I Remember

The scars. I know they’ll be with me for the rest of my life. But that’s only fitting, because he will be, too. Even if he’s not here, he’ll always be a part of me. These marks on my wrists remind me of that every day. How did I get them? Well, that should be obvious, considering they’re burn scars. And the fire that gave them to me… God, it hurt. But it felt so good. I remember when I first came back to Xavier’s school. The others had all rushed around me, concerned. They bandaged the burns. They asked what happened. Even Xavier asked what happened. Like he didn’t already fucking know. He can read minds for Christ’s sake. It’s like he wanted me to say it in front of everyone. All I said was that I had a run-in with Johnny. Pyro, I guess. That’s what they all call him now, like they’re trying to forget about him, dehumanize him. I didn’t see how they could forget him that easily, just shrug him off like that. Did they really feel that way about him? No wonder he left. I remember there was a time I thought I could do that same. Just shrug Johnny off. Just let him become Pyro. The enemy. I remember Xavier had sent me on an errand for X-Men. I felt important, mature. Superior. It was a stupid errand, too. I was supposed to meet up with Kurt, who had stolen some valuable data from Magneto. I was then to take it back to Xavier. Kurt never showed up. Johnny did. He was standing there in the middle of the open field, playing with fire. The grass all around him charcharred black. He looked at me like he’d been expecting me. He had. I remember him so vividly. Wind playing through his chin-length brown hair, which wasn’t slicked back like he used to wear. Black leather jack it. Black button up shirt with the top few buttons open. I could see a sliver of his chest. Black slacks that were tight in all the right places. I hated where my train of thought was going. I had told myself I wasn’t going to think about Johnny like that anymore. That I wasn’t going to feel those things for Johnny anymore.
Johnny was angry, then. Asked me what the fuck I thought I was doing. Told me the X-Men weren’t the shit they thought they were and that Kurt had never gotten the data he was after. I asked where Kurt was. Johnny shrugged and said he didn’t give a fuck. I remember that I started to get angry at point. How could he care so little about the people he used to live with? At that point the thought crossed my mind that it was just as well he left. I was still lying to myself. We fought then, John and I. We threw fire and ice at each other. It was futile. It almost seems like fate that our powers are such that we could never really harm each other while fighting with them. John would send out a wave of fire; I would freeze it solid in its tracks. I would throw balls of ice; John would melt them to harmless splashes. John realized this before I did and decided to throw powers and shit out the window. He charged at me and tackled me. He pinned me down. Roughly.
“Johnny…” I had gasped. He was holding my hands over my head. He was straddling me, hips pressed against mine. At that time I tried to chalk it up to the fact that I was a 17 year old boy who could never get any from his girlfriend. But now I know I was lying to myself then. I reacted the way I did because I still wanted him so much. I squirmed under him, pressing my hips to his. I still want him so much. The memories of when he was here… his mouth, his tongue, kissing, the sound of his voice as he moaned into my ear, whispering things that made me blush. How warm he got, his eyes… Heh, even how I’m sitting here trying to convince myself that the attraction is (was, dammit, was) solely physical and had nothing to do with the way John would smile at me, the way he let me sleep in his bed and held me when I had nightmares, the way he laughed and made me laugh.
Shit, I can’t even keep a train of thought going in one direction. Anyways, John had me pinned down. And the long and short of it is that I liked it. I wanted to kiss him so much. John let go with one of his hands, holding on with the other two. I suppose I could have thrown him off then, but I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted him on top of me like that. I still do. John leaned down then and brushed his lips over my ear. He whispered to me, “Shh, Bobby. Just rest. I need to come with me.” Then I saw him rooting around in the pocket of his jacket and I felt a prick in my arm and then I guess I blacked out, because there’s a huge gap in my memory.
I remember feeling very groggy when I woke up. I was in a room the size of me and John’s room (my room, dammit! Just mine now…). I had been rather shocked to find myself tied to a chair, my arms around the back of the chair, tied together. John was talking to Magneto of all people. I was so angry at John. He fucking drugged me and brought me here to his little Brotherhood lair or whatever. I couldn’t hear what Magneto and John were saying, but I didn’t like the look on Magneto’s face. I was afraid, but looking back on it I had no reason to be. Magneto left after awhile, closing the door of the room behind him. John didn’t leave.
John wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. Just that partially buttoned shirt that showed off his chest and those black pants that looked really fucking good on him. I had tried so hard to fight down my arousal. He fucking drugged me and captured for Christ’s sake. That’s not the type of situation where one usually thinks about how good it would feel to have your captor’s lips wrapped around your cock. It had been so long… just the sight of John standing there looking sexy and inviting was enough to get me sprung. I tried very had to focus on Rogue. My girlfriend. Girlfriend. Who I could never touch, who could never hold me and comfort me the way Johnny could.
