Friday Night

Friday night at mutant high. Much less eventful than one might think. Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters wasn’t exactly the epicenter of popular social activity, nos its it particularly close to any large metropolis. Even if it were, the students were forbidden to leave campus except for specially sanctioned events. While it seemed autocratic, most of the student body understood the need for the rule. The world outside their school/home was cruel and dangerous, and pe of of their kind were most definitely not welcome. They preferred the safety and friendship of their fellow mutants. Boring as it may seem, most of the students kept themselves amused easily. The consumption of alcohol (usually stolen from Logan, at great risk of bodily harm) and various games related to it was a frequent past time. The staff also did their best to facilitate slightly more legal avenues of entertainment for the teens, dance parties and the like. Most of the students were content with this lot. Most.
One who was most certainly not content was St. John Allerdyce. Far from the paramount of academic achievement, St. John was one of those who found himself bored with the rather constrained life at Xavier’s School. The rules are there for a reason, everyone told him. The rules are there for your safety. St. John had never given a fuck about the rules. This had led him into numerous run-ins with the staff, who regarded him as quite the handful. Everything about “the rules” was frustrating to St. John. He loved his power, the ability to control fire. Beautifueadleadly, erotic fire, and it was his to command. Fire could give life and just as easily take it away, and by controlling it, St. John had that power as well. Power. It was such a rush, especially for a 17 year old boy. The teachers also preached control and moderation. St. John wanted the opposite. The lack of control was invigorating to him; the feeling of lettio. So. Seeing how large and beautiful he could make his fire, what shapes he could form, how long it could burn. St. John hated having to spend every Friday night the same.
He sat in his room, every available surface on his side covered with candles in varying stages of melting. St. John flicked his lighter on, and with a sweeping gesture of his hand a river of flame circled the room and set them alight. More scorch marks on the desk and dresser. St. John gazed at the flames; not controlling them, merely watching them. So beautiful.
The door to the room flew open and his room mate entered unceremoniously, breaking St. John out his meditation. He shot the other boy an irritated look.
“Whatcha doin’ tonight, Johnny?” Bobby inquired, glancing around the candlelit room. Bobby had long since learned not to turn on the lights when St. John had his candles lit.
“Meh. Hell if I know. Nothing interesting ever goes on around here anyways. Not like I’m missing anything. Where’ve you been?” St. John answered, looking at Bobby appreciatively. He was slightly sweaty, in a tight grey t-shirt and baggy shorts. Not bad. Not bad at all.
“Just outside playing basketball. It started to get dark so we came in,” Bobby said, highly doubting that St. John was really listening. He was staring into his candles again, utterly mesmerized by the flames. For someone as short-tempered and as impatient as St. John, it never ceased to amaze Bobby how long he could sit there doing nothing but staring at fire. Bobby didn’t get the appeal. He didn’t mind the view, however. St. John looked, well, really fucking hot by candlelight. The way the fire reflected in his eyes and played off his face, emphasizing his features and the slight wetness of his lips. Yeah, that’s hot, thought Bobby.
St. John caught Bobby looking and raised an eyebrow. “Something you wanted to say, Drake?”
Slightly embarrassed, Bobby replied, “Uhh, nah, just gonna take a shower.”
St. John smiled then, and it was the singlst lst lecherous thing Bobby had ever seen. He squirmed slightly just from the look of it.
“Hurry the fuck up, then. I’ve got an idea for some plans tonight. You’re invited, so dress nice. I need to get ready too though, so don’t hog the bathroom for forever and six days,” St. John practically commanded.
Bobby darted into the bathroom to get cleaned up, and St. John sauntered over to his closet and reached all the way to the back. Ah, yes. That outfit. It hadn’t been worn yet, since St. John had just bought on his last sanctioned visit to town. He hadn’t had an occasion to. Oh, but this was perfect.
A little while later, Bobby emerged from the bathroom, hair neatly spiked, wearing a light blue silk shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, black slacks and a silver studded belt, and looking fine if St. John had anything to say about it.
“You ready?” St. John asked suggestively, drawing Bobby’s attention to him, and ho-ly shit. Where and when had St. John gotten that outfit? Skin tight black shirt made out of fine mesh, short enough to ride up a bit when hved ved but with sleeves long enough to partially cover his hands. His pants were also black, tight as second skin across the ass and flaring out toward the bottom, sitting dangerously low on his hips. They were coated with extraneous zippers and straps, catching the light. And the final detail that really sent Bobby’s mind astray was the collar around St. John’s neck. Black leather with a silver hoop on the front. Ho-ly shit.
“Like the outfit? I liberated it last time we were in town,” St. John asked with a smirk.
“Yeah.. it, uh, looks good on you,” Bobby answered, trying to say something other than how much he wanted St. John out of that outfit. Except for the collar. Yeah, that could definitely stay. “So, where we goin’, Johnny? I mean, it’s not like we can go anywhere, you know.”
“Says you,” St. John replied, leading him down to the garage.
Mr. Summers’ brand new red Suzuki Ninja racing bike stood before them, gleaming and enticing.
“Fuck yeah,” St. John said softly, walking over to it almost reverently.
“Johnny, no fucking way are you going to get away with that,” Bobby cautioned.
“Oh, shut up. Mr. Summers’ll never know if we have it back before morning. He and all the rest of the staff are busy running some retarded activity for the little kids tonight,” St. John retorted, rummaging around for the keys. It never ceased to amuse/amaze him how the staff could be so careless and almost blindingly trusting of the students. It seemed they assumed that because they were all mutants they would all automatically be best friends. What the fuck ever, St. John thought, coming up with keys in hand. He straddled the bike, started the engine and revved it a bit, getting a feel for it.
“You gettin’ on, Bobby?”
Seeing St. John straddling the bike in that outfit, hips moving slightly to get comfortable, had Bobby thinking more about getting off than getting on.
“Fine. But if we get caught, I refuse to take any blame for this,” he grumbled, acting far less enthusiastic than he felt. Bobby climbed on the back of the bike, keenly aware of his body’s reaction to such close proximity to St. John. He cautiously rested his hands on the other boy’s hips, not wanting to make himself too obvious.
St. John revved the engine again. “I drive more than five miles an hour, so you might actually want to get some sort of grip that will keep you on the bike. The point is not for you to fall off half way there,” St. John said, shifting back so he was even closer to Bobby, until he could feel Bobby’s frozen breath on his neck making him shiver. Bobby wrapped his arms tightly around St. John’s waist and they peeled out of the garage, tires screeching.
Somehow it didn’t surprise Bobby in the least that St. John drove like a complete fucking psycho; speeding, taking turns far too fast, cutting people off and weaving through traffic. The fear of imminent death was almost enough to kill the erection that was starting to form from a combination of the physical contact with St. John and the vibration of the bike between his legs. At the same time, concentrating on just holding onto St. John as opposed to groping him kept Bobby distracted from the fear of death.
When they finally stopped, Bobby was relieved that they were no longer baiting death on the motorcycle, but was a bit apprehensive about their apparent destination.
“Where the hell are we, Johnny?” he asked.
“Just a place I noticed last time we were in town. I looked it up on the internet and it looked kinda cool,” St. John replied nonchalantly. The location was a club of sorts, a small door leading into a large brick building. Throbbing techno music oozed out the door.

