In which Danse learns the valuable lesson of: Don't start nothin', won't be nothin'.
It was the constant pissy looks that started it.
The snide, passive-aggressive remarks that kept it going.
And it was the collision that finally set it off.
Yeah, he could admit it. He had been sloppy, stumbling drunk when it happened; maybe not one-hundred-percent looking where he was going on his way back to his bunk. He'd plowed right into the tin can's shiny metal chest and gone stumbling off into the side of the house. Simple mistake. He'd even apologized, sorta. But from the way Danse reacted, you'd've thought Hancock had slapped him and called his mother a brahmin shagger.
His eyes had darkened, the thick eyebrows drawing together in a frown and his lip pulling back in a sneer. Danse had taken a thudding step toward Hancock, hands clenching like he was holding back from just grabbing him and throttling him right there. "Stay. The hell. Away from me, you filthy ghoul," he'd hissed, spitting the last word out like a curse. All the piss and vinegar woulda almost been funny if he didn't look so deadly serious. Hancock stayed leaning against the wooden boards behind him, hand curled lightly around the hilt of his knife as he watched Danse stride off. But he'd seemed pretty damn serious. So it wasn't funny.
Which is how Hancock wound up in Danse's room, perched in an easy chair and having a nice, slow-burning seethe going on while he waited for the paladin to come back and turn in for the night. He scraped little pieces of dirt from under his short nails with his buck knife and flicked them at the door as he waited. The constant, obvious glaring and even the comments could be forgiven; his feelings didn't get hurt that easily. But if the jumped-up boyscout thought he could threaten and insult him with no backlash, he would have to set him straight. You don't fuck with John Hancock. And nevermind even that; you don't fuck with the people you live with.
Too bad about that arrogant fucking attitude, he thought, as his eyes roved around the room, lighting on Danse's power armor in the corner. All neat and clean just like its owner. Cuz he's also real damn pretty to look at. He reached in a pocket, dug around 'til he found what he was looking for. Small pill, grainy texture, big cross carved on one side. He absently popped it into his mouth and swallowed before it could start to dissolve. If he was about to assault someone so much bigger and stronger than him, he needed a bit of an edge. Didn't plan on hurting the prick, but he wasn't going to be nice about it either.
Footsteps fell outside. Boots thunking on the porch up to the door. Hancock dropped his hands to his thighs, body tense and wired. The buffout had already done its work on his body and his mind; his ropy muscles were singing and buzzing under his skin and come to think of it, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to rough him up a little. He ran his tongue over his teeth as the door swung open.
Silent as a shadow, Hancock stood and glided across the floor behind the man who had walked in. He was much more manageable without the hulking frame of armor around him. In a quick dash, he snagged a wrist, twisting it back and up along Danse's spine while his other hand reached around Danse's right shoulder and pressed his knife up against the stubbly throat. Hancock's chest was firmly pushed against the broad, muscled back and his hot breaths blew against Danse's ear. Danse lunged and tried to break loose, throw him off, but the ghoul was completely wrapped around him and the cold edge of the knife tilted inward, forcing Danse to slow his movements. He could feel the soldier's body twitching with fury and smiled against his neck, softly dragging his cheek against the skin there. Knowing it was just goddamn revolting for him.
"Good evening, paladin," he whispered, still straining to keep Danse from breaking away. The buffout racing through his blood and muscles had lent him quite a lot of strength, but even that was barely enough to restrain the rippling hard body underneath him. He yanked up on the captured wrist and stepped on the back of one knee, forcing him to kneel as he followed him to the floor. "Quit your fucking squirming," he hissed, pressing closer. Danse gradually relented and stilled when he realized the struggling wasn't working. "Now, I think we need to have a talk."
"You." Venom in his voice. The knife bobbed slightly as Danse swallowed. "Get your hands off me and get the hell out. I have nothing to say to you."
