In which Hancock lays the smack down on Danse, but in a good way. He likes it.


"Paladin Danse."

The words called his march to a stop, imperative but quiet enough to carry only to his ears. The raspy tenor of the voice put just a hint of sneer on his title. If the voice itself didn't give away who was calling to him from the splintered wooden porch, that derisive tone certainly did.

He turned his head, gazing into the shadowed overhang of the familiar house. The glowing cherry of a lit cigarette floated there above the steps, rising up and illuminating the holder's face in tones of orange as he took a short drag. Danse paused and stood where he was in the dooryard, watching the smoke get tugged away by the wind. Christ, being near the ghoul always put him on edge. The way he spoke and moved and always got just a little too close for comfort set his nerves sparking. Made him revert to that primal need to either flee or wrap his hands around the throat of the threat. But he had chosen to walk this way, hadn't he? Had maybe wanted that cocky voice to call out to him. It came again, even quieter than the greeting. "Can't sleep?"

A small smile lifted the corner of Danse's mouth as he spoke back into the resounding deadness of the damp night air, "It's tough to force myself into bed some nights."

A knowing laugh was the response, and the glowing ember bobbed forward and back as Hancock gestured him over. He didn't say anything, but there was a mirthful smile on his face as he crushed the last of his smoke out on the bottom of his boot. Danse edged down onto the rickety stairs, picking the second riser below Hancock to sit on and propping his elbows behind him. Forcing himself to appear at ease despite the tension rising through him. A few muted lights shone out around the settlement, but where they were sitting was now plunged into an almost solid darkness. With his cigarette out, Hancock was just a vague suggestion of shape beside him; Danse could hear his slow pulls of breath far more clearly than he could see him.

"Didn't think you were out and about this late." Hancock's voice was just a bare tick above a whisper but sounded loud and harsh in the still air.

Danse turned and leaned his back against the rail behind him, settling his eyes on what would have been the ghoul's face if he could see anything more than black on grey shadows. Excitement, just short of turning into fear was haunting him; a dense feeling of suffocation as he breathed in and released. He let it prickle his skin and crush into his chest as he spoke. "Yeah," he agreed, then finding himself unwilling to continue. That gnaw of uncertainty didn't want him to say anything aloud. Didn't want to admit why his patrol had taken him past this particular house at this particular time of night. His gaze shifted over to the screen door behind them and then returned. "Nothing pressing tomorrow."

Hancock had followed where his eyes went, he saw it from the gentle tilt of his head. But he said nothing for a few moments, letting the air squeeze and compress Danse a little more as he waited, feeling the thin wooden slats bite into his thighs and his thoughts bite into his mind. Finally Hancock's voice came again, sounding, if possible, even more relaxed and sure of himself than usual. Bastard. "So, what's the story, morning glory? It looks like you've got somethin' extra serious on your mind." He bent a leg out behind Danse, laying an arm across the knee and insinuating himself further into Danse's space. "I think I'm up for a tough philosophical quandary if you've got one. Or did you swing by for something else?"

Danse's words failed him again, a wave of frustration burning his ears and cheeks. He knew exactly why he'd wandered by here, remembering the way Hancock had manhandled him and hissed filth into his face that first night their tensions had spilled over into a physical fight. He wanted to speak but couldn't form anything remotely presentable. This was a little more complex than 'Hey Hancock, let's bang', which he would never have said either. Danse found himself envying Hancock's complete ease of just saying the most ridiculous nonsense he could think of. He opened his mouth and then shut it again with an impatient noise.

"Danse," Hancock snapped out.

His eyes flicked up to Hancock's face and then away, his breathing suddenly harder. He could feel the scrutinizing gaze from the ghoul, even if he couldn't see it. Danse swallowed. The harsh crack of his voice and the implied command had had a... striking effect on him. He felt his stomach lurch a little and a spread of warmth over his skin.

Hancock's voice came again, now gentle and soothing. Suspiciously so. "C'mon, I know you're not here to talk, so why don't you tell me?" Hancock leaned in close, teeth and eyes catching the smallest glints of light from one of the far away lamps. A thin hand reached out and rough knuckles brushed over his chin and the side of his jaw before the fingers uncoiled and dug firmly into his cheek. A hot shiver wormed down Danse's back and he bit back a moan. "Don't wanna say it? Too shy?"

