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Hank should have thought better of it before throwing himself down the rope leading to the arena - his knees aren't what they used to be, and he should be more carefull. Still, the rush of adrenaline before hitting the ground and messing up said knees is worth the pain. He hisses through his teeth as he lands in a patch of tall grass, sending a thumbs up to Connor and the groundskeeper on the platform above him. They're both watching him, the keeper with detached curiosity and Connor with an anxious tension in his body. The thumbs up doesn't seem to alleviate Connor's worries, and it only makes Hank more motivated to show the kid just how fucking capable he is.
Still, it's been a fucking while.
Hank used to keep up with new challenges up until a few years ago, but now there are so many new machines and such advanced weapons that the prospect of heading into one of the grounds has felt… well, daunting. But Hank is a Nora Brave, and he's a Hawk of the Hunter's Lodge, and that means that he sometimes has to subject himself to these challenges. It's all part of the package, unfortunately, even nowadays.
And maybe part of his reason for taking on the challenge is the fact that Connor looked downright terrified when the groundskeeper even vaguely suggested Hank try it out. Fuck, the kid may be an almost indestructable machine, and Hank may be an over ripe meatbag, but he refuses to be made into a brittle elder. So Hank accepted the challenge.
And now here he is, crouching in the grass as a fucking enormous tremortusk passes him. The machine is the biggest thing he's ever seen, and he's not been that acquainted with its arsenal. Best be careful at first.
Connor has already scanned and shown the data on it, pinpointing the cannon at its back, which is the main focus of the task: shoot the cannon off of the tremortusk and destroy three machines with it before the time runs out. Hank squints through the glare of the afternoon sun, finally spotting the cannon when the tremortusk turns its back to him. He could use one of those explosive arrows that he bought a few days ago at one of the Tenakth settlements. It should be able to shoot the cannon pff.
Clock's ticking, he thinks as he aims the arrow to the machine and fires it when he's sure it'll hit. The tremortusk jolts as the arrow hits its target and roars in fury when the blast comes and the cannon falls off of it. Right, this is his chance. Hank has been on his haunches for a few seconds too many and nearly falls flat on his ass when he gets up (his heavy armor doesn't make it any easier). But then the tusk whirls around, red lights blinking furiously, and Hank has no time left to think. Instinct takes over as he sprints, full force, to the cannon, hauling it up in his arms. Shit, it's heavy, but Hank has been living with Oserams for years, and it's showing in the way his muscles actually don't strain too bad. Maybe it's just the immediate danger of the situation, but he quickly forgets the pain and turns the weapon to its owner, loading it up. The tusk is a bit too close, so Hank backs up, even as it quickly closes the distance between them, trunk raised and to the side, ready for a killing blow. Just when it's about to knock him twenty feet in the air, the cannon finally goes off, hitting one of its ammo sacs and causing an explosive fire to erupt.
Hank is slightly knocked back by the wave of hot air, but quickly regains his stance. He loads the cannon up once more, aiming for the machine's core, and fires off. The tremortusk falls to the ground with a force that shakes the ground.
Hank blows out a loud breath. Two more machines to go. Behind him, he hears Connor calling for him, though Hank can't figure out the words, it sounds like a warning, judging by the tone of his voice. He turns around, a second too late, only to get a Clawstrider tail in his stomach. He falls to the ground and rolls around, landing on his front. Fuck, he's probably gonna throw up. Swallowing to keep it down, he has to think fast. The machine is too close to the cannon for him to get there, pick it up, and load it before he's attacked again. The Clawstrider shouts, looking like it's gearing up for a fire attack, and Hank fumbles for his bow again. He's got some shock ammo somewhere, he's sure of it.
The strider shoots at him and he has to duck and roll. It jumps to the side, shrieking. There, just a bit more distance and a few seconds before the machine finds him again through the fire and smoke. Hank's hand reaches for the arrow, finding it stuck between his others. The strider turns, shrieking and moving forward for another impact. It's almost at attack range and Hank is trying to stay calm as he scrambles through his quiver. There! There's the fucking arrow, Hank swears to himself as he manages to wrangle it out of the tangles.
He feels calmer with the arrow bristling in his grip, bow getting ready to shoot. This is a no brainer, he's done this so many times he could do it in his sleep. Not even the alarming proximity of the clawstrider freaks him out now, and he feels himself smiling as he aims it, just a hair away from the machine.
The clawstrider gets knocked out immediately, whining as the shocks takes over and immobilizes it, and Hank dashes back to the cannon. He grunts from the effort, but it doesn't matter. He's got this, he's in control again. The clawstrider barely has time to recoup before the blast of the cannon hits it and it goes down like a house of cards.
Fuck yeah! Hank refrains from jumping in the air with a fist pump, and instead heads to the middle of the area, where the last clawstrider is positioned. It barely has time to notice him before the cannon launches and the machine erupts into a ball of lightning.
There. The timer has stopped, and Hank can only hope he made it in time. The humiliation if he didn't…
But then he hears the cheers and whoops coming from the base, Connor jumping up and down in excitement. Even the groundskeeper claps his hands.
"Not bad for an old man, huh?" Hank calls up to them, wiggling the weapon in his arms, before dropping it with a loud clang. Satisfaction outweighs the fatigue, and when he climbs up to the base, he hardly feels the shaking in his arms.
Up on the platform, the groundskeeper is ready to hand out the badge, but first Hank gets attacked by an overeager android. Connor throws himself at Hank like a monkey, legs winding around his middle and face buried in his neck.
"You did it," Connor breathes, the surpise making Hank chuckle.
"What, you thought I'd let some machines kill me?"