Ladies (move)
Gentlemen (move)
Somebody ring the alarm
A fire on the roof
Ring the alarm

“Shall we?” St. John invited, extending his hand to Bobby. Swallowing slightly, Bobby took his hand. St. John’s penchant for illegality proved useful; he had a fake ID that bumped his age from 17 to 21. Bobby nervously flashed his ID as quickly as possible, thumb strategically covering his birth date.
The interior of the club was writhing; a mass of people on the dance floor pulsed in time to the music, loud enough that it could be felt all the way into you skeleton. Black and red leather couches were tucked into smaller rooms and a long bar took up one wall. St. John made a beeline for the bar, Bobby trailing uneasily.
“Jesus, Bobby, loosen up a bit. We finally got out of that fucking place, let’s have ourselves a good time,” St. John urged. Without waiting for Bobby’s approval he ordered drinks for them both. St. John tossed his back the moment it was set before him and ordered another. Bobby drank his more slowly, feeling the alcohol burn its way down his throat. No sooner had he finished that one than St. John shoved another one at him. Having discovered that it wasn’t completely awful, Bobby drank this one more confidently. Waiting with uncharacteristic patience for him to finish, St. John rose and gestured for Bobby to follow.
“Dancing? Johnny, I can’t dance,” Bobby tried to say, but his words were completely swallowed by the music. He leaned in so close to St. John’s ear and screamed out what he said earlier. St. John gasped as Bobby’s cool lips brushed over his ear.
“Don’t be such a pussy. Yes you can. And it’s not like anyone’s watching you. Now come on,” St. John yelled in Bobby’s ear, practically dragging him forward.

