Work Text:
"I'll be right over."
Hans stood slack-jawed as the call ended. When he called the maintenance line, he expected to hear the usual gruff voice of old Bernard. But whoever answered didn't sound like his swallowed a chainsaw. No, he sounded young, kind, handsome. His sweet voice echoed in Hans' ears.
Taking in his surroundings, Hans began hurriedly straightening up his apartment. Maybe it was a silly thing to think, but he wanted to make a good impression on the maintenance guy. He shoved dirty laundry in the closet, tossed empty glasses in the sink, fluffed the pillows. Before he knew it, he heard a knock at the door. It was a solid knock, not timid, but not impatient either. Hans strode definitely-very-calmly to the door and opened it.
Well, he was right. The new guy was handsome. He stood casually in the door frame, a large tool box hanging from his fingers. His jeans and T-shirt were covered in old stains, but free of holes and dirt. Wavy brown locks framed his face, like an old haircut long outgrown, and a beard decorated him, scruffy but not unkempt. Clear blue eyes watched Hans from behind a curtain of long lashes.
"Hi, I'm Hans!" he said, sticking out his hand.
Henry stared at it a second, the corner of his mouth twitching, then he shook it firmly. "Henry," he said. "Where's the leaky sink?"
"Oh, uh, it's in the bathroom," Hans said, gesturing behind him. Henry nodded and shouldered past him towards the bathroom.
Shit, he hates me.
Henry got to work right away, craning his neck under the faucet, crawling under the sink, unpacking his tool box. Hans leaned against the doorframe.
At least I can still enjoy the view.
It doesn't last long, though. Before he knew it, Henry was getting up from the floor, a few loose strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He wiped his hands on his jeans.
"All done," he puffed, bouncing on his toes. He looked so proud of himself, it was really adorable.
You're so handy, I'd love to repay you. Why don't you stay for a drink?
In the end, "Thanks," was all Hans said.
Henry nodded, picked up his toolbox, and left. Hans slumped against the wall.
"I'm in trouble."
"Hello, this is maintenance."
"Hi, Henry? This is Hans. Apartment 1403?"
"...I remember."
He remembers.
"Ah, well, I think there's something wrong with my dryer. Could you come take a look?"
There was a long pause.
"Be right there."
As soon as he said it, Henry hung up.
Hans looked between the full lint trap and his own bare chest. He hoped this wasn't too dumb an idea.
Soon, he heard Henry's knock at the door. Letting out a nervous breath, he flung it open. Henry looked just as he remembered him, the same sad eyes, the same beard and long hair. Hans itched to run his fingers through it, to feel if it was a s soft as it looked. Those droopy eyes ran over Hans' body, a crooked smile spreading across Henry's face.
"The dryer ate your shirt, eh?"
Hairs all over Hans stood on end, whether from the cold or being watched he wasn't sure.
Like what you see?
"Well, I don't have any clean shirts, you see. I was just emptying the dryer when I noticed the clothes are still a bit wet. So I couldn't put them on, of course."
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he echoed. "I'll take a look." Henry shouldered past Hans, not shying away from brushing against his chest. Hans felt his nipples stiffen at the touch.
Hans followed Henry to the dryer.
"Well, here's your problem," Henry said, his hands on his hips. "You gotta empty the lint trap." Henry pulled up a thick layer of lint. "See?"
The thing dangled like paper from his thick, veiny hands.
"Right, of course," Hans said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide his growing bulge.
"Well, if that's all--"
"No!" Hans blurted out. Henry froze, staring at him.
"Something else...?"
"Uh..."
Shit, Hans, think of something!
"I could make sure your faucet's still good to go?" Henry suggested.
"Yes, that was it! The water pressure's been really inconsistent."
Henry nodded, a small smile crossing his lips.
"Just let me know if I can give you a hand," Hans said, following Henry to the bathroom.
"Don't worry," Henry laughed. "If I know one thing, it's how to lay pipe." Heat rushed to Hans' face.
Christ, is he flirting or just stupid?
As Henry crawled under the sink, Hans got a great view of his ass. His jeans hugged it in all the right places, even more so than last time, and Hans even caught a brief glimpse of plumber's crack at the waistline. The way he was rocking back and forth, damn near wiggling his ass... If Hans didn't know better, he'd think Henry was doing it on purpose.
"You're...really good with your hands," Hans mumbled.
Henry crawled out from under the sink and stood to face Hans, sizing him up. "You think so?"
"Yeah, you..." Hans trailed off as Henry stepped closer, his hands grabbing his hips, his breath hot on his face.
"You know, you're cute when you're shy," the words slurred from Henry's mouth.
Oh.
Hans' ears grew hot. "I- I just didn't want to come on too strong."
Henry threw his head back in a laugh. "You answered the door shirtless!" As Henry began to kneel, his hands--those maddening hands-- trailed along the waistband of Hans' khakis, his fingers creeping ever closer to Hans' cock.
"Well, subtlety may not be my strong suit," Hans huffed.
"Not at all," Henry said, pulling Hans' cock into the open air. His calloused fingers encircled it, dragging deliciously along the shaft. The sight of those big eyes looking up at him and those large hands gripping his cock was enough to make Hans weak at the knees, sending him leaning back against the doorframe for support.
"Fuck," Hans whispered as Henry took him into his mouth.
Henry showed no mercy, immediately taking him so far his nose pressed against Hans' skin. His throat squeezed around Hans, coaxing heat to the end. Hans reached for his head, tangling his fingers in his long hair. It was even softer than it looked.
"You're not bad," Hans panted. Henry pulled off and smiled wide, resting Hans' tip against his teeth.
"I told you," he said. "I know my way around a drain snake."
"That's right, your whole job is making pipes flow," Hans laughed. Grabbing a fistful of hair, Hans guided Henry back down onto his cock, sighing happily as Henry hummed in agreement around it.
Hans' hand on Henry's head was more symbolic than anything. It was Henry's tongue that wrapped around Hans' cock, Henry's warm hand that cupped his balls, Henry's fingers that pressed into his hip. When Hans closed his eyes, all he felt was Henry holding him, leading him. Henry licking him, stroking him, taking him deeper and faster and harder—
Hans felt a familiar tightening in his gut. "Henry, I—" he forced out, trying to warn him.
Henry pulled off and looked up at him, his hands still pumping him. "Go on then," he said easily.
Hans shuddered, coming hard across Henry's face. Some part of him thought he should apologize, seeing it settle into Henry's lovely hair, painting his cheeks, but a greater part of him relished the sight. Henry didn't seem to mind either, happily licking stray droplets off his lips.
When Hans finished, Henry kissed his softening cock and stood, reaching in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a worn rag, passed it over his face a few times, and offered it to Hans. Hans shook his head, making for the sink instead. Henry shrugged and tucked the rag back into his pocket.
"If you have any more problems," he said with a wink, "just give me a call."