Chapter Text
When Hughie went to the third bar that night, already drunk but still devastated over Robin, he knew he was asking for trouble. He could barely walk straight and he was alone. He was looking for something messy, something to distract him, something to keep him from caving in on himself or jumping over a ledge. Then again, drinking until he could barely see straight was not the way to keep himself out of danger. If anything, he was walking straight into trouble.
Trouble being tall, dark, and handsome leaning against the bar with the thickest beard Hughie had ever seen and a leather jacket he wanted to run his cheek against. Trouble drank whiskey neat and had lips Hughie would fall into the road for. Trouble had thick hands that made Hughie drool. Trouble had the darkest eyes Hughie had ever seen, ones that could burn men alive. Trouble paid Hughie no mind when he sat down next to him and ordered another shot of vodka. Hughie tried to pretend he wasn’t giving Trouble secret glances, but Trouble saw right through him, a dark brow raised when Hughie glanced at him a little too long. Hughie wasn’t sure if Trouble would ignore Hughie for the rest of his stay at the bar or punch him in the nose if he staid any longer. That didn’t stop Hughie from taking his shot and ordering another one.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Trouble asked.
Which made Hughie realize Trouble was just as drunk as him, British voice slurring through the words. God, his fucking voice made Hughie weak in the knees and he was thankful he was sitting down already.
Hughie downed his next shot before answering. “Break-up.” The bartender poured another and went down to the other end. What shithole had Hughie found himself in tonight?
“Cunt break your heart?” Hughie nodded. Trouble reached over and clinked his whiskey against Hughies glass. “I’ll drink to that, mate. I’m Butcher.”
From there, the two dissolved into a mutual storytelling about their woes and empty beds. Hughie didn’t pay attention to half of it, distracted by the steady stream of drinks Trouble supplied him and the hand he later laid on Hughie’s thigh as the night went on. Whiskey dick or not, Hughie was interested, more than interested in Trouble’s company.
When their tongues were both suitably loosened and their eyes were glazed over and it was nearing three in the morning and their thighs were side by side, Trouble gave him a leer and squeezed his hand on Hughie’s thigh asking,
“Your place or mine?”
Now was not the time to think about his dad, alone at home, probably worried sick about Hughie’s disappearance. Now was not the time to think at all. Hughie was wasted and had nothing else to do but follow Trouble to wherever he took him.
“Yours.”
Butcher paid for his tab as well as Hughie’s. As they waited for a cab outside, Butcher tucked his fingers just under the seam of his pants and nuzzled at the side of his neck, teeth latching onto Hughie’s ear, making him lean heavily against Butcher.
It was a relief to get into the cab. Not because Butcher stopped touching him and it gave Hughie some space to breathe, to lean his head against a window and think. No, the cab only gave him a place to sit, to not worry about his shaking legs. Butcher never stopped touching him, hand running up and down his inner thigh, almost touching him where he wanted him most, but not touching him yet. Butcher refused to say anything in the cab, even drunk, refused to look at Hughie too, staring straight ahead at the cabbie, pretending they weren’t drunk when they so clearly were. But Butcher did let Hughie rest his head on his neck, let him burrow his nose into the leather and let his mouth water. Butcher let him do all of that, rewarding him with a tight squeeze on his leg and a rumble in his chest.
It felt good to lean up against Trouble and let himself fall into the alcoholic haze he poured himself into. He felt good to be here in this car, away from all the troubles in the world and no thought to the consequences of tomorrow.
It felt good when Butcher carried him out of their cab and dragged him up the steps of his apartment building. It felt good to be pressed against the stairwell and get lost in Butcher’s mouth, in the insistent press of his tongue on his. He’d be embarrassed by his needy whines tomorrow, long after he’d left Butcher’s embrace. For now, Hughie let himself whine and mewl and go needy with Trouble because Butcher groaned low in his throat every time Hughie went soft, needy, compliant.
Butcher pulled him from the stairwell to his floor and then to his door, making stops along the way to make out against the walls and neighbors’ doors. By now Hughie was half-hard and debating whether or not coming in his pants would be that bad. It didn’t matter, Trouble was in charge here, cupping him through his pants, mumbling in Hughie’s ear what he was going to do to him. Butcher was a hot, firm line against him, and Hughie wanted to wrap himself around him like a snake and squeeze him for all he was worth. He wanted from Butcher all the good feelings he could get before sunrise.
They stumbled into the darkness of Trouble’s apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights. By now, Hughie’s shirt had been untucked from his jeans and Butcher’s was half-unbutton. Hughie bumped into counters and shelves, but Butcher knew the place well and led Hughie through the dark and into the bedroom. Butcher didn’t turn on the lights. Hughie almost wanted them on, to see the dark look in Butcher’s brown eyes, to see him in all his naked glory when Hughie eventually got him out of his clothes. But Hughie didn’t say much, tongue heavy from the booze and the press of Butcher’s tongue along his.