Hancock pointed the blade away and dug his fingers into the flesh of his neck instead, angling his head to the side so he could see Danse's right eye and that half of his face. He looked pretty angry about something. "Mm mm mm. I'll leave when I'm done. We need to have a discussion about the way you talk to people." The eye closed and Danse's lips parted, drawing air through his mouth. Hancock readjusted his grip on the wrist straining against him and lay his chin on top of the bulging shoulder. If Danse opened his eyes, Hancock's own pitch-black one would be right there. "I get it, okay? You don't like ghouls. You've made that... far beyond abundantly clear. Ghouls, synths, mutants, anything that's not a perfect, pure human like you."
Danse grunted and choked out through his constricted throat "Should all be eradi-kkkch," his words turned into a hacking wheeze as Hancock's fingers tightened even harder.
"Ah ah ah, shut your fuckin' mouth right now. This is what I'm talking about. Look at me." Hancock shook Danse's jaw. "You usually can't keep your pretty eyes off me. Look. At me." Danse's eye slid open and tilted back to look at him, full of rage. "Good boy," Hancock mockingly patted his cheek, maybe a little harder than necessary. "I'm not gonna call this friendly advice, because we're damn far from being friends, but keep that shit to yourself and back the hell off. I'm tired of it. You're doing nothing but making enemies and trouble, y'feel me?"
Hancock suddenly released him and stepped back; Danse lurched forward and put a hand to his neck, gingerly touching it as he retched and coughed. Hancock was keyed up and jittery; he shifted around in his boots as he watched Danse stagger to his feet. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a shark-like grin as Danse turned to face him, glowering and roughly straightening out the thick jumpsuit that had gotten twisted around as the two struggled. Do something, he silently dared him. Please come at me.
He sheathed his knife then pulled another dose of buffout from his pocket and tossed it in his mouth, crunching down on it and letting the bitter powder coat his tongue. The smile hadn't left his face and he was staring unblinking at Danse. Only a few feet separated them. Danse rolled his shoulders and clenched his fists, sizing him up.
"That's all I had," Hancock said. "But what? You want something else? Will an ass-kicking help soothe your pride?" Outright goading now. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't smart to start a stupid fight like this but in this moment, he wanted it real bad. He dropped his shoulders and spread his hands out, beckoning. "Yeah? Let's see what you can do without your armor, princess."
Danse didn't answer, he just flung himself at Hancock; catching him around the waist and throwing them both to the floor. Hancock had a dizzy moment to realize his hat had been knocked off before he had to twist his head out of the way of Danse's fist flying at him. The punch slammed into the boards beside him, sending a small puff of dust against his neck. The next minutes were a panting flurry of fists, knees, teeth, and growled curses. They rolled and scraped across the dirty wood floor, nerves screeching and muscles exploding forward into forceful thuds and grunts. The room was getting trashed as they lunged and staggered around knocking chairs and tables over and crashing into shelves. A canister of fusion cells rattled across the floor to join a stack of papers that had been tipped over. With all the noise it was a wonder no one had come to see what the disturbance was.
After a particularly good jab to his side, Hancock had a second to wonder if maybe a dose of psycho would have been a better idea, but then quickly shut that down. Psycho was for when you literally wanted to tear something's head off and then shower in its blood, not a scuffle like this.
Hancock wrestled Danse onto his back, pinning his hands down by his shoulders as he bucked and twisted underneath the ghoul. He was trying to shake loose, but didn't have enough force to push him off. Hancock sniffed and hawked out a splat of blood and snot at the wall. His face and stomach were aching from the impacts and his knuckles stung from where he'd landed his own hits. From the throb in his lower lip he guessed it had been split open. He leaned down, getting his face right in Danse's. He looked similarly winded, panting and a tiny rill of blood running from where his brow had been cut. "You done yet?" Hancock asked.
As he bent down over Danse, their hips came together, a slow, soft drag. Danse's eyes widened, looking utterly shocked, and those damn pouty lips fell open in a quiet moan. Hancock froze, dark eyes tracing over the paladin's face. Well, well. The eyes met his, a look of fear... no, it was shame in them. Shame and lust. That could be a dangerous combination. Or really useful. His chest was heaving, skin flushed pink, and pupils were wide and dark.
