Work Text:
Mac comes into the room to find Henn sitting on the lower bunk, head bowed over the squat black form of a 55-200 lens. The bed is littered with three other lenses as well as an array of brushes, a bulb, and lint-free paper still in the package. Several of the small sheets of paper lie crumpled on the bed and the floor nearby. He’s wearing his camouflage pants and a white tee shirt, and is sitting with one bare foot tucked into the opposite knee, his leg extended out in front of him. The early morning sun comes in through the small, high window in the brick wall to pool in the center of the room.
“Is there any specific reason you had to use my bunk for this project?”
Henn doesn’t answer; his foot is twitching a rhythm and white wires run from the earbuds he has tucked into his ears. Mac moves to the edge of the bed, resting his forearm on the upper bunk and leaning down to get Henn’s attention, tugging the cord at one side of his head. He smiles innocently up at Mac.
“Get off my bunk.” The smile turns into a cheeky grin and Mac sighs, laughing to himself as he turns away.
Henn looks up at Mac through pale lashes, his eyes following him around the room as he moves to the wardrobe to collect a can of shaving cream and his razor before heading into the little alcove containing the sink. The white towel is all but defying gravity, wrapped tightly but dangerously low on Mac’s hips. Beads of water still shine on his shoulders and in his hair, collecting at the nape of his neck to run a trail down his back.
Henn holds the lens up to his eye, squeezing the other shut as he leans out from under the bunk bed, checking his work in the sunlight. He twists the lens a couple of times, watching it zoom in and out, then starts packing the tools back into a small plastic box near the foot of the bed, wrapping the brushes in a yellow microfiber cloth and folding the packaging carefully around the paper. The lenses slot into compartments in a black bag on the floor, with the larger center section reserved for the actual body of the D50.
“I still can’t believe Rami just gave you all that stuff.” Mac says as he leans out of the alcove, face half-covered in thick, white foam.
“Me neither. She said she doesn’t use it anymore, switched from Nikon to Canon. She seemed happy to see it going to a good home.”
“Did she tell you how to use any of it?” Mac’s voice echoes in the tiny alcove.
“No,” Henn says, shrugging as he gives the contents of the box a once-over, “but she said I can come by sometime next week and she’ll go through everything with me.”
“So you’re saying you don’t even know if you cleaned the lenses properly?” Mac moves back to the sink, leaning in closer to the mirror and jutting his chin out to get a better view of his neck.
Henn swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, tossing the mp3 player up onto his bunk and retrieving an old Polaroid camera that was half-hidden among the disarray of sheets and blanket. He hangs the Polaroid around his neck before gathering the strap of the camera bag in one hand and the plastic box in the other.
He crosses the room to the open door of the wardrobe and sets the box on the top shelf before lifting the camera bag up beside it. He turns, pushing the door shut and leaning against it, watching Mac shave.
“You smell good. Even from here.” Mac’s eyes meet Henn’s in the mirror and one side of Mac’s mouth twists in a half-smile. Henn’s gaze darkens and he lowers his eyes, pursing his lips as he adjusts the settings on the camera.
Mac picks up the can of shaving foam, turning it in his hand. “This is yours. No wonder you think I smell good,” he says. The flash bounces off the mirror and the photo slides out of the camera with a whirr and a click. Mac swears under his breath and blinks, rubbing at his eyes. “Now I can’t see to shave. Thank you for that.”
“Sit, then. I’ll do it.” Henn replies, nodding towards Mac’s now empty bunk as he fiddles with the camera again.
“I didn’t mean-“
“Sit.”
Mac watches him in the mirror, then turns off the faucet and walks towards the bed, face still half-covered in foam. He ducks low to sit on the edge of the bed, back hunched to accommodate his height.
Henn pushes off the wardrobe door and crosses the room. He takes another photo, then sets the camera on his bunk again and strips off his t-shirt, tossing it up there as well.
“Don’t want to get foam on it or anything,” he says off-handedly, leaning forward to push the camera towards the back of the bed. Mac’s hands come up to rest on the waist of Henn’s pants and he presses his nose to the suntanned skin above Henn’s belly button. Henn pushes at one of Mac’s knees with his own and Mac adjusts his legs so that Henn can stand between them.
