Chapter Text
Carver had only gotten halfway out of his uniform before Herc grabbed him. Pushing him up against the wall, grinning like he had all the time in the world.
Big hands on his waist, gripping, pulling, shoving him back against the wall.
Carver huffed out a breath, startled but not surprised. “Jesus, again?”
Herc grinned, all teeth. “Not my fault you look good in uniform, Carv.”
Carver snorted. “I’m not in uniform.”
“You kinda are.” Herc’s fingers dragged over the unbuttoned edge of his uniform shirt, knuckles brushing against Carver’s bare stomach. “All official up top, party down below.”
Carver rolled his eyes, but his breath hitched as Herc slid a hand under the fabric, fingers splaying against his ribs.
"You got a thing for this or something?"
Herc grinned, leaning in. "Nah. Just respectin’ the badge."
Carver laughed, sharp and breathless. "You? Respecting the badge? Herc, I saw you using that shit to open a beer last week."
Herc shrugged. "Yeah, well. You ever seen a beer look this good in uniform?"
Carver scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Yeah? And yet,” Herc muttered, gripping Carver’s belt, tugging him forward, pressing their hips together, “here we are.”
Carver hissed out a breath.
"Eager much?" He mutters, but he’s already palming at Herc’s belt.
"Nah," Herc grins, dragging his fingers under Carver’s shirt, gripping his waist. "Just got ideas."
Carver snorts. "That supposed to scare me?"
"Guess we’ll find out."
Then Herc drops to his knees.
Carver freezes.
Watches Herc looking up at him, smug as hell, big hands sliding over his thighs, up to his waist.
Carver should have a comeback for this. It’s too easy. You don’t let a guy drop on his knees for you and not bust his balls for it. Not when he’s looking so fucking cocky about it.
But his brain short-circuits the second Herc noses at the front of his jeans, mouthing at the bulge through the fabric.
"Fuck’s gotten into you?" Carver mutters, but his breath is already shaky.
"Told you, I got ideas." Herc grins, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over the zipper, fingers working at the button.
Carver’s fingers tighten on Herc’s head, not pushing, just holding.
Herc pops the button, drags the zipper down slow.
Then he leans in, drags his tongue along the length of Carver’s cock through his boxers.
Carver sucks in a sharp breath.
"Jesus—"
"You good up there?" Herc grins, breath hot against him.
"Motherfucker, I swear to god—" Carver grits out, then sucks in another breath as Herc bites at the inside of his thigh, grinning against his skin.
"Look at you, all impatient."
"Herc, if you don’t—"
Herc laughs softly, but he finally pulls Carver’s boxers down.
Then—his mouth is on him, warm, wet, sucking slow. Carver grunts, head tilting back against the wall.
It’s good. Too fucking good.
But then—Herc stops. Carver glares down at him.
"The fuck—"
"Turn around."
Carver hesitates. "Excuse me?"
Herc smirks. "I said turn around, Sergeant Carver."
Carver narrows his eyes. "You giving me orders now?"
"You scared?"
Carver’s jaw ticks.
Then—he turns.
Leans forward, bracing a hand against the wall.
Herc grins. "That’s a good boy."
Carver snaps his head around. "Try that shit again and see what happens."
Herc just laughs, palms at his lower back like that’s supposed to calm him down; then drags his hands over Carver’s ass, squeezing slow.
Carver inhales sharply, but doesn’t move away.
"Knew you liked that," Herc mutters. Carver doesn’t dignify that with a response.
Then Herc’s mouth is back on him.
Carver braces himself, breath shuddering as Herc licks along the back of his thigh, up to the crease of his ass, biting just to feel Carver twitch.
"Goddamn," Carver mutters under his breath, fingers flexing against the wall.
Herc grins against his skin. Then he drags his tongue over him, slow, teasing. Carver jerks.
"Motherfucker—"
Herc grips his hips, keeps him steady.
"Told you I had ideas."
Then he does it again.
Carver bucks forward, cursing, gripping at the wall like it’s gonna save him.
He feels wet. It’s fucking filthy.
And Carver fucking loves it.
"Shit, Herc—" he pants, whole body taut. Herc grins against his skin, gripping his hips, pulling him back against his mouth.
Carver gasps, whole body shaking.
Herc sucks a deep mark into his ass, then licks back over it, slow, lazy.
"You still with me, Carv?"
Carver grits his teeth. "You’re lucky I don’t have my gun."
Herc chuckles, then palms Carver’s cock, stroking him slow, matching the drag of his tongue.
Carver groans, loud, hips rocking forward, body caught between both sensations.
He can’t even think anymore. Herc’s holding him up, licking into him, jerking him off, like he’s got all the time in the world. He feels heat pooling low in his stomach, thighs tensing, the cold wall under his hands a small reprieve from the warmth of Herc’s hands on him.
"Herc—fuck, I’m—"
Herc squeezes his cock, strokes faster, fattens his tongue against him. And Carver breaks.
Comes hard, gasping, body shuddering. Rocking against it.
Herc doesn’t let go. Just rides it out with him, mouth still teasing, hands still working him over until Carver’s spent, panting, forehead pressed against the wall.
"Holy shit," Carver mutters, trying to catch his breath.
Herc grins, pressing one last lazy kiss to the base of his spine before standing up behind him.
Carver turns, still breathing heavy.
Herc’s hard, grinning like he just won something.
"What?" Carver mutters.
Herc just grabs his wrist, drags his hand to his cock. "Remember how I said I had ideas?"