
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/895523.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Avengers
  Relationship:
      Billy_Kaplan/Teddy_Altman
  Character:
      Billy_Kaplan, Teddy_Altman
  Additional Tags:
      old_fic
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-23 Words: 2166
****** WHEREIN ANEURYSMS ARE A SERIOUS CONCERN ******
by atti_(attilatehbun)
Summary
     Billy has certain bad habits. Occasionally they don't actually lead
     to disaster.
Notes
     originally posted 12.10
::
Billy was not - unfortunately - in the habit of knocking. He was generally of
the opinion that if his younger brothers, in their never-ending pursuit of the
perfect means of annoyance, couldn’t respect his privacy, well then, he wasn’t
going to bother extending them the same courtesy. Which worked fine and all,
except for how the habit sort of...spread to the rest of his life. (The whole
‘learning to teleport’ thing just enabled it even more.)
So when he showed up at the warehouse looking for Teddy and didn’t find him
embedded in the couch the way he tended to get after a few too many sessions of
Left 4 Dead, he didn’t think twice about just walking through to Teddy’s room,
fumbling through his bag for the comics he’d just bought as he did. (Billy also
had something of a problem with looking where he was going, and usually the
results were painful. And hilarious, to Tommy.)
These results, well, these results weren’t hilarious, and they were only really
painful in the way that all the blood rushing suddenly away from one’s head is
painful.
The first thing Billy noticed were the sounds. There was kind of a slick noise,
almost rhythmic, and it was underscored by what was almost certainly ragged
breathing. There was a gasp that might generously be called a moan.
Billy looked up.
- Now, it’s not like they hadn’t done plenty of stuff. They were hormonal
teenage boys-- moreover, hormonal teenage boys who lived kind of dangerous
lives that led directly to huge surges in adrenaline and huge surges of relief
when certain people made it back to base in one piece. Billy was familiarly
comfortable by now with a lot: the weight of Teddy’s cock in his hand or the
way Teddy’s belly tasted salty with sweat after awhile and how the muscles
there jumped when Billy sucked on his navel or That Thing Teddy did, that trick
of the tongue that only a shapeshifter could manage. So, Billy knew all of this
(and if it still got Billy’s blood rushing too fast, that was sort of to be
expected because, well, Teddy). But there were other things, things Billy
didn’t really let himself think about yet for fear of an over-chafed dick, or
possibly some kind of sex-based aneurysm.
(Aneurysms don't work like that, the rational part of Billy’s brain tended to
pipe up. But Billy, along with knocking and looking where he was going? Was
also not so great at always listening to the rational part of his brain.)
So Billy was sort of unprepared when he looked up from his bag. -
Teddy was kneeling on his bed, knees bent apart and toes hooked into the
sheets. He was wearing a tshirt, but it was rumpled and ruched up in a way that
generally suggested to the eye that no, actually, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at
all. Adding to that was the fact that his boxers were around his ankles, so the
line of his body was all torsoskinhipskinlongleanthigh. He had reached one hand
between his legs, and it was. His hand. His fingers, they were. They--
Billy’s fingers went nerveless, and he had just enough time to think, Sex-based
aneurysm, incoming, before Teddy turned and saw him.
“Oh s-shit, Billy,” he said, flushing impossibly redder than he had been. He
scrabbled at the sheets, clearly trying to bunch up enough time with them to
regain his composure. “I--I--” he stammered, and Billy noted in a sort of
detached way that Teddy’s fingers where he grabbed at the covers were still
kind of slick and wet.
Billy tried to speak, but his mouth was far far too dry to let him.
“It was-- I was just--” Teddy tried again, embarrassed and trying to find a way
to talk around the fact that Billy had just caught him fucking himself with his
fingers, and Billy could see how hard his cock still was, even through the
sheets, and the comics and soda that Billy had brought to help them spend the
afternoon suddenly seemed monumentally unimportant, because Teddy was really
really adorable when he stuttered like that and also, Billy had just walked in
on his boyfriend fucking himself with his fingers and Billy really needed to
help with that.
Needed.
Immediately.
“You were--” he said, because apparently his brain would only let him speak to
(badly) state the obvious. He swallowed as he crossed to the bed.
“I just-- It--” Teddy started.
“Was really really hot,” Billy finished and did the only thing left for him to
do.
When he finally broke away from kissing Teddy, Billy became distantly aware
that they were both now panting rather heavily and he was apparently straddling
Teddy’s knees. It felt like one of Teddy’s hands was under his shirt, but it
was getting a bit lost in the complete mental overload he was having. “Shit” he
muttered, and kissed Teddy again, kissed his lips, his jaw, his neck, because
he absolutely had to and also to give himself a minute to sort things out.
“I really want to-- Would it be alright if I-- Can I just--” he said against
the skin of Teddy’s neck, against the groan in Teddy’s chest, against the
beating of his own heart.
“Fuck yes,” Teddy said immediately, and pushed at the sheets. “Please.”
Billy scrambled awkwardly down the bed - because, motor control, what motor
control, haha? - until he was kneeling between Teddy’s thighs. Teddy’s cock was
flushed and heavy where it lay against his belly, and wet at the tip, and it
took every ounce of self control Billy had not to just lean down and take it
into his mouth as he had so many times before. He bit gently at the jut of
Teddy’s hip instead. He knew what to do, it’s not like he didn’t know anyone
with five minutes and a computer could know, but right now. Right now he needed
to see, see up close what he had only gotten the barest glimpse of when he came
into the room.
“Show me,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Teddy said, chest heaving, “yeah, okay.”
