I, Mutant

I, Mutant Chapter Seventeen
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… The Purple Cow has arrived in Texas, lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: I so did not stand you up so ner. Morgan: Hola? Readers/Reviewers: Just a few more chapters then back to story-ness. J



“There’s nothing on,” the leggy blonde sighed, crossing and recrossing her legs. She shot her boyfriend a slanted look, a slight smile curving her lips. “We should entertain ourselves.” She reached out and tugged on her seatmate’s arm, pulling him closer. “Shouldn’t we?”
“I think that’s a wise idea,” he allowed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “We have,” he paused to kiss her, tasting the sticky sweet flavor of her lip gloss, not caring as he pressed another kiss to her mouth, “an hour or two until my parents are home.”
“Then we’d better make good use of it,” she giggled, a most unladylike sound. She slipped her arms around his neck, laying back against the arm of the couch as he pressed against her, his lips moving over her own, then down her throat as his fingers found the buttons on her blouse. She closed her eyes as he unfastened her shirt, baring her flesh to the cool air of the room. It was always so cold in his family’s drafty old house, she thought distantly. Her own family home was much older and larger but they never had a problem keeping it warm. “Jono,” she began, but found herself cut off by another kiss, this one more insistent than the first few. He pressed more fully against her, slipping his hand under her knee and parting her legs so that she cradled him in the apex of her thighs.
“This okay?” he breathed, lowering his lips to the peak of her breast. She made some noise he took for assent and did not push him away as he closed his lips over her turgid nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking out to tease her to full hardness. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she sighed, her heart beating faster. He could feel her pulse thrumming through her veins and he felt as if he were on fire, energy and life beating inside him so forcefully that it was almost painful. Clothes rustled and fell aside, secondary distractions only to the feeling welling inside him. For a moment, he was fairly certain that he was going to faint but a deep, slow breath steadied him. “Sorry,” he muttered in response to her concerned noise. “Nothing…” She tasted salty and sweet at once, her sudden gasp at his attentions gratified him. He pressed his tongue against the pearl of her sex, making her grip on him tighten and her back arch.
She was breathing hard, her heels digging into the couch cushions and his back as she squirmed under his ministrations. She breathed his name like a litany, her climax fast approaching as his tongue and lips teased her core to a point near pain before he slipped first one, then two fingers into her waiting femininity. She arched, her back bowing as the first wave of her release overtook her, and she keened a cry of pure pleasure.
“Jono!”
Gayle’s cry of pleasure became a scream of horror as her boyfriend pulled away, nearly falling off the couch in his haste to rise. “Mother,” he said as calmly as possible. “How was the trip?”

It was dark and cold, he noted with some detachment. Or at least it seemed to be. He wondered why he wasn’t any warmer, what with the blankets pulled up like they were. He felt…nothing, really. He and Gayle had a long talk; she was still embarrassed over being caught by his parents and he had been trying to convince her it was not so bad, that they would not say anything to her parents or even to him after that. He flexed his fingers, then his toes, wondering when the blanket got so stiff and uncomfortable. With a long suffering stretch of all of his limbs, he shoved the blanket aside and sat up, his eyes adjusting to the dark. This, he thought dimly, was not right. It wasn’t his room. It looked like a hospital room but less charming, he decided. Too much metal, too little fabric and light. Gayle had been upset, he recalled, standing for a moment in the strange room, what little light seeped under the door making everything glow with an odd sheen. They had fought, they had made up. He remembered, almost like it was a dream from a long time ago, that she had been sitting on the couch, the very one they had been caught on, and he had laid his head in her lap. Then… nothing. This, he thought. Then this. What happened? What made him wake up here? Tentatively, he took first one step, then another. The floor should be cold but it was not. There was a row of metal beds in the room, all of them the same as the one he just left. On a far one, someone else lay covered to their chest in a white sheet. Their face was still, unmoving in sleep. Jono paused, trying to swallow. Something was wrong. Horribly, terribly, sickeningly wrong. The beds were tables, a voice screamed in the back of his mind. The tables had sinks at one end, they had drains and a crank to slant one side or the other. The wall was lined with drawers, wide and deep. Why aren’t I panicking, he wondered. Why isn’t my heart racing, why am I not hyperventilating? I want to, he thought. I need to… He took another handful of steps, bringing him closer to the white sink set by the wide metal door. He saw his dark shape moving in the mirror, glow making it hard to see clearly. The light was growing brighter, almost painful to look upon, and Jono took a final step, closing the distance between him and the mirror, his fingers coming up to touch his face.