely on thin air so he had Mack and he had Hunter.

Hunter brought him sandwiches and tea, coffee and cake. His fingers caressed Fitz's only for a moment. He was still testing boundaries. Fitz was half-frustrated, half-relieved; it all depended on the day and on how recently he'd gotten some time alone.

Until one day, after a terrible couple of hours that'd involved Ward reappearing, a furious/shaken Skye and too many bullets hitting several SHIELD agents, Fitz gratefully retreated to his room. He'd gotten his trousers unbuttoned and halfway down his thighs, so desperate for clarity and release, for a way through what he'd just experienced, when there was a knock at the door and before he could say anything, Hunter breezed in.

"I know."

He locked the door behind him and turned to Fitz. Fitz's abject embarrassment was tempered by the molten heat he could see filling Hunter's expression and the ragged wildness in Hunter's eyes, it seemed to be the same clawing demanding emotion that Fitz himself was feeling full of. Hunter took a step towards him but stopped, staring with amazing scorching focus.

Fitz's mouth felt dry because he was now holding his trousers up and his cock was still hard and Hunter was there and Fitz really needed his release, he needed Hunter to stay, to go, to...

"Fuck," Hunter swore, his eyes getting wilder and his mouth glistening as he stared at Fitz.

"Please," the word leapt out of Fitz before he could stop it, followed by more. "I'm...yes, unless you were, unless this is a...a...a..."

Hunter took another step forward, his hand touching Fitz's wrist. Fitz's cock jumped in response.

"It's not a joke," Hunter assured him. "I'm here because you look really good and I really want to follow through on all that mutual flirting, especially today."

Yes, Fitz understood that. It was why he'd made straight for his room once Coulson had dismissed everyone post-debrief. The idea of getting that release with Hunter's actual presence, his touch, made Fitz shift his weight from foot to foot. And the way Hunter was looking at him made him feel hot and prickly all over, the really good kind of prickly. Hunter looked like he was feeling something similar.

Fitz awkwardly turned his wrist so that their hands sort of interlocked, his fingers trembling. Hunter drew closer and gave Fitz time to push him away, then all of a sudden, his mouth was fused to Fitz's and both of them were scrabbling to get rid of clothing, their own and each other's. Fitz kicked away his trousers and with a surge of desperation, shoved Hunter down onto his bed.

Hunter looked up at with very pleased heated eyes, giving Fitz a good once-over, "Mmm, thank you for the view."

Fitz flushed and crooked an arm across his own chest, a pathetic attempt at concealing his confined-to-the-lab body when faced with Hunter's more obviously impressive physical attributes. Hunter was lean but he was also someone who clearly exercised daily, both in the gym and out in the field. Fitz liked how Hunter looked, particularly without his clothes on, so he focused on that. Hunter smirked and repositioned himself, evidently enjoying the attention. Fitz could feel the heat of Hunter's body and he found himself crawling up the bed to soak up that warmth. Hunter immediately accommodated him, curling eager hands at Fitz's waist and dragging him closer. Hunter wanted him, Fitz could see and feel that. The power of that was amazing.

Hunter's cock pressed insistently against Fitz. The brilliant shock of that touch made Fitz choke out a sound that made Hunter look wild all over again before he wrapped a hand around Fitz's cock entirely without ceremony. Fitz's choking noises reappeared and became more frequent as he pushed his hips forward, feeling that rush already building, the shock of clarity that he craved. Maybe it'd block other things out, recent images he didn't want at all; Mack bleeding, Jemma screaming, Ward...

Fitz shook his head and rocked more insistently forward. He needed more. So he spat onto his own fingers and fumbled them down to locate Hunter's cock, Hunter's breath sounded punched-out and relieved. They shared a single magnetic glance, then Fitz firmed up his grip and began a series of strong strokes, demonstrating what he needed, frustration and need seeping out of the corners of his teeth. Hunter began to match his rhythm, his mouth contorting urgently. Fitz couldn't stop staring at him, at his angles that were now even more fascinating, at the heat that was steaming off of him, the sweat that was giving him a sheen that Fitz wanted to taste, so he did.

He bent and licked at Hunter's shoulder. Hunter bowed up towards him encouragingly, his hips spasming.

"Yes, come on, love, come on."

Fitz laved his tongue along Hunter's collarbone, his mind tripping over lessons and lectures and how if a weapon could discharge enough volts here, it'd slow an Asgardian down. He saw blueprints, diagrams. Clarity.

He reared back and shoved down urgently, his pace increasing around Hunter's cock. Everything he couldn't articulate was there in the push of his hips, the gasp of his breath, the wildness in both their eyes. He could feel the surge beginning to burn through him and his movements became even more frantic. Hunter growled and shoved hard into Fitz's hand, chasing the same feeling with the same kind of intent.

Yes, yes. Fitz could see everything, he could think...