The was the click of a cap, and Billy looked up Teddy’s body to see him
spreading more lube over his fingers. Fuck, even that was gorgeous, and Billy’s
brain was clearly either already deeply screwed up (probable) or thoroughly
scrambled and well on its way to that aneurysm (hopefully not). And then he
decided he didn’t really want to deal with that particular issue as there were
more pressing concerns at hand. He snatched the tube to spread some over his
own fingers, then paused and thought about himself, and thought about his
various character peculiarities, and thought about Things That Stain And Need
To Be Explained, and sat back on his heels to remove his shirt first.
By the time he was done all that, the flush was back in Teddy’s cheeks and his
breath was catching and Billy looked down and oh-oh god that should really not
be allowed, for the sake of the sanity of all neurotic, gay superheros ever.
Teddy’s fingers were moving so slowly, a slick slow rhythm that bordered on
hypnotic, and his hips jerked upward - just a bit, like he couldn’t help it -
with every insistent press. Billy scooted down a little more, pulled Teddy’s
thigh up over his shoulder, and before he even fully knew what he was doing,
had slid a finger in to join Teddy’s two.
“Aaaah, fuck.”
“Is that okay? Was that too much?” Billy looked up to where Teddy was propped
up on one elbow, his mouth slightly slack, and jesus he was breathtaking, and
Billy was just about the luckiest person in the goddamn universe right now.
“N-no, it’s good,” Teddy said. “Fuck, it’s really good.” Billy grinned at that.
Then Teddy slid his fingers out, which Billy took as an invitation to add more
of his own, and when Teddy moaned and his head dropped back Billy thought he
might just die.
“Do you,” Billy said finally, around the lump in his throat, “do you do this a
lot?”
“Not-not all the time,” Teddy panted, “But sometimes - ah - sometimes I need--”
Billy twisted his hand and Teddy moaned there, and Billy was never going to
stop replaying this in his head, not ever.
Billy clutched at Teddy’s hip with his free hand and tried to catch his breath.
“Need what, T? Please, need what?”
Teddy bucked, clenched around Billy’s fingers, and Billy’s whole body felt
three sizes too small.
“You,” Teddy said, his words stumbling all over each other as they rushed to
get out, “you, I want it to be you, I think about that all the time, how badly
I want you and, fuck, fuck--”
“Shit, Teddy, shit, shit.” Billy mouthed at the join of Teddy’s hip, lower lip
dragging against the skin there. “Oh god.”
“Billy, please-- You have to-- My cock, I’m so close,” Teddy groaned.
“Don’t have to do anything,” Billy said. He wanted the words to be sarcastic,
in control, but they came out broken and ragged and he’d barely said them
before his mouth was on Teddy’s cock, tongue pressing flat as he slid up.
There was a whuuffff as Teddy’s arm gave out and he fell backwards to the
mattress, but all that meant was that his hand was now free to bury itself in
Billy’s hair, and Billy kind of loved that a lot, so he was really not going to
complain. No, he was just going to take Teddy’s cock deeper into his mouth, and
twist his fingers some more because Teddy seemed to like that, and mostly just
do his best not to burst.
It didn’t take very long after that. Teddy was probably already pretty worked
up before Billy even got there, but Billy was still taken off guard a little by
the sudden way Teddy’s body clamped down, the squeeze of his body around
Billy’s fingers that made Billy think fuck, if that were my--, before Teddy
groaned long and low, and came.
Billy did his best to swallow and slid his fingers out as carefully as he
could, kissing Teddy’s stomach when he hissed a little. He tried to readjust
himself, but before Billy could do more than let Teddy’s leg down, Teddy had
grabbed him by the back of the neck and basically hauled him bodily up the bed
into a kiss.
Once again, when they finally broke apart, Billy found himself in a different
position than where he started. Now he was cradled between Teddy’s legs, and he
could feel Teddy’s chest heaving beneath his own. Teddy’s eyes crinkled around
the edges, and his nose and cheeks were still a little flushed, and suddenly
every single thing that Billy had not let himself think came rushing into his
head all at once because holy shit he had just finger-fucked his boyfriend and
that meant all of those things were suddenly possible.
Teddy spread open for him, Teddy on his hands and knees, Teddy saying ‘now,
please, now’, Teddy’s whole body rocking as Billy thrust into him, the sweat
along Teddy’s spine as his arms gave out and he dropped forward onto his
elbows, Teddy asking him to lick lower, no, lower, Teddy’s hand on his own dick
as he rode Billy’s
“Oh fuck, Teddy,” he said. He dropped his head to Teddy’s shoulder, dizzy with
the realization and the fact that his cock chose that moment to remind him that
no, there was no blood in his head because it was all down south and maybe
something could be done about that? It would like that very much, or anything
that wasn’t just lying around like the aneurysm had finally gotten him because,
oh hey, erections trapped in jeans are not actually very fun or comfortable.
Billy groaned into Teddy’s neck and bucked down against him before he could
stop himself. But Teddy just grinned and kissed him, deep and thorough, as he
reached down to unzip Billy’s fly.
“Don’t move,” he breathed into Billy’s ear, then nipped it, and before Billy
could tilt his head to kiss him again, Teddy had slid all the way down
underneath him until he could push Billy’s boxers down just enough to free his
dick.
“What are you d--” Billy tried to say, but then it became abundantly clear what
Teddy was doing when Billy’s cock was engulfed in wet heat a second before
Teddy did That Thing with his tongue.
After that, Billy doesn’t get out much more than a hrrglnnn or two, possibly
with a fuck, T thrown in, at least not for a while. Luckily neither of them
particularly minds, nor is it unexpected as, like knocking or listening to his
rational brain, coherency is something Billy has never been particularly good
at.
Good thing a few bad habits aren’t the end of the world
::fin::
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