"Man, you're really fucked up, huh," Hancock murmured. He could feel the burning heat radiating off Danse, and the hard length of his dick pressing into his thigh through the jumpsuit. A brotherhood devotee writhing and moaning under a ghoul; wonders would never cease. Hancock could take a guess at the paladin's odd reaction; beating the shit out of another man with his bare fists always made him really fucking horny. But how embarrassing for Danse.
Danse sucked in a breath, his still-trapped hands squeezing shut and the thick tendons in his wrists straining. "Goddamnit," he gritted. "Don't. Touch me."
This was too good. Their faces were still mere inches apart and he licked his lip where he could feel a drip of blood. Danse's eyes dropped, following the motion, and then back up. "Why don't you make me?" Hancock growled. Deliberately, eyes still locked, he sank a little further down and slid his body up against Danse's again. Harder this time, and rolling his hips in a sinuous wave.
Danse snarled and quickly threw all his weight to the side, snapping the grip Hancock had on his arms. He leaned back, having lost his supports and was promptly hit in the jaw by Danse's fist. It didn't have his full power behind it due to no wind-up room, but Hancock's vision whited-out in a sharp blast anyway. Danse quickly sat up, knocking Hancock to the floor with his legs tangled up around Danse's knees. "You scum." His voice was low and deadly. "I said don't touch me." The soldier's huge hands buried themselves in the front of his shirt and dragged the ghoul closer with a sharp wrench. Hancock had only a split second to realize what he was about to do before Danse's lips crushed against his own. His stubble scratched against his skin, teeth a hard barrier under the soft lips, hot breath in a quick burst from his nose, and it was fucking electric. Oh no, Hancock thought nonsensically as he sank into the kiss. You're breaking the ruuules.
Hancock dug his hands into Danse's hair, enjoying the thick silkiness of it as he clenched his fingers at the back of his head. Danse's teeth scraped over his lip, tongue plunging into his mouth, and hands blindly ripping off Hancock's red overcoat. He shrugged out of it along with the underlying waistcoat and dropped them to the floor as Danse continued the urgent assault on his lips and jaw. Hands pressed him closer, digging into his back and waist as his breath rushed in and out. His skin tingled where Danse's short beard scratched it, contrasting the wet presses of flesh and hot whispers of breath.
This was... an extremely appealing turn of events, considering what he'd expected when breaking in earlier. But much as he'd like to, he couldn't let himself get completely carried away, not quite yet. He tipped his head to the side, unclasping the buckle at Danse's throat and started unfastening the front of the jumpsuit. Danse's hands fell to grasp at his hips and Hancock took the opportunity to attack, moving back and yanking the shoulders of the suit down to right above elbow height, trapping his arms to his sides. For once, the big, bulky muscles were acting against him. Perfect. Danse twisted and lunged, struggling and failing to get to his feet with anger in his eyes but no real surprise to speak of. It was a good thing these suits were made sturdy; Danse was putting every effort into simultaneously trying to shimmy out of the confines and trying to just burst through them by flexing.
Hancock stood, taking the chance to quickly catch his breath. The air felt nice on his skin and he fluffed his shirt out to fan more onto his chest. The heels of his boots clocked quietly as he turned back to Danse. This was immense fun, but he needed Danse a little humbler than when he'd come in. And just sitting back and letting Danse strip him naked, while very tempting, wouldn't help much with that.
The paladin had thrashed around into a kneeling position, legs spread apart and thigh muscles taut. Hancock's eye traveled up over the round hips and small mounds of his abs to the thick planes of his exposed chest and the fine dusting of dark hair that coated them. He sighed, amused at himself. Jesus christ, when was the last time he'd been this fucking rock hard?