He didn't know when Hunter came but Fitz was vividly aware of his own release, the exhausting relieving rush of it, and how he ended up slumped over Hunter, his head leaning against Hunter's temple. One of them was trembling.

"Come on."

Hunter tipped him over so that they could lie side by side on Fitz's bed. Fitz wiped his hand clean on the duvet, he wanted to retain the smell. The memory would help a lot. Hunter didn't look uncomfortable, he looked sated and pleased with himself. He peered over at Fitz.

"Everything still working?"

Fitz raised his eyebrows and nodded. His tongue felt thick and his limbs felt impossibly heavy. Hunter smiled, the edges of it gentle as he poked a finger at Fitz.

"Then we are doing that again," he pronounced.

Fitz blinked. Again. That was a good thought, more release, more clarity, more of Hunter's touches. It made sense, even if the idea of more felt a little unreal.

"I need time," he managed to say.

Hunter smiled. "Don't we all? I'm up for round two, postponed of course until movement's actually possible."

Hunter kissed him once, an emphatic kiss that lingered. Fitz enjoyed the feel of Hunter's lips. His mind flashed to Ward and how he'd looked at Skye, how ugly and hollow that hunger had seemed. Fitz's brow puckered; Ward had shot Bobbi, thankfully she hadn't needed surgery.

Everyone had been left frazzled, in tatters. Fitz decided that he could like the mania if it meant he got this kind of clarity afterwards. Even now there was an echo of his thirst for that sensation. Hunter's eyes still had a glimpse of wildness in them; if Fitz looked hard enough he could see the same feeling in his own eyes reflected back to him.

Fitz hadn't responded to Hunter's offer, he realised. Hunter was waiting not very patiently but he was waiting. He was still naked. Fitz found himself nodding very rapidly. Hunter's grin was triumphant and glad, which felt good.

"I'm using you," Fitz told him, a statement not an apology.

Because it felt important to say it. Hadn't secrets been a problem before? There wasn't going to be another Ward, another Skye, another...everything. Fitz clenched his fist and concentrated on thinking about the thrill of a lab problem solved and the way Hunter's touch still felt.

Hunter looked at him for only a moment, wordlessly shifting an elbow closer, connecting himself to Fitz. Then he spoke.

"Did you actually want that with me or would any hand have helped?"

Fitz thought about other mysterious hands and bodies, Trip or May, SHIELD agents he'd met, people the team had handed over to the military. The thought of touching them made him shiver in a very unpleasant way. Hunter didn't. Fitz had grown used to Hunter's touch, attitude and feel, he had grown used to wanting it all. He didn't want to get used to anybody else.

He shook his head and opened his mouth, "Your touch."

It was all he could say to explain himself. Hunter looked smug and nudged Fitz almost sharply. "Then I can handle being used for my body, as long as you can handle the same."

Fitz frowned, his body? Hunter laughed at the look on his face. "You're fucking amazing. Come on, I'll shout you a meal. There's a place I've been dying to try..."

Going out. Fitz froze. He hadn't been out too much lately. He stuck to the Playground mostly or the plane if necessary. Hunter didn't miss a beat.

"...which also does take-away."

Fitz's stomach growled. Hunter took hold of Fitz's wrist and lifted the still-damp hand to his mouth so that he could briefly suck Fitz's fingers clean. It caused a zing of heat down Fitz's spine. His cock twitched feebly, his other hunger growled. All those diagrams and plans that were clear to him now, the progress he could make, proving that he was still worth keeping around.

"Time," he murmured, the heat beginning to stoke at Hunter's ministrations. "Work."

"Ah, you can't work on an empty stomach." Hunter dropped his hand with a wicked smile. "Though that works as a starter."

He got up, unashamedly nude. Fitz enjoyed the view, his mind whirling – food, then work. He could get a lot done tonight. Maybe Hunter would join him later, clarity was very important and Fitz would enjoy it. That was an old unused thought, he fell a little more into it. He would enjoy it and a need finally had a solution. Looking at Hunter helped. Maybe if he...

He carefully raised a hand and pressed it to the small of Hunter's back; Hunter leaned back into the touch, his lack of shame continuing. He could have used anyone, at the Playground or off. The power of Hunter's choice and seeing how Fitz could affect him was heady, a very different kind of need and clarity.

Fitz got to his feet, keeping his hand across Hunter's skin, exploring the muscles and bones that he could feel underneath. Hunter dragged on his jeans and cast a look that was both amused and greedy over his shoulder. Nobody had ever looked at Fitz like that before. Fitz looked back as he reached for his trousers and handed Hunter his shirt. Fingers brushed against skin as they silently dressed themselves and each other. The heat was still there, as were images of what the team had suffered that night and the solutions that Hunter had helped Fitz unlock. Fitz needed more. Hunter met his gaze and something glinted there like a familiar affirmative, Fitz's hand firmly flattened Hunter's crumpled shirt collar.

It was dinner time.

-the end