Tight hip huggers (low for sure)
Shake a little somethin’ (on the floor)
I need that-uh!-to get me off
Sweat until my clothes come off

St. John started moving as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Bobby awkwardly followed suit. He kept getting distracted as he watched St. John extend his arms over his head, causing his tight shirt to ride up, showing off the lines of his hips. His hips… the way the moved was absolutely hypnotic. His hands traced down his chest as he rolled his body and shot Bobby a look.
“Are you seriously just going to stand there?!” St. John shouted, “Why the hell did you come along if you’re not going to do anything?” St. John was well inside Bobby’s personal space bubble so as to speak to him. He hadn’t meant to just freeze where he stood; but seriously, the thought of St. John’s hips moving like that against his, hands sliding into that mesh shirt and over the tight ass of those pants… Bobby tentatively placed a hand on St. John’s shoulder before sliding it down his arm.
Ohh yes. This was exactly what St. John had wanted to happen. He moved closer to Bobby and slid his arms around his neck. Bobby was surprised for a moment, but didn’t think of objecting as St. John started to move again.

Rowdy
Gonna get a little unruly
Get it fired up in a hurry
Wanna get dirty
It’s about time that I came to start the party
Ohh, sweat dripping over my body
Dance and getting just a little naughty

Bobby wrapped his arms around St. John’s waist and started to follow the movement of his hips. St. John pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together. Shit, Bobby had no idea a single person could radiate so much body heat and not be dead from fever. St. John began that same rhythm with his hips again and suddenly that was the only thing that mattered. Bobby ground against St. John, loving the feel of his warm hands moving over his face and shoulders and upper back in hard caresses. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to hide his erection in this situation, but it didn’t really matter because he could feel St. John’s digging into his hip as they moved together.
“Don’t be afraid, Bobby,” St. John yelled, moving his lips fully over Bobby’s ear. That was all Bobby needed. Bobby’s hands left St. John’s hips and slid up over his chest, feeling the lightly toned muscle under his fingers. This was going so nicely, St. John thought. Bobby was touching him with those ice cold hands of his, grinding his very obvious erection against his hip…. Time to see how far he could take this.

Ah, heat is up
So ladies, fellas
Drop your cups
Body’s hot
Front to back
Now move your ass
I like that