“Fuck,” Hughie gasped when Butcher unzipped his jeans and wrapped a hand around him through his boxers. “Fuck,” Hughie repeated when Butcher grazed his teeth around his neck and pushed him back towards the bed. Hughie sat down and Butcher crowded into the spread of his legs.
“Get these off,” Butcher growled tugging at his shirt. Hughie fumbled with his own arms, especially when Butcher pushed him back into the bed and tugged at his jeans. They got caught on Hughie’s shoes, trapping his legs like that, and Butcher left him like that too, his boxers still on, chest bare with the damned shirt finally off. Butcher leaned over him and let his hands touch Hughie’s thighs, feeling what little muscle was there. Then his hands tugged at the waist band of his boxers and Hughie mewled, needy and so hard. Butcher chuckled and tugged his boxers down, just enough for Hughie’s cock to be bare, to feel the cool air of Butcher’s apartment.
Trouble brushed a thumb against the underside and Hughie’s hips made an abortive thrust. “Eager are we?”
Hughie nodded, but then remembered Butcher couldn’t see him in the dark. He couldn’t make his lips move, so he raised his hips again and pressed more firmly into Butcher’s hand. Butcher chuckled again and then his hand disappeared.
Hughie whined at that.
Butcher was gone for a long moment and Hughie could hear the rustle of clothes being removed. Hughie’s mouth watered and he got further onto the bed, trying to kick off his shoes but having trouble. Then he felt hands at his ankles, Butcher taking off his sneakers where he couldn’t and tugging his jeans further down.
Hughie felt something land on the bed next to him and then the bed shift as a weight got onto it. Butcher’s knees landed on either side of his thighs, towering over Hughie, crowding into his space. Butcher pressed a kiss to the side of Hughie’s neck and Hughie bared himself to Trouble, weak and soft to Butcher’s fingers. Butcher rolled his hips into Hughie’s, a firm weight where he need him the most.
“Pretty thing like you need to get off? Is that it?” Butcher’s voice was low, solid. It wasn’t a question. There was the sound of a bottle opening. Hughie couldn’t help but nod. “What do you want? Want to get off?”
“Yeah—fuck—”
Butcher reached down and wrapped a wet hand around Hughie’s dick, the slick glide of lube on his cock. It was cold, but Butcher’s hand, big and thick, wrapped around him, and the alcohol already making him sleepy, Hughie’s head thudded onto the bed, buried in the pillows. Butcher jacked him off, kissing him on the throat, sucking bruises into his neck. Hughie’s hips raised to meet Butcher’s fist. He tried to make Butcher go faster, rolling his hips, hands going to Butcher’s head.
“Stop moving,” Butcher growled, stopping his hand and tightening his grip, just a momentary squeeze. “Or am I gonna have to hold you down?”
“Fuck,” Hughie squeeze his eyes shut.
“You like that?” Butcher started moving his hand again, slowly this time. “Wanna be held down?”
“Fuck, I—yeah, I—” Hughie pressed his hips firmly to the bed, thighs straining to keep them there.
“Good boy,” Butcher rewarded him by stroking him faster, his beard scraping against Butcher’s jaw. “Yeah, be good for me.”
Hughie tried to breathe through it, tried to gain some sense where he was, but he couldn’t. Everything had narrowed down to Butcher and his hands and how good they felt on him. Butcher dipped down from his cock to his balls to press at his hole, to tease at what was to come. Hughie tried to spread his legs but his boxers were stuck at his knees and he couldn’t widen his legs any further. Hughie keened, but didn’t try to fight it. Butcher pressed against his hole again and again but never went in. Hughie wanted him in, wanted to feel him fill him up, wanted him to hold him down and make Hughie take it. But then Butcher moved his hand away again and wrapped it around Hughie’s cock, stroking him faster now.
“Why aren’t—why won’t you fuck me?” Hughie gasped, wishing he could look into Butcher’s eyes.
“Drank too much, pretty boy,” Butcher chuckled. Hughie frowned. “Want you to though. Want you to cum. You gonna cum?”
“I—“ Butcher twisted his wrist on the upstroke, thumb rubbing at the slit at the top. Hughie hissed. “I, fuck, I’m—”
“Yeah? You’re gonna be good for me?” Butcher covered Hughie’s mouth with his. Hughie couldn’t answer, but he was moaning, trying to keep still as Butcher strokes him faster, kissed him harder, his beard scratching his cheeks, his weight heedy on top of him. “Cum for me, cum for me.”
His orgasm punched through him. Hughie’s head landed in the pillows, his eyes unseeing even in the dark. The alcohol, the orgasm, the presence of another person next to him, it kept Hughie’s head lighter than air. Butcher stroked him through it, kissing his jaw, and mumbling praises Hughie couldn’t hear. When it got too sensitive and Hughie mewled at the sensation, Butcher let him go. Pressed him further into the bed and laid beside him. Hughie was already falling asleep.