"Just hold on a minute," Hancock said, walking back to where Danse was kneeling. Around to his back, just standing there above him, looking down at the soft mass of hair. His hand dropped down, fingertips touching the hot forehead then sliding back through the fine strands. So soft. At the crown, he gently closed his fist and tilted Danse's head back to look at him upside-down. "Let's get back to why I'm even here before all of that." He dropped to his own knees behind Danse in a mirror of their earlier positions, draping an arm over Danse's shoulders and resting his chin on his shoulder. He blew a breath out and smiled a little. "We've really got to stop meeting like this." The paladin had stopped thrashing around, but his body was practically vibrating. With anger, most likely. He ignored the stupid joke. Hancock continued on. "I don't think we ever came to an agreement. Were you going to do what I asked and keep those nasty comments to yourself?"
Danse grunted, saying nothing. His shoulders contracted and released. He was squeezing his fists as hard as he could.
That was alright. He'd get something out of him. Hancock nuzzled closer, his cheek brushing Danse's neck and ear, lips pressing a half-kiss to the damp skin. Danse moaned again, trying to quiet himself as soon as it slipped out. Hancock's voice was low and velvety as he spoke behind Danse's ear, "I just... hate to think what your brothers would say," Danse's body stiffened and he took a sharp breath in. "...if they knew what you were up to right now." Hancock's hand traced the edge of the jumpsuit, half sliding on cloth and the other half through the short fur of Danse's chest hair. The threat wasn't serious. He didn't have nearly enough motivation or a need for petty vengeance to go try to tattle to any of those assholes. Danse probably didn't really believe it either, but it was kinda fun to watch him squirm about it.
"You wouldn't," he said, a tinge of panic in his voice. He coughed. "Impossible anyway. No one would listen."
The hand went lower, finger hooking over where the jumpsuit was still joined together. Lower over the stomach, the muscles twitching back. Danse made a strangled noise of anticipation as the fingertips lightly traced their way over him, and then closed over the throbbing shaft straining against the fabric. His hand glided all the way down, gently caressing and then back up, palm applying solid pressure. "I can be pretty persuasive if I need to be, I don't think you want to test me on that," Hancock whispered, pushing his lips and nose through the short hairs at the back of his head. He changed his grip, stroking him once through the suit... and then moving away. Danse's hips involuntarily jerked against him, trying to follow his hand. He hissed loudly, shutting his eyes. "All I want is your word. You keep your mouth shut, and so will I. Easy."
Danse panted, his head leaning back against Hancock's chest and his hips thrust out. If Hancock didn't know better, he might think the poor guy was in some kind of distress. "Fine," Danse finally groaned out.
"Yeah?" His hand ghosted back over Danse, tracing tiny, teasing circles on the sensitive underside. "Let's hear a 'Yes, sir', soldier boy." Hancock's teeth latched onto Danse's ear, tongue flicking against the soft skin. "And yes, I'm serious."
"Jesus," Danse whispered under his breath. A long pause. Neither of them moved, Hancock's arms wrapped around him still. It was evident he wouldn't let him go without getting those few words out of Danse. Or keep touching him. Danse growled, the sound thick and annoyed. "Yes... sir, I will keep my mouth shut." His teeth were locked together in a snarl, and he sounded deeply humiliated.
"Very good." Hancock chuckled, perversely delighted. The next time you say that, I hope you remember kneeling on the floor with a ghoul jerking you off. This was a matter of pride and not really much else. He hadn't come here expecting to magically cure the brotherhood drone of his biases; that little superficial agreement was enough.
He shifted a little closer, coming to a decision that had been forming ever since Danse had first let slip that first quiet moan. Time for his personal credo in life to shine again: try everything at least once. And banging a ghoul-hater was a new one. "It's late, but there's one last little thing I think we need to take care of."
"What now?" Danse sounded livid.
Hancock laughed harder, disdainful. "You need to loosen up, man." His hands joined at Danse's chest and resumed unhooking his jumpsuit as his breath fell over the back of Danse's neck. "And you know exactly what I'm talking about, pretty boy."
