Taming the Beast

(( Chapter Tags for: mentions of past abuse, male solo masturbation ))

It was the laughter that caught his attention. It wasn't the lighthearted giggling of youth, nor even the charmed chuckle of one of the faculty. No, it was a different kind of laughter, unrestrained and wild. His ear flicked in the general direction of the sound. Hank knew Rogue's powerful guffaw anywhere, he didn't even need his heightened sense of hearing for it. It brought a smile to his lips.

It was the other voice, a softer voice, that caught his attention. It was a laugh tinged with faintness of heart. It was the laughter of the abused and the downtrodden. Yet, beneath that tremulous misery, there was a lightness to it, that tremble of hope that made him want to draw it out.

He followed the sound to the closed doors of the faculty common room. A movie played, something with cartoon voices and a lighthearted soundtrack. Another round of laughter rose up and he ignored a desire to go join them. The door was closed, and it was clear that Rogue was sharing a private moment with a friend in need.

He was just turning to be on his way when the door crashed open. Rogue filled a good portion of the doorway, wearing fuzzy pajamas in a surprising shade of orange. Her cheeks where rosy with good spirits. The scent of pizza and popcorn filled the hallway.

“Well, hey there, Blue! Wha'cha doin' sneakin' around here?”

“Ah. Forgive me.” Hank bowed his head. “I did not intend to interrupt. I heard some...uhhh...merriment.”

“Ah, yeah, me and my buddy Mercy were watching a movie, Girls night in.” Rogue motioned to a woman curled up on the couch.

Hank's first glimpse was of a pair of bunny slippers. Then his eyes slid upwards to find a pair of thick legs clad in the most what he could only guess were well worn leggings with some sort of map printed on them. Her t-shirt was a faded shade of blue with a T shirt that read “Memes are the the modern language of future historians.”

She was, he thought, beautiful. It wasn't just her hair in a shade between blonde and brown that was thrust into a careless ponytail, nor the blue-gray of her eyes. It was something about the way she bounced one foot, making the bunny ears on her slipper dance, or the way her gaze was curious, and wary, and intelligent. Or maybe even the way one hand cupped a half drunk glass of wine.

He should look away. Hank knew he was staring, but he couldn't seem to stop.

“Hey! Blue?” Rogue stepped into his field of vision and he found he could blink again. “You alright, Darlin'?”

“Yes, uhm, yes, I'm fine. If you'll excuse me I...yes.”

“A-alright.”

He knew that he had been rude. He should have introduced himself but somehow this thought hadn't occurred to him until he was already halfway to his own room. He shook his head once more and felt the haze of his thought clear up. Mercy, that's what Rogue had called her, her buddy Mercy. He wondered if that was a given name or a codename or some mix of the two.

“Mercy,” he whispered beneath his breath, and found his lips curling into a smile.

~

“Who was that?” Mercy asked flopping over the armrest. “Did you call him 'Blue'?”

“Hmm? Oh, that big softie? That's Beast...or Hank...or Mr. McCoy if yer really polite. He teaches science here. He's a big ol' smarty pants and we love him cause of it.” Rogue stretched out on the floor, her long legs taking up a good portion of the carpet. She grabbed another slice of pizza and took a healthy bite. “He looked like he wanted to take the smarty-pants right off'a you.”

Mercy blushed. She had noticed something similar, though she wouldn't have said it that way. She thrust one foot into the air and gave it a wiggle. “Well I am wearing my favorite slippers. Who could resist?”

Rogue gave a snort. “I can tell him to leave you be, if you want. He'd listen.”

Mercy laughed and shook her head, “No....no.”

“Ohhh, already thinking about Big Blue, huh?”

“Oh ick.” Mercy rolled her eyes. She picked up a handful of popcorn and tossed it at the other woman. “Big Blue, really?”

“Well, what would you call it then?”

Mercy stuck out her tongue. “None of my business.”

Rogue giggled and poured some more wine. The movie continued playing in the background but neither of them was paying attention to it. She took a long sip and said, “He'd be good to you. Least I think he would. Blue's a good fella.”

“I don't think any fella is a good idea for me, good or not.”

“Well, that's all up to you, Hun. I'll support you either way.”

Mercy reached out and took Rogue's hand. She didn't hold on very long, just a moment of comfort. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Mercy plopped the popcorn bowl into her lap and searched for the yellowest pieces. “What about you? Is there anyone in your life?”

“Oh, not yet.” Rogue smirked and her eyes took on a particular sparkle. “Soon though.”

“You wanna tell me about it?”

“Not yet.” Rogue rolled over unto her belly. “But when it happens, we'll eat more junk food and giggle about it.”

“I knew being an adult was going to be great.”

~

In his mind she was laying back, just as she had been, but her shirt was drawn up to show her breasts. She still held the glass in one hand, half filled with a dark wine. Her eyes were sparkling as her lips parted to form a lewd proposition. The image was so vivid in his mind and no matter what he tried to distract himself with it wouldn't go away.

“Damn,” he grunted to the darkness. His hand slid down beneath the sheets. He ache and there was only one way to deal with it. A bead of wetness had formed at the tip, staining the sheets and his belly. He ran his thumb over the end and felt a wave of muted pleasure run through him.

He wanted to nuzzle against her breasts, slip his hands along the shape of her hips and pull her beneath him, or over him. Anything...anything that would make those soft lips smile. He tightened his grip and worked himself beneath the sheets.

In his mind she was telling him to spill for her, her mouth wrapped around the rim of her wine glass. Her thick legs parting for him. He grunted and his hand moved faster, the pressure built in that spot between the tip and the root of him. His legs went tight and he imagined her spilling her drink across her breasts, the bright of the wine against her skin, how it would taste to lick her clean.

He shoved the sheets off of his body.

“Mercy,” he groaned as his seed spilled over his belly.