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Of course. Of course they have to hide in a bloody storeroom that’s so small they have to stand pressed against each other and so low-ceilinged, Hunter has to duck. He can hear Fitz’s frantic breaths in the dark and feel the warmth he’s radiating. And, of course, he feels Fitz’s bum rubbing right against his own crotch.
Hunter tries to subtly change his posture, but there’s no space. He’s trapped. Literally.
He should be worried about the assassins outside. Their goal is to kill Shield agents. Yeah. He really should worry about them. Not about the fact that his useless traitorous cock is already half-hard, where it’s pressed against Fitz’s ridiculously attractive arse.
Bloody, bloody hell.
This is not how he wanted this to happen. This is definitely not, how he wanted Fitz to find out.
Hunter has had a crush on Fitz for ages. The problem is, he doesn’t know how to address it. He doesn’t even know if Fitz is interested. There are … hints. At least, Hunter sometimes thinks they are hints, but he isn’t sure of that either. There are glances, smiles, even accidental touches. Enough reasons to ask, to talk. But … He’s just not sure and he doesn’t like to not be sure.
So he has been waiting. Waiting for an opportunity that never seemed to come. And now he’s here, hiding in a tiny storeroom that smells of mothballs, vinegar and damp wood, trying not to get a boner while his best friend is pressed against him. His best friend who he had a lot of fantasies about. Dreams, even. He dreamed about taking Fitz to bed and making love to him, in every little detail.
Hunter grips the gun in his hand harder and tries to think about something that doesn’t involve Fitz or his attractive bum, or his beautiful blue eyes or the way they light up when he has one of his smart ideas or … Bloody hell.
There’s a loud noise and yelling outside. Fitz flinches back and presses himself closer to Hunter. Even closer. Hunter swallows, as there’s more friction against his prick. His hips twitch involuntarily. No, he tells himself sternly. No. He is not going to rub himself against Fitz. Just … no. But now his cock is fully hard and straining against his jeans. It’s getting uncomfortable. Hunter wishes he could palm his cock, just to adjust it, to make this awful pressure disappear, but that would mean he has to move his hand between his crotch and Fitz’s bum and Fitz would totally know what he’s doing.
But now that he’s so hard it is almost painful, there’s also no way Fitz is not noticing Hunter’s erection, right? What is he going to think? What is he thinking right now? Is he thinking it has something to do with him? Or is he thinking it’s just, well, an accident. Things that happen. With anybody. Casual erection from accidental stimulation.
This is torture. Hunter feels so restless, he desperately wants to move, wants to yell, wants to shoot something. Sweat breaks out on his forehead and he knows it isn’t coming from the heady, sticky air in the storeroom, that reminds him of a sauna. God. Sauna with Fitz. No . Not the ideal picture. At least not now … God. Get a grip, Lance.
“I think they are gone,” Fitz suddenly whispers. He peeks out a crack in the door.
“Uh,” Hunter makes. He is at a loss for proper words.
Fitz turns his head to glance at Hunter, then focuses on the door again. Hunter is not sure, not 100%, but he thinks he saw a slight smirk on Fitz’s face. But well, the light here is dim and his eyes haven’t adjusted to it yet. Not fully. His eyes surely tried to play him a trick.
“Yeah. I think we can risk taking a look outside,” Fitz says. There is a pause. “Unless,” Fitz eventually whispers, sounding breathless, “Unless you want help with that ?”
Hunter’s breath hitches and his jaw drops. “What?” He croaks.
Fitz glances at him again, and this time, he’s definitely smirking. He nods down. At Hunter’s crotch. “Do you need help with that.” And then he licks over his lower lip. Slowly. Totally intentional.
Hunter wants to pinch himself. Maybe this is just one of his dreams. He’s going to wake up from it with a boner. He’s going to take care of it, and then start into another day of hopeless pining.
“Hunter?” Fitz asks, sounding less sure and a bit worried now.
Hunter realizes he has been frozen and silent for too long. “Uh,” he makes, scratching the back of his head. “Uh …” His mind says no - not before they talked, because what he wants isn’t just casual sex in a storeroom. He doesn’t want something like being friends with benefits. What he wants, is making Fitz happy, making him feel loved and appreciated. He wants to worship and be worshipped. Give and take. However, his cock says, yes please . Of course.
Fitz looks at him patiently, but there’s something in his eyes, something uncertain. It’s so Fitz, and God, Hunter wants to kiss him. But he restrains himself. “No. Not now. Not here. Uhm. But … Can we talk about this - Later?”
“Sure,” Fitz says. He smiles. Hunter thinks that’s a good sign. He clears his throat. “So, are we going to leave? I can’t breathe.”
“Yeah.” Fitz moves away from him, and for a long moment, Hunter misses his warmth. Fitz looks out carefully, nodding after a second. “All clear.” He moves out, and Hunter follows, subtly palming his cock, adjusting it.
Maybe, he thinks while following Fitz out, maybe this whole horrible ridiculous situation was actually heaven sent. Who knows. At least it’s going to make them talk. And it showed him that Fitz might not be as uninterested as Hunter thought.
Still. It was not how he wanted this to happen. But well. Accidents happen. They happen all the time.