Henn drops to his knees, letting his hands hang onto the bed frame on either side of Mac’s head. Mac trails his hands up Henn’s body as he sinks to the floor, mapping his sides and ribs before coming to rest just under his upper arms.
Henn moves forward, bringing his face close to Mac’s. For a long moment they hold eye contact, their lips almost touching as they breathe in each other, then Henn’s eyes flick down to Mac’s mouth. He pulls back slightly, rolling his head from side to side, taking in the raw, fresh pinkness of Mac’s neck and right cheek, already shaven. Mac smiles easily but shifts under the scrutiny.
“Razor?” Henn says, lifting his eyes back to Mac’s. He fumbles on the bed next to him before bringing a hand containing the razor alongside Henn’s head. Henn grins and takes it.
Mac closes his eyes and tries to keep his face calm. Henn holds his head still with one hand on the side of Mac’s neck as he works, shaving short, neat strokes along the left side of Mac’s face. Mac’s hands are folded in his lap until Henn uses a corner of the towel to wipe the razor. He rests them on the waist of Henn’s pants again, dragging his thumbs along Henn’s hips.
Every time Henn wipes the razor he pulls the towel open a little more. Mac’s skin, damp and cool after the shower, starts to flush again, his breath quickening slightly. Henn lays a hand gently on his forehead to steady him as he shaves under Mac’s nose. He pushes his fingers back into Mac’s hair afterwards, cradling the back of his head.
“Right, all done.” Henn drops the razor to the ground beside him and shuffles forward on his knees. Mac’s eyes open slowly, their brown-grey darkened by pupils blown wide.
Henn smiles, catching the tips of his tongue between his teeth before he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Mac’s cheek. He drags their cheeks against each other, then switches sides and repeats the process before ducking down to mouth along Mac’s jaw line. His other hand moves up Mac’s thigh, fingers pushing under the towel.
Mac leans back on his elbows on the bed. Henn unbuckles his belt and opens his fly, leaving his pants in a pool on the floor as he follows. He pushes the towel completely off Mac’s body and gazes down at Mac’s cock, flushed and hard enough to stand away from his belly. Henn drags his fingers along the length of it from base to tip, then and grinds down against him.
“I wasn’t done checking my work,” Henn says, returning his mouth to the side of Mac’s neck. Mac cups the back of his head, his other hand pushing at the waistband of Henn’s underwear. Mac arches his back and moans when Henn runs his tongue along the curve of his ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth. Henn rises up as much as possible off of him to push his briefs down his thighs. They struggle and the bed complains loudly beneath them but eventually they are both naked, stretched out beside each other on the narrow bunk. Mac slips a hand around Henn and pulls him closer to slot a leg between Henn’s thighs.
Mac has his head pillowed on his right arm but he lifts it to kiss Henn. Their mouths meet imprecisely; Mac twists his head and unfurls his arm so that it stretches under Henn’s head as well. They push against each other with harsh, hungry kisses as well as rolling hips. Henn wraps an arm around Mac’s shoulders and half-drags him across the bed.
“Ow! Shit,” Mac mutters. He pauses to shoot a dark look up at the underside of Henn’s bunk. He rubs at the back of his head where he bumped it, then continues to roll so that Henn is on his back with Mac on top of him, between his thighs. Mac rounds his back and bends down kiss Henn again even as he slips a hand between their bodies.
Henn groans into Mac’s mouth as he wraps his hand around both their cocks, now somewhat slick with sweat and secretion. Henn spreads his legs wider, one foot planted on the floor and the other flat on the bed as he rocks his hips to fuck Mac’s hand between them. He gropes awkwardly above his head, under Mac’s pillow, before retrieving a tube of lubricant. He hands it off to Mac, who moves back a little on the bed. He flips open the cap and squeezes some out onto his fingers, then clicks the tube closed again with one hand. He rolls his thumb along the pads of his fingers to spread the gel out. He grips Henn’s hip with his other hand and Henn scoots closer on the bed, lifting his hips more into Mac’s lap.