“Johnny, what the fuck is going on,” I had blurted out, trying my best to sound really angry, “what the hell am I doing here?”
“Magneto asked me to bring you here so he could ask you a few questions,” John replied coolly.
“Ask me a few questions? You mean fucking torture me?” I had practically screamed at John, feeling a twinge of fear.
John’s lighter flicked on and he laughed for a moment. I remember how serious he became when he spoke again. “Do you honestly think I’d let him?” His face took on a strange softness. I didn’t know what to say then, and I still don’t. But I know that my anger had dissipated at that point, replaced by longing. Johnny still cared. He still wouldn’t let anything hurt me.
Before the moment could draw out any longer, Johnny started talking again.
“So Bobby,” he teased me, “How’s life with the X-Men?” I didn’t say anything. I watched as he brought the still-lit lighter to his mouth and just held it there, the flame dancing over his lips.
“They been teaching you to control your power? Focus it more? Make it stronger?” He continued, the flame on the lighter increasing in size. I wasn’t too nervous about that. John’s fire had never been a threat to me. Unless he caught me off guard.
I remember I had tried to be defiant. “Yeah, they’ve taught me enough.” In retrospect, that was the wrong thing to say. It sounded too much like a challenge and challenging Johnny had never been a good idea.
“Have they? I’ve learned a few things, too. Let’s see how well you hold up,” John had replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. He puckered his lips (the sight of that made it even harder for me to convince myself that he didn’t make me painfully horny, make me want to do the things we used to) and slowly exhaled onto the fire. As he did so, it snaked off the lighter and moved toward me, slow and pulsing and writhing. He was giving me plenty of time to see it coming and it was coming right at me. My hands were tied. I couldn’t freeze it. I concentrated and dropped my body temperature forming a layer of ice over my skin. I remember the strangely pleasant warmth of John’s fire as it slid onto my chest. My shirt caught, and I watched in a mixture of awe and fear as it burned and I focused so hard on keeping my body temperature low enough that I wouldn’t go up in flames too. I remember how slowly John walked toward me as I inhaled the smell of my shirt burning. It went out a few moments later, at John’s mental command. John had been standing awfully close to me at that point. He put his hand on my chest and tugged away the charred remains of my shirt. Once again, his lips on my ear.
“Nice control,” he whispered in a way that I am now certain was meant to be suggestive. I wanted John so, so much at that point. Feeling that fire all over me had been the final straw. That fire was John’s fire, and extension of him. And he wrappe bod body in it, caressed me with it. I remember I turned my head to look at him, telling myself I had no idea that John’s face was that close to mine. When I turned my head my lips had brushed over his. He didn’t pull away. I guess he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. He had a little stubble on his face, just enough to make it rough.
“Miss me, Bobby?” he sounded almost hopeful as he began to stroke my cheek rather absently. I remember feeling so conflicted then. I could keep lying and tell him no John! Of course I didn’t miss you, you’re a traitor and I’m an X-Man now. Or I could tell the truth and lose face in front of him and tell him oh God yes I think about you so much and I jerk off thinking about you and every little thing I see reminds me of you and it hurts so much. So I had just decided to say nothing. I just leaned forward a bit and pressed my lips more firmly to his. Johnny may have left Xavier’s school, but at that point I realized he hadn’t really left me. His hands on my face and in my hair, his tongue sliding into my mouth… I miss it so much. And at that moment, I wanted it more than I realized. As he kissed me harder, his hand dragged lazily down my chest to rest in my lap, right on top of my cock, which at that point was positively aching for him. I thrust up into his hand, wanting him to touch me more. I felt like a slut, but at that point I decided that for him, I’d be a slut. I still would be. Want to be. I remember he licked along my jaw line and up to my ear. “You did miss me, Bobby,” he whispered silkily before moving his mouth down my neck. I allowed my head to fall back onto the chair. I’m sure I was moaning at that point, telling Johnny how badly I wanted him, begging him not to stop as his mouth slid down over my chest and teased my nipples. His hands stroked my thighs, pushed them apart. I remember the anticipation I felt as it dawned on me what he was going to do. I wished my hands weren’t tied so I could run them through his hair as he continued to go down. His hair had always been so soft.
I remember how good it felt as he unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock and wrapped his lips around it. Johnny has always been incredible at giving head. I suppose part of it was those lips of his; so soft and full. He sucked on the head before pulling back long enough to say, “Nice control indeed. I’m surprised you haven’t come all over yet, seeing as how I know you haven’t gotten any since I left.” I had been slightly pissed at that point. Johnny and his smart mouth. I have to admit, that’s one thing I didn’t miss. Oh well, even the most beautiful people have their flaws. And at that point I was way too horny to care about anything other than fucking John’s beautiful mouth.