St. John shifted until one of Bobby’s thighs was between his legs. He placed a hand on Bobby’s chest and slid his body down, arching his back so far that his hair dusted the floor. Bobby had no idea St. John was that flexible, but there’s no in hell he was about to question since he was currently being treated to the sexiest image he had ever seen. St. John pulled himself back upright in a smooth fluid motion and twisted in Bobby’s arms until he was facing away from him.
Bobby was grateful that the music was so loud; he moaned as St. John ground his ass over his crotch. Bobby’s hands were wandering almost involuntarily now, down St. John’s chest and onto the hard lines of his hips, fingers coming dangerously close to his erection. That was too much for St. John, who placed his hands over Bobby’s and slid one of them down between his legs. Bobby squirmed as he felt St. John’s hard-on under his hand, and closed his fingers around it as best he could. A shudder traveled through St. John’s body and he leaned his head back on Bobby’s shoulder. His arm snaked up around Bobby’s necked and their eyes locked.
Bobby could hardly believe he was standing in such a public place with St. John’s lithe body pressed so close to his, and one of his hands stroking St. John’s cock through his pants. No one else seemed to care, or even notice. They were far from the only people engaged in such activities. Bobby slid his other hand back up over St. John’s body until his fingers toyed with the silver loop on the collar. St. John’s face was dangerously close to his, and Bobby could see the thin layer of sweat on his forehead, how dilated his warm brown eyes were. St. John’s lips moved as if he were saying something, and when Bobby moved his head closer, he suddenly felt those lips all over his, invitingly warm and surprisingly soft. Bobby grabbed St. John’s hips and turned him back around before kissing him again. St. John writhed in Bobby’s embrace, running his hands through spiky blond hair. Bobby’s lips were so cold, and the sensation created by the temperature difference between them was mind-blowing. Tongue slithering out, St. John tasted Bobby’s mouth. Responding in kind, Bobby moved his hands from St. John’s hips to his firm ass, and pressed their bodies more fully together. Bobby felt St. John moan into his mouth as the kiss became more intense, teeth scraping over tongue and lips. The rhythm of the music was suddenly forgotten as Bobby and St. John found a rhythm of their own, grinding against each other and kissing almost violently. Peeling one of his hands off St. John’s ass, Bobby once again grasped the loop of the collar.
“Did I tell you how much I like this on you?” Bobby inquired, a never-before-heard note of lust in his voice.
“No, but I kind of… got the… idea,” St. John replied between kisses. The friction between their bodies was so fucking good. St. John had had sex before, and he could honestly say that this was right up there with it. The way Bobby moved against him was delicious, and those icy hands on his ass pressing their hips harder together... all of that coupled with the feel of Bobby’s mouth on his had St. John on the verge of making a mess in his pants. He reached for the fly of Bobby’s pants. Bobby faltered a bit in the kiss, realizing that St. John was about to unzip his pants in public. Then he felt St. John’s hand inside his pants, grasping his aching erection and he didn’t give a fuck that they were in public; he just wanted St. John to get him off. Bobby grunted in disappointment as he felt St. John’s hand leave his cock, but became even more enthusiastic when he realized that St. John was unzipping his own pants. Bobby’s mouth left St. John’s to tongue along his jawline and up to his ear.
“Johnny… this is…” he began, but never finished as he felt St. John’s bare erection slide against his.
“Isn’t this worth breaking a few rules for?” St. John answered, tracing Bobby’s ear with his tongue. Bobby just nodded and grabbed St. John’s face to trace the outline of his lips with his tongue. St. John’s lips were gorgeous; full, perfectly shaped, and utterly fuckable. In Bobby’s mind, pretty much everything about St. John was utterly fuckable, especially right now with their cocks sliding against each other, pushing them both higher.
St. John’s lips on Bobby’s ear again. Maybe he was going to say something coherent, but it never happened. Instead, a long moan washed over Bobby’s ear as St. John came, making a mess on Bobby’s blue silk shirt. Bobby followed suit moments later, St. John’s name on his lips.
Their movement gradually slowed and they simply stood still, arms wrapped around each other. The club continued to pulse on around them, but Bobby and St. John were oblivious, caught up in the smell and feel of each other. Even after their breathing returned to normal and their heart rates slowed down, they continued to stand holding each other.
“Johnny,” Bobby finally spoke, “We need to get back to school.”
Way to ruin the moment, ass, St. John thought. “Yeah, I guess we do,” he sighed, zipping up his pants. After Bobby had done the same, St. John took his hand and led him out of the mass of people.
In the parking lot, St. John wrapped his arms around Bobby and kissed him again. Bobby melted at the feel of it; it was so slow and soft, far more and he never would have guessed that feisty St. John was capable of such gentleness. A look crossed St. Johfaceface, as if we were about to say something, something powerful, but he never did. Instead, he straddled the bike once again and Bobby climbed on behind him. This time Bobby wasn’t shy about wrapping his arms around St. John’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his hair as they tore out of the parking lot.
Back at school, St. John laced his fingers through Bobby’s as they walked quietly back up to their room from the garage.
“Have a good time?” St. John asked, rather rhetorically.
“Fuck yeah. And it’s still pretty early, you know. We could stay up later,” Bobby said suggestively.
“I like the way you think, Drake,” St. John laughed. Yeah, that plan had definitely been brilliant, and he absently wondered how long it would take Mr. Summers to notice that his new bike had a few extra miles on it.