Reluctantly lifting his head from the crook of Hank's neck, Connor stares at him. His eyes are electric. Hank gulps. He has just familiarized himself with that look, and he knows what Connor wants. It makes him hot uner the collar, knowing what that look means.
The groundskeeper clears his throat, breaking the spell.
"You want your badge or not?" He asks grumpily.
"Uh yeah," Hank coughs, setting Connor down and hoping the plates on his front will cover up the … situation in his pants.
"Thanks." With a shake of his hand, Hank grabs the badge, storing it in his pack. He has just about time to close it before he is dragged away by the hand.
And as soon as they're out of sight from the grounds, that's when Connor jumps him.
"That was so fucking hot, Hank," he growls between kisses, fisting one hand into Hank's hair and pulling. The pinpricks in his scalp by the tug makes Hank let out a high pitched moan, and he leans back in order to let Connor access more of his neck. Leaving love bites all along his skin, Connor holds on tighter, and Hanl hangs on for dear life.
"Allmother, what the fuck," Hank groans, hips twitching when he feels the hardness between Connor's legs. He tugs Connor into a more secluded area, tall bushes and trees surrounding them. He is sure that Connor is keeping some part of his background processes on the environment, but the thrill of doing this in the wild is just…
"Can't wait to find a shelter," Connor moans, trapping Hank against a tree trunk and exploring his mouth. It used to take Hank out of the moment, the way Connor uses his tongue like a delver's tool, but now it just makes it all hotter. "Gotta have you now."
Fuck yeah. Hank cradles Connor's head in his palm, adding just enough pressure at the top for him to get the hint, but not so hard that he'll see it as a command. Connor reacts immediately, his eyes on fire as he slowly lowers himself to his knees, lips parted. Hank's mind is reeling, he's clenching his fists, hard, thanking the trunk behind him that is holding him up.
It's a bit of a hassle, getting the front of Hank's gear off, and Connor gets frustrated enough that he simply rips it off, leaving Hank unprotected from incoming attacks.
Well, maybe that's a good thing right now.
"Hnngh," Hank groans as Connor unties the laces of his pants. "I don't have any extra gear with me."
He gets an unimpressed look from Connor in return, which - fuck - does something to him when Connor takes him out, wrapping his slender fingers around his length and giving it a couple of slow, torturous drags. "I'll buy you new ones, Baby," he says, and it sounds like a throwaway comment, like it's not a big deal to want Hank so much that he can't even take the time to get his clothes off, like calling Hank Baby and offering to buy him shit isn't extremely hot.
It may have sounded like Connor didn't think too much of the proposal, but when he licks a slow stripe along the underside of Hank's cock, he smiles smugly. Cheeky fucker. Hank lets out a shaky exhale, his chest and neck beading with sweat.
And those are not the only parts of him beading.
Connor drags the flat of his tongue against the slit, lapping it all up, and fuck, Hank can't breathe.
His face is heating up, his hands slipping against the trunk as Connor decides he's wasted enough time, swallowing him down to the root. Miles away, Hank hears the sound of Skydrifters passing through the air. He's glad they don't notice his surprised yelp or his loud panting.
Connor presses his nose against the hairs on Hank's belly, moaning loudly and swallowing. With his hands gripping Hank hard by the hips, Hank has no control. All he can do is try to stay upright as Connor takes what he wants, fueled by some carnal need to claim, to protect.
If Hank wasn't lurching straight towards the edge, he would call this a sweet moment. As it is, his ears are ringing and his legs shaking, and Connor keeps massaging the head of his cock with his fancy, expensive throat. Connor doesn't even need to breathe, so instead of letting up, he keeps swallowing, keeps the suction up, slurping and moaning like it's the best damn meal in the world, and when he suddenly pulls Hank out of his mouth, Hank nearly collapses. But then he starts tugging on Hank's dick again, fast and hard, and breathes, "on my face, please."
It's over fast. Hank comes hard, really fucking hard, adrenaline and lust and affection bouncing around the walls of his body, screaming at him while he paints Connor's face.
Hank barely comes down before he reaches for Connor's hands, pulling him up to standing even as he's nearly falling apart himself. Connor is sticky and marked, and Hank tastes himself when Connor kisses him. He is about to lend a helping hand, but Connor is faster, and he grips himself, coming within seconds through a drawn out moan.
They pant together, the sounds of the forest echoing around them as they come down. Hank wraps his arms around Connor, kissing him on his head, before sagging down to the ground. Connor follows obediently, kissing his neck and cheek.
"Fucking wow," Hank laughs and coughs. "Been a while since I did it like this."
Connor laughs too, sitting up and creating enough space for himself to rummage in his pack for water and a rag.
"Sorry, I just couldn't really stop myself when you came up on the platform, all sweaty and strong and just–Mmm" he says, wiggling his shoulders as he lets out a pleased little hum.
"Hot," Hank grunts, chest aching at Connor's words. He watches him clean his face, then the front of Hank's pants, dazed.
Then he sees the state of said pants.
"Aw, fuck, Connor!" He complains, spreading the fabric to check the massive wet spot. "I can't be seen in public like this!"
To this, Connor blushes a lovely blue hue. "I got really carried away."
"No shit." Hank shouldn't be surprised, so he just laughs helplessly. "Yeah, you are so buying me a new set."
"I'll buy you ten more if I get to do that again," Connor counters and fuck, Hank should stop being surprised by that word, again.
"I'll hold you to it, you kinky robot," he says, and when they're both back on their feet, he leans over to give him a smack on his perfectly flat ass.
They've got ways to go, and ideally they should have been miles ahead by now, but Hank doesn't mind the delay one bit.