I had a sudden burst of bottom!Herc feels, whoop! It's happier than it sounds, well at least in my opinion. Also, the original summary is: It's a little fucked up, but aren't they all. But ff.n doesn't allow profanity in summaries, I've had a fic deleted for that so I would know /rolls my eyes so hard
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post drift blues
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When he presses into him, he feels like he is fucking his father and himself, all at the same time. The drift has a choke hold on him. Every minute shift makes him ache, and it's a burst of pleasurepainpleasure that takes and breaks and gives and fixes. He thinks he can't have anything else, not after this, not after close to half a decade of drifts and it still manages to bring them both to their knees like this is their very first time all over again.
It's a little fucked up, but aren't they all when he is rocking into dad and the man only spreads his legs a little wider, clenches his fists a little tighter into the sheets as he rocks back into the motion.
He can feel him in his head, gasping out obscenities meant just for him. And it's almost sweet when he thinks he can't hear him, mouth parted in silence, ginger lashes quivering against his flushed cheeks, looking like this is the first time he is getting fucked in the ass.
Herc catches that thought and the low chuckle that he lets out catches Chuck off guard.
(So he fucks him just a little harder, reaches around to take him in hand, and kisses the man with tongue and teeth when he tilts his head back.)
It used to be that they would bring it to the Kwoon, that they will wrestle their post drifts into the mats. Chuck will have his hands fisted into Herc's collar. His knuckles calloused from fights he never wins, frowning as he takes a second swing that misses by a fraction but a fraction none the less.
Chuck is not the best fighter, next to his dad, next to a RAAF veteran that drives Striker instead of choppers only because he is better in a Jaeger than one of those machines he loved so long ago. And he still laughs when he remembers that one time the PPDC higher ups tried.
Only once have they tried.
Try to pull the old man out of the field and into one of those suits to have him play politics with the big boys at the round table.
Chuck laughs.
He has been drifting since he was fifteen years old. His dad is his co-pilot and no suits and ties can say otherwise. Even the Marshal doesn't think it will work, not in a million years, not when they are both Hansens and really, that should say it all. But these men in suits are the only ones funding the program, there is little they can't do.
So, Chuck Hansen picks a fight.
And as hard as it is to believe, he also knows how to step away from one. But this isn't that one. Standing in the Kwoon, this is second nature for him when he throws another handpicked cadet over his shoulder and into the mat without a moment of hesitation.
It's brutal, and every bit Chuck.
Herc knows, of course he does, he's personally taught the kid that same trick, throwing him over his shoulder again and again until Chuck can do the same to him. The Hansens teach with their bodies, all grappling hold and sheer force that is all consuming.
They still manage to throw two cadets into entering the drift with Chuck.
But it isn't like Chuck's head is a smooth sailing sea either.
And Herc would know, of course he does, he's been in the kid's head since he was fifteen. But he is twenty now and Herc can't say he still looks like a child, one that reminds him of himself in all the worst possible way. Not when he is already pushing his mouth over his the very next second, when orders come down that it is better Striker Eureka's team stay as they are.
Maybe this is strange (and wrong and unnatural and a hundred, thousand other kinds of things) but this is what Chuck knows, what he has grown up feeling, resenting, and then accepting through and through. It's ridiculous to discredit everything he has always known. No one gets to do that anyway, maybe Herc, but even then it is only because he's been in his head and came out unscathed.
Came out still reaching for him even when their heads are already tangled into one entity.
Herc gives him everything he couldn't when he was just an ankle biter. (He has been an absent father then, and he isn't a father now.) Not with his head tilting back for a kiss only his son knows how to give.
It's want. But it's more than that too.
The drift makes certain of that.
XXX Kuro