The straining fabric popped apart and Danse's arms were loose at his side again, unfettered by the tight sleeves. He shook his hands out and then immediately whipped his arm up and around and grabbed Hancock's shoulder, dragging him sideways. Hancock's reflexes took over and he shifted all his weight along with Danse's momentum so the paladin ended up thumping to his back instead of him. Hancock's palms slammed to the floor on either side of Danse's head. His blood was racing and he could feel it surging all through his body. He blew a breath over his lip and got right up close to Danse's face, threateningly looming over him. "Is this what we're gonna do all night? Huh?" The subtext was clear: stop struggling.
Danse was frozen still. Eyes meeting and then skittering away from his own. Funny. The lack of eyebrows and the solid black of his eyes usually made it difficult for unpracticed humans to read his emotional weather. Some found the rare mutation disconcerting, especially at such close range and found it hard to meet his gaze for long. Danse swallowed and asked, "What do you want then?"
"You really wanna know? Honestly?" Hancock's hand came up to Danse's face and gently touched his cheek. Danse blinked as the ghoul's thumb rubbed over his lips. "A few hits of jet and my dick in your ass. Maybe choke you a little. That's what I want." His hand clamped down harder on Danse's face as the paladin's eyes widened. "And you know what? You're gonna let me. Cuz you want it, don't you, sweetheart?" His face dropped even closer, his bloody lips touching Danse's as he spoke and their heavy breaths intermingling. He could feel the skin of Danse's neck hump up into goosebumps under his fingers. "Don't you? You want me to fuck you."
There was the shame again, writ plainly in Danse's eyes. Yeah, he'd hit upon it. It wasn't the fighting that'd gotten him revved up, it was Hancock himself. A forbidden, taboo abomination. He desired what he was disgusted with. Boy, did he. Hancock could see lust etched in each line of his face. Danse's eyes closed as he answered, lips moving against Hancock's and voice almost too quiet to hear. "Yes."
A wicked grin spread over Hancock's face as a burning heat unfurled in his gut. Fuck yeah. That's what he wanted. Danse's suit was ripped off in a harsh whisper and was discarded along with his boots. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the body in front of him as he knelt between Danse's legs. Pale and muscular, each line and angle flowing together perfectly. A few shadows of future bruises had sprung up in a few places and a long ugly scrape decorated one shin. He desperately wanted to bite and dig his claws in everywhere, piercing and raking red marks into the sweat-covered torso. Instead, he calmly undid the buttons on his shirt and brought his eyes back up to Danse's face, giving a simple command. "Go on and touch yourself, paladin. Slowly."
Danse hesitated, looking like he wanted to protest. But he acquiesced, trailing his hand down his body and loosely grabbing himself, making long lazy strokes as he lay there looking with a critical eye at the ghoul undressing. The fingers barely brushing the shaft then squeezing tight near the head. Loosen, slide back down, repeat. Hips rocking with the movements. Shit. He was a little too good at that.
Hancock exhaled and yanked his own dark pants down to his knees before sticking two fingers in his mouth and covering them with spit. He shoved Danse's legs back, rolling his hips up and allowing access to what he was after. His fingers dragged up the cleft of Danse's ass, massaging the delicate skin. Danse's hand faltered and his eyes had closed, drawing in deep breaths as Hancock slid in. He pressed deeper, loving the breathy gasps Danse made each time he shoved closer. "You ever done this before?"
Danse wouldn't look at him. "A... few times. A long time ago."
"Mm." He dragged in and out, the tightness very gradually lessening as Danse relaxed. He withdrew and drooled a long string of saliva down onto his cock, stroking himself and spreading the wetness all over. Hancock wished he had some actual lube, but got the feeling the only kind of lubricant Danse would have on-hand would be for his armor or rifle, no innuendo intended. He briefly glanced down as he gripped and stretched, admiring the view. Long, thin, and heavily scarred and marked, just like the rest of him. Hancock grabbed Danse's hip and dragged him closer, positioned himself right where he needed to be, and stopped. It took quite a bit of willpower to not just buck forward and sheathe himself in the quivering ass right then.
"You want this, brotherhood?" Hancock slowly rubbed the wet tip of his dick up and back down, pulling Danse close each time he passed over the entrance.