Danse licked his lips, feeling too warm and completely unable to produce any kind of sound. That fearful breathlessness had crept up again, and Hancock just kept making it worse. Bastard. The ghoul shook him gently, twisting his head side to side as he spoke again, smoky breath intimately rolling over him and eyes staring all the way through him. "You're too easy to read, man. I hope you're not a card player." He wasn't. Danse swallowed and knew his breathing and even his pupils were further betraying him.

Hancock giggled, still close enough to kiss him but just lurking there instead, right in his face. "Need me to be the brave one for you? Want me to say it? The big, bad brotherhood paladin wants a skinny, druggie ghoul to boss him around a bit," he said, slow and grinning. "Yeah?"

The heat in his body was enormous. Why was it like this? No one else scared him like Hancock. Got under his skin like this. A rush of embarrassment flowed through him as he closed his eyes in agreement and quietly said "Yes."

The thin fingers relaxed and drew down his face and over his throat as he barked a short laugh into Danse's face. "You're pretty fuckin' twisted, Danny. I love it."

His head swam, maybe with relief or maybe with lust, as Hancock clasped his hand and pulled him to his feet with a grunt. And then a soft nudge against his chest and arm as he was turned and guided into the warm stillness of Hancock's room.

It was even darker than the porch when the door clicked shut and the deadbolt turned. He'd been in here once before and knew the general layout, but the total blackness pressed in around him and made him feel lost, unnerved. And he knew Hancock could see every little twitch and movement he was making in the darkness. "Are you going to turn on a light?" he asked, lips dry again and addressing the blank void in front of him.

Hancock's chuckle sounded behind him and to the left, sounding both ominous and overly cheery. A finger trailed over the back of his neck and Danse flinched away before he could catch himself. His eyes were wide and straining into the nothing. Hancock spoke, now directly in front of him. "No," he said. "No, I think I want you like this for now. At my mercy." The ghoul's raspy growl got him going any time he heard it, and now was no different. Maybe even more intensely due to the loss of sight and how hard his ears were straining to pick up the slack. It didn't help that the majority of the things out of his mouth were so suggestive or just plain dirty.

Danse could hear Hancock shrug out of his overcoat and toss it aside. He was hovering somewhere between madly impatient for something to happen and complete terror.

"So," Hancock began. Danse's scalp prickled with anticipation as he stood waiting. "I'm pretty fuckin' excited. Let's get this shit going. Get down on your knees, paladin."

He did, dropping to one knee then tucking the other leg under him as well. Ankles folded behind him and he rolled his shoulders into a comfortable upright position that curved his chest out. Hancock hadn't touched him yet, but he could sense him standing right behind his back with his legs on either side of his own.

"That's a good boy," Hancock murmured. His hands lightly touched the sides of Danse's neck, startling him again, then quickly moved to thread into his hair. His fingers petted across then sank in and carded through the short strands, scratching lightly over his skin and sending shivers down his neck to sink into the pit of his stomach. He sort of liked the fixation Hancock had on his hair, taking any opportunity to touch it or stick his face in it. He took care to keep it cut and washed and both the appreciation and sensation were nice. Not to mention the faint suggestion of possessiveness he got from it. The hands pulled tight after the short exploration and Danse was held still in the darkness, gasping at the sharp feeling.

"And now... you're going to suck my cock." Conversational, casual tone. Which then dropped to almost menacing. "You have a problem with that?"

Another chill raced through him, zipping through his stomach and down to his groin. Not so long ago he would have had an enormous problem with it. Even now, the carefully-practiced brotherhood tenets hammered in the background of his thoughts. But his body and the now part of him screamed out for it, drowning out everything else. Touch him, please him, do whatever he says.

Submit.

"No, sir," he whispered to his hands, cheeks heating slightly.

Hancock made a pleased rumble in response. He pulled further back on Danse's hair, lifting his head and exposing his throat to the room before responding. "That's what I like to hear."

Hancock stepped around to Danse's front, the warm body blocking the light flow of air through the room. A hand drew down his face, the textured palm caressing and then curling around to the nape of Danse's neck. His nose was pressed up against the soft, pliable leather covering Hancock's hip, and then dragged to the side over the hard tent of the bulge there. Reaching out and setting his hands against the hot thighs for balance, he let Hancock slowly grind against his nose and lips, tentatively opening his mouth to lick and softly bite at the leather-covered arousal. There was a husky moan of "Oh, fuck yeah..." as Hancock breathed deeply and paused his movements to watch the pink tongue slicking up the front of his pants with saliva. Danse hazarded a slow glance up through his eyelashes, not that he could see anything, and it had the desired effect. A louder rush of breath before Hancock's hands fell away and started rapidly untying and unbuckling his garments.