Shit, I’m getting hard right now just thinking about it. How unbelievably good it felt, how it was like when he was still here and we would suck each other off in his bed. That particular time he didn’t let me come, though. He pulled away and stood. He didn’t wipe his mouth and it was wet from my pre-cum and God I was so close to coming. I vividly remember what happened next. Johnny started taking his clothes off for me. He did it slowly, unbuttoning his shirt before letting it drop with a roll of his shoulders. He ran his hands down his chest before resting them on his own crotch and I could see how tented his pants were and knew that he had been needing this as much as I had. He ran his hand over his erection before he unzipped his pants and let them drop, kick off his shoes. He grabbed his lighter out of his pants pocket, sort of breaking the mood for a second. His lighter was him. He could never be without it.
I remember thinking what a weird coincidence that he was wearing the same pair of boxers then as he did last time we did all that. Now I’m thinking that maybe it wasn’t such a coincidence. Black cotton boxers, with fire printed on them. I could see the lines of his hip bones disappearing into the waistband, the fine thin trail of hair that started just under his belly button and continued downward. At that point I was realizing exactly how much I had missed John. I had all the little details of his body intimately memorized, and I only needed him more and more as they were all revealed to me again.
I remember being practically in awe as John turned around and bent at the waist to slide his boxers off. He gracefully stepped out of them and sauntered over to me. He sat in my lap. It was almost unbearable; feeling the bare skin of his ass and his cock rubbing against my own.
“Bobby,” he whispered once more, “did you miss this?”
At that point I decided I wasn’t fooling anyone and may as well just admit it.
“Yes,” I gasped out, “I’ve been needing it so much. Needing you.”
“Thought so,” he replied smugly taking hold of my cock and shifting himself so that he was positioned above it. I remember how hard it was not to scream as he slowly lowered himself, the expression on his face almost pained, concentrating on relaxing. I watched as my cock slowly disappeared inside him. Watched his face, too. At the time it seemed forever until his ass was seated on my thighs, but in reality it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two.
I remember how he simply sat there for a moment and wrapped his arms around me, around the back of the chair. As much as I remember the pleasure I remember the hot, agonizing pain as he flicked the lighter on and strengthened the fire and burned the ropes holding my hands. It was fucking incredible. I lowered my body temperature as quickly as possible, but I couldn’t do it in time. Johnny caught me off guard and my wrists hurt like I had never felt pain before. I must have been moaning at the time, though I don’t really remember that, or if I would have been moaning from pain or pleasure, because John gasped out, “liked that, did you?” And I did like it. The pain was so intense, so bright, like John himself. And his fire. I found myself that much closer to coming.
Through the searing pain I remember feeling ecstatic because my arms were free. I threw my arms around him, savoring the fresh pain as the raw burns on my wrist brushed roughly against John’s skin. John was moving now, grinding his hips in a powerful hypnotic rhythm and holy shit I don’t remember it ever being this good, not even in John’s bed. I ran my hands all over him as he fucked me, re-acquainting myself with the heat and feel of his skin. One of my hands was between his legs and stroking his cock. He thrust into my hand and caused the burns to rub painfully against skin, his or mine. The pain throbbed in time with the pleasure of his body around my cock and even then I knew I wasn’t going to last long, especially not when John started whispering in my ear. I don’t remember all of what he said, but I remember it made me wild, especially when he told me that he needed this as much as I did, that I felt so good inside him like this and that he’d never forget the things we had done together. I grabbed his hips and thrust into him with short hard movements. Johnny came before I did, and the sight of that will always be burned into my mind. I’d seen him come before, but never like this. He was so loud, moaning and gasping running his hands over my chest and what really killed me was when my name left his lips in the midst of his orgasm. Telling me that this was so good and that he never wanted it to end. I remember coming with him, probably only moments later. Pulling his face to mine so I could kiss him, taste him in the heat of his passion.
I remember feeling tears in my eyes afterward. I don’t know when I started crying but I was. Maybe it was from the pain of the burns, or from the pleasure of the fucking. Maybe not. I still haven’t decided. I held him as he shifted and I slid out of him, my head buried in the crook of his neck breathing him in. We stayed like for almost a full minute. Then I had talk and ruin it. I had to know, though.
“Johnny… why… why did you…” My voice was breaking. It hurt so much to ask him. It just reminded me that we could never have what we used to. That Johnny and I didn’t live in the same room anymore, we lived in different worlds. That I would no longer wake up to the sound of his breathing, to the feeling of his arm draped over me. It still hurts. Hurts so much I find myself reaching for a tissue. God, why am I even thinking about this? Especially the last part.
I remember what he said then. “Why did I leave, Bobby? I left because I made a choice. You made a choice, too. And it wasn’t me.”