"Yes." Danse's voice was even lower than normal, a deep, vibrating bass. His hand was still lightly dragging over his dick, the head glistening with wetness.
"Yes what?"
Danse's eyes cracked open, glaring at him through mostly-closed lids. Hancock stared back, waiting impassively. Danse's lip curled upwards as he answered, showing his teeth. "I'm not going to beg from a ghoul," he snarled.
Hancock leaned forward, catching Danse's jaw and neck in his hand. "Don't," he started, releasing his neck and changing direction to slap his cheek. Not hard enough to really hurt, but definitely enough to sting and leave a pink mark. "Don't fucking talk back to me, paladin."
Danse growled, his eyes flaring open and jaw jutting defiantly. "Then don't waste my time, just do it."
Hancock smacked him again, Danse's head turning to the side and lips peeling back from his teeth. But he did as he was asked. He pressed in past the first tight ring of muscle as Danse's body tensed and arced back against the floor. Inch by inch he slid in, each movement accompanied by a hard breath from Danse until he was seated flush against him. Hancock groaned quietly, the first push was always the best. Almost unbearably tight and muscles spasming, trying to accommodate the intrusion. He laid a hand on Danse's chest, hot skin and hair against his palm and heartbeat thundering away below. He slid it up, pressing against collarbone and up to his throat. He squeezed, blood and breath running so close to his hand. The other clamped onto Danse's thigh, anchoring him still as he began to move, rocking against him gently. He tilted upwards to rub against that little sweet spot.
Danse moaned and threw his head back, eyes staring off to the opposite wall and tendons standing out in his neck. His hands flew down to his sides, grasping at the wooden floorboards below him but unable to catch hold of anything. Hancock sped up, getting into a good rhythm for himself. Fucking hell. All the teasing and rubbing from earlier had set him close to the edge already. The hot tightness around his dick and the groaning, writhing stud gracing his field of vision was getting him close at an alarming speed. He leaned back, closing his eyes and trying to rein it back in for a moment as his breaths rushed in and out. The paladin first, and then you're allowed.
"Mm mm." He slapped a hand against the back of Danse's thigh, earning a startled bark. "I never said you could stop." He reached down and took Danse's dick in his hand and pumped in rhythm with his thrusts. Danse's eyes fell to his and watched him, huffing and biting his lip as his orgasm built. Hancock's skin tingled and burned. Ugh, he was close. And... here went Danse. His body jolted, hips rolling into his hand and thrusting against him. He cried out wordlessly as he jetted messily onto his own stomach. Hancock quickly followed, pulling out and letting the fiery waves crash over him as the pressure finally released and his own fell over Danse's body, painting him with white streaks. He looked pretty fucking good laying there sprawled out, panting and covered in sweat and jizz.
Head buzzing and reluctant to move, but knowing it would probably be a good idea not to linger, he grabbed his shirt and hastily wiped Danse and then himself off. Tucked everything back into his pants, clapped his hat back on his head, and threw his coat around bare shoulders. He glanced down at Danse, who still hadn't moved much, save to throw an arm under his head. His breathing seemed to be back to normal and his face looked peaceful and relaxed. Post-sex glow. Cute. Time to get out before it faded back into something ugly; he didn't want to wait around and see what kind of regrets would pop up from something like this.
Hancock took a step towards the door and stopped. This might be pushing it, but eh. He didn't like just running out after, no matter who it was. Couldn't have been that bad anyway seeing as Danse was still naked and just calmly lying there. Hancock reversed and nudged Danse's calf with the toe of his boot. One listless eye opened, slid up Hancock's body to rest on his face. "What?"
Yeah. What. What do you say to a guy who wants you and all your kind dead but you also wouldn't really mind staring into his eyes as he comes again? "See you, paladin. I'm around if you want me." A brash grin spread over his face. "And I know you do."
Danse snorted and turned his face away. There was a pink flush on his cheeks and running down his neck. "Get the hell out of my room, ghoul."