He'd touched Hancock before, felt the valleyed expanse of his stomach and legs, ran his fingers over his face and neck, even stroked him to a very vocal completion. But this would be new ground. Maybe he was ready for it, maybe not. But he needed it. Needed this closeness and needed to test this uneasy trust they'd built up.

"Open your mouth, Danse."

He did, a little ashamed but eager to obey. His lips parted and let his jaw hang open, laying his tongue out to cover his bottom teeth.

"Wish you could see how good you look right now," Hancock said, lightly touching the side of his jaw, and then he was sliding in over Danse's tongue.

Danse reached out, grasping at the waist of Hancock's lowered pants, twisting his hands into them for some kind of control or grounding as he closed his lips around the strangely-textured head and sucked him in. He knew he was inexperienced, but tried to make up for it with the need and desire he felt. Softly stroking with one hand as he slid his tongue up and down the long shaft. Pressing deeper, as deep as he could, lips and nose crushed up against Hancock's body and firmly sealing off his throat for a few seconds. Feeling himself get harder and harder at each insistent pull and nudge to his hair and head. At each low, shuddering inhale and the alternating words of praise and grunted curses. At the burning and aching in his jaw and body.

He went on until Hancock grabbed him and held his head still, though still making short, jittery thrusts into his mouth. Hancock asked, seemingly to himself, "Where should this go, huh? Suck it down and swallow it? Or... mmm. Maybe all over that beautiful face."

Beautiful? Danse thought, somewhat stunned as the question was silently answered. Hancock released him and pulled away, sliding his hand down over himself and the slick layer of spit left there.

Hancock's voice was rough and breathy, and Danse could hear the fevered slippery motion of his hand so close to his face. "Look up at me and close your eyes, sweetheart." He did, keeping his eyes open for just a moment as he licked his wet lips before obeying. He heard the low, animal growl as his tongue ran over his skin and it was only a few more seconds before he felt the hot jets of come strike his face and slowly start to drip. He couldn't help the moan that came from him as he felt each spurt hitting his cheeks and nose, loving the feeling of debasement and being used.

Hancock sank to his knees in front of Danse, breaths still coming out heavy and harsh. A hand touched his face, finger trailing through one of the splashes of come. "Look at what a mess you are," he whispered, face so close to Danse's. So close he could... Danse's eyes shot open as he felt Hancock's tongue slipping up his cheek, carefully licking through the cooling trails on his face and thumbs moving to swipe away the rest. Stunned, Danse moaned against Hancock's shoulder, feeling a tight shiver each place Hancock's tongue touched him. Hancock laughed then, swallowing and wiping his hands off. "You like that?"

He did. It was bizarre; really every single thing he did with this capricious demon, no matter how degenerate or out of his comfort zone, he managed to enjoy. Danse breathed hard, still pressed up against the ghoul's body and his head in the crux of his neck and whispered, "Yeah." It was how wild Hancock was. Short, slender, but filled with this unpredictable ferocity that was magnetic. Even before, it was something he'd noticed and been unwillingly drawn to. He lay his hand on the front of Hancock's shirt, feeling the hard, but steady pulsing of his heart under the thin fabric and tough plane of wiry muscle. Just to check and make sure he was real and not some apparition set here purely to torture and fulfill.

Hancock's hand slid over his shoulder, and then down his back. It came to him that they were both still fully dressed, and Danse couldn't figure out if it made him feel more comfortable or less. "Let's turn on that light now, huh? I wanna see you a little better for this. I've got one more in me, and then it's your turn, cutie pie." Then Hancock leaned back and caught Danse's jaw in his hand again, thumb resting on his lower lip. His breath still had the faintest trace of tobacco smoke on it. "Don't come until I say, you got it? Be good and it'll be real nice when you do." He didn't bother mentioning what would happen if he wasn't good.

"I got it."

"Mm." Hancock released his hold and stood, walking away. Then the snap of a light switch and the relatively blinding glow of his desk lamp filled the room. It was a low wattage light, dusky gold and pointed into the corner, but after the absolute blackness of the room it might as well have been as bright as the sun. Both of them squinting, Hancock turned around and looked over at Danse, leaning against the wall with his thumbs hooked into his waistband. It was the first time Danse had really seen him that night.