Mac spreads his thighs and works his hand down under Henn’s body, pressing his slick fingers to the cleft of his arse. Henn hisses appreciatively and pushes down into the contact. He arches his back as Mac twists his wrist, his other hand lazily stroking Henn’s cock.
“I’m ready. C’mon,” Henn whines, shifting his hips impatiently.
Mac helps guide Henn closer. The short bed and low bunk above them leave little room to maneuver, but Henn takes him in in one smooth, practiced motion. Mac’s head falls forward and he fits the fingers of his right hand above a wooden slat in Henn’s bunk. He grips the slat and pulls himself up slightly, making the muscles in his arm and shoulder stand out.
“Just fucking move. Fuck me.”
Mac complies, slowly rolling his hips and rocking his body using his suspended arm. Henn’s hands fist in the sheet before he swings his arms over his head, pressing his hands flat against the wall at the head of the bed. Mac strokes his other hand up and down the length of Henn’s cock.
“Christ you’re gorgeous, baby boy.”
Henn squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a breath through his teeth, arching his back up off the bed and trying to move in rhythm with Mac by lifting his hips. He’s only somewhat successful with one foot still on the floor, so he lifts his left leg off the floor and hooks it over Mac’s shoulder. Mac turns his head to mouth kisses on the inside of Henn’s knee and he wraps his arm around his thigh, leaving Henn’s cock standing away from his body.
“So fucking good,” Henn breathes, his head rolling from side to side. Mac growls against Henn’s leg, baring his teeth as he snaps his hips two, three times. The bed creaks in protest, the slat Mac is gripping bows where he has been using it as leverage. Mac’s fingers dig into the flesh of Henn’s left thigh so deeply that the skin around them is white, a sharp contrast to the uniform tan covering the rest of him.
Henn gropes blindly after the lube, coating his fingers and gripping his own cock tightly.
“I can-“ Mac starts.
“No,” Henn says, thrashing his head against the pillow. “Fuck. Don’t stop. Fucking perfect.”
Mac nods messily, and Henn pumps his cock into his fist in time with his thrusts, now faster but still aggressive.
Mac comes with a low moan, sinking his teeth into the flesh of Henn’s knee as his thrusts turn erratic, hips stuttering then stilling. Henn is not far behind, white fluid streaking his stomach as he continues to stroke his hand along the length of his cock. He gasps and his eyes fly open, huge and blue and looking directly into Mac’s.
They smile at each other as their breath evens out. Mac lowers Henn’s leg to the ground and hisses in pain as he pulls his hand out from between the slat and the mattress above. It’s white with an angry red stripe where the wood bit into it. He flexes his fingers experimentally and laughs a little.
Mac moves back, separating their bodies slowly before he lets Henn swing his other leg up onto the bed and turn onto his side. He lifts one hip and pulls his towel out from under his folded legs, wiping himself half-clean before giving it to Henn. He sits up on the bed and swings one arm up onto Henn’s bunk. He moves his hand back and forth, then lies down again, now holding the first photo Henn had taken.
Mac is shown reflected in the mirror, face still covered in shaving foam. His hair is glistening wet and the wing tattoos on his back almost seem to sparkle with the beads of water clinging to his skin. Henn is watching him in the mirror, holding the camera and leaning against the wardrobe.
Henn cranes his neck to get a better look at the photo. Mac rolls onto his back and Henn rests his head on his shoulder.
“I’m going to keep that one,” Henn says, turning to look at Mac.
“Why? I’m all foamy and my hair’s weird.”
“I like it. You’re all...” Henn gestures towards the photo, brow furrowed. “You’re how you are just with me. Here. Like now. I don’t have many photos like that.”
Mac looks at the photo again, a smile slowly forming on his face. He nods, mostly to himself, then turns and kisses Henn quickly on the lips before standing.
“Now I have to shower again. You coming this time?” He puts the photo back on Henn’s bunk and contemplates his ruined towel for a moment before moving to the wardrobe.
Henn nods when Mac looks back over his shoulder, so Mac pulls out two towels and tosses one across the room to him, wrapping his own around his waist before he unlocks the door.