He looked the way he always did; at ease, but still watchful and ready for anything. His pants had been haphazardly jerked back up and refastened over the angular hips, shirtsleeves rolled up over his elbows, and shirt itself hanging half open and showing the jut of his collarbones and top of his chest. Hancock smiled at him. It wasn't the placating politician's smile he'd seen on him before, directed at the caravaners or at an upset blackjack opponent. It was hard and devious and full of teeth. "Get up and come stand in front of me."

Danse stood, a little wobbly and knees protesting, and crossed the room to stop a couple feet from where Hancock was leaning. He'd been partly to fully hard this whole time; each little thing Hancock did or said or had him do contributing to what was by now kind of a sticky, chafing mess. But he felt like he'd hit his groove and could keep this up for a while. Could take it. He just wanted more, to feed his traitorous body and hungry mind.

"Strip and then get your ass in my bed on all fours."

The clothes came off. A little faster than he intended, going far too quickly to qualify as a tease, but he wanted whatever Hancock was going to give him too much. Too impatient for it. But he got a dark-eyed nod of approval and went to kneel on the soft bed, the mattress far more forgiving on his knees than the wooden floor. After a moment of hesitation he eased forward to drop onto his hands as well.

"Turn and face this way."

Danse shuffled around, bringing his feet up after him and watched Hancock push away from the wall and move to disappear behind him. His breath caught as the bed sank in behind him, warmth suffusing his face at the feeling of complete exposure. He battled the urge to lower his hips and twist his legs back together and won out.

"I like how obedient you're being." A hand settled over the small of his back, warm and firm, then curving over the swell of one asscheek and coming to rest right beneath it. Hancock's fingers pinched lightly at the skin as he chuckled to himself, "How should I reward you, huh? Maybe a spanking?"

A hard twinge ran down Danse's spine and he answered quickly. Perhaps too eager, but to hell with his pride. It had long since slunk away, at least for tonight. "Yes. Please."

Hancock laughed again, left hand settling on Danse's hip and the right lifting away. "And so polite too..." It came back gently, with just enough force to make his flesh jiggle. A thoughtful stroke over the point of impact. Then another hit. Just a hint of a sting in that one. Danse bit his lip, anxious. Fearing the harder strikes but craving them even more. The hand came down again in a proper slap. The sound was a flat crack in the room that drove a low mmmph from him. They got harder and faster, alternating sides as Danse gasped and jerked against the hand anchoring his hip still. He could feel his skin burning and well on its way to being sore when the smacks started tapering off, trading off for soft rubs from Hancock's ridged hands. He drew in a last hitching breath against the stinging of his skin, hearing Hancock quietly ask, "How's that?"

"Outstanding," he breathed. His back was oily with sweat, his legs were twitching, and he knew his ass was a glowing, shiny pink in the aftermath of that onslaught. The pain was good. Something familiar but exciting. He felt his dick twitching in the open air, the tip slick and cool and his balls tight and aching. But he could take it, do what Hancock said. Let him deprive him for now.

The hands were still on him, one on each tingling asscheek. The fingers tightened and released, then Hancock's mouth replaced them, kissing and sucking and then the sharp pinch of teeth making Danse cry out. His skin felt extremely sensitive, and the bites were so close to being way too much. "Nngh! Please," he panted.

Another nip and then a thumb smoothed over it. "Whaddaya need, Danny?" His voice was still quiet and even, perfectly in control. The timbre still exceedingly pleasant to his ears.

"I need... aagh! Fuck!" A particularly vicious bite forced his words into an embarrassingly high pitch. He could feel the stretch of a grin against the wounded skin there. "Gentle, please."

"Gentle, huh. Normally I'd say no, but you asked me so nice." He spread Danse's ass further apart and ghosted a hot breath there. "I can do gentle for a few minutes." And then his tongue was on him, licking a slow line from his balls to his hole, impossibly soft and wet. Teased against it, pursed his lips and sucked, then just laid his tongue flat and slowly rubbed up and down. Danse squirmed and shifted back against the slippery mouth. It felt so odd but so damned good; he could feel himself tensing and loosening in response to each swipe. And then the tongue stiffened and forced its way into him, past the tight ring of muscle to lap and wiggle there before drawing out and plunging back in. Danse couldn't help all the embarrassing noises he was making and clawed into the sheets as he moaned and whined. Thin fingers joined Hancock's tongue in delving in and working him open and he nearly screamed when a fingertip brushed his prostate.

"Damnit, please please," he begged. "That's not fair."

Hancock growled in between the wet slides of his tongue, "Suck it up, paladin. Put some of that vaunted military training to use for once, huh." He moved back, fumbled for a moment, and then slapped his cock into the cleft of Danse's ass, dragging and sliding on all the spit left there. "You can hold it," he grunted, repositioning and slipping in, with barely any resistance. Danse exhaled loudly and told himself he wasn't going to rip Hancock's sheets in two. "Hold it."

Hancock fucked him hard and vicious, pulling out a little and then slamming his hips up into the backs of his thighs. Fingers clawed into his shoulders and twisted him upright, back arched until his head was lying against Hancock's shoulder. Hand wrapped around his throat, touching the two pulse points there and he was laughing into Danse's ear and biting into the muscle of his neck. "You're so good, " he whispered as he jerked up into him. "Mmm, just like that." Harder and deeper, breath catching and then spilling inside him. A few last slow pumps and Hancock withdrew but didn't move away. He just held Danse there, still laughing quietly, one sweaty hand on his neck and the other gripping his ass, pulling it apart and watching his come gradually spill out of Danse's ass and trickle down his balls and the inside of his thigh. It was a thoroughly bizarre sensation. "Now. I bet you're just aching, aren't you?" Hancock asked behind him. He couldn't tell if the put-on sympathy was going to lead to relief or more teasing.

Danse nodded silently, letting Hancock push him down and roll him over into his bed. His hands clutched stupidly at his own shoulders, wanting more than anything to curl one around his dick and squeeze and shove into it. Inelegant maybe, but at least it would rid him of this godforsaken tidal wave of pressure he was feeling. Hancock settled over him, inky eyes and thin lips smiling at the bloodless white marks Danse was digging into his arms. "Well, let's get you taken care of then," he said, voice low and smooth and sending a shiver through him.

A pathetic whimper fell out of Danse as Hancock knelt and drew him into his mouth. The long licks and gentle suction were plenty to send him over, but Hancock ran his fingers through the slick mess on his legs and slid back into him, soft and insistent and touching off the release he'd been dying for. His eyes rolled shut, hands like a vise on the mattress below, and long, desperate breaths tearing in and out of his mouth as his hips rose up and he shot into Hancock's mouth. "Oh fuck, John," he moaned, feeling like he was crossing some unsaid boundary, but also feeling right in some way. Hancock swallowed against him, the sudden tightness making him nearly shriek. The last waves hit and rolled over him, making his body shudder and clench and finally relax. Melting into the pillow and cotton blankets. Laying under Hancock in the yellow light of the lamp and his body feeling at goddamn peace for once.

Hancock cleaned them up and Danse just lay there, accepting whatever he was doing. Keeping the thoughts crowding into his head at bay, and just laying quietly, still naked and sprawled out. He watched Hancock unlace his boots and scoot them under the bed, reach over to his jacket pocket and dig til he came back up with another cigarette. Lighting it and tucking it into the corner of his mouth as he leaned back against the wall. He got through half and plucked it out, offered it to Danse who shook his head... but then took it anyway, one drag and handing it back.

Then that sexy rasp again, interrupting his nothing-thoughts. "Gonna stay the night?" Danse's breath caught, but Hancock looked over at him completely unperturbed. "Think this thing can fit us both," he said, finishing his smoke and smushing it against the bedpost. "I'm fine either way, but pick one. I'm bushed."

Did he want to? Yes. Was he terrified of the implications this brought to his mind? Also yes. He didn't want... whatever this was that they had to get complicated. Didn't want the worry. Hoped Hancock wasn't looking for anything more from him, because he didn't know if he had anything else to give at this point. But Hancock had never asked; never pushed Danse for anything beyond the… physical things they got up to and some common respect. And never asked for an explanation. For that he was silently grateful. But this still unsettled him.

Danse rolled over to one side of the bed and stared at the wall. "This is a mistake," he said, quiet enough that it might have been to himself.

Hancock looked at him for a moment, dark eyes trailing over the concerned tilt of Danse's eyebrows and the strain in his jaw. He crawled up and leaned over the bed's railing to snap off the light, plunging them back into complete black. Tossed a blanket over the two of them as he settled in and got comfortable against the other body sharing his space.

"Everything's a mistake in some way, Danse. Nothin's perfect." He yawned. "Go the hell to sleep."