Meeting Etiquette
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X-men Comics › Slash - Male/Male › Bobby/Jean-Paul
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,583
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
X-men Comics › Slash - Male/Male › Bobby/Jean-Paul
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,583
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Meeting Etiquette
Title: Meeting Etiquette
Author: SmuttyKitty
Pairing: NS/Iceman
Disclaimers: The X-Men are property of Marvel. Damn them!
Author's notes: A little dirty fun! Have you ever noticed you could beat a man to death with a Hitachi Magic Wand? It's giant. More pertinent notes regarding JP's psychic powers. This is canon, though after it showing up that the twins have a psychic rapport it was never touched again. I decided to stretch this into weakly funtional telepathy. I didn't think you would mind.
Rating: hard R
Bobby hated meetings, so naturally he had to go to lots of them. Warren and Kurt who were under delusions of leadership these days were standing up there blah blah blahing. He looked over at his main squeeze, Northstar and could divine that he was feeling similar boredom from his slightly glazed over look, though he was hiding it better than Bobby was.
Bobby nudged the boot next to his under the table, hoping to initate some footsy to kill time. He felt the other man stir in his seat a little. He snuck a look at the handsome profile and felt a flicker of desire. Jean-Paul caught his eyes briefly, and Bobby noted there was a distinctly naughty light in them. Quickly they both resumed their postures of false attention.
Jean-Paul shifted his chair slightly closer to Bobby, and cleared his throat, but no one in the room noticed. He sipped his water demurely, while his unoccupied hand disappeared under the table. Bobby held his breath hoping it was headed where he hoped. He wasn't disappointed when he felt Jean-Paul rub his groin through his uniform pants. But just as Bobby was getting a hard-on, the hand stopped and rested on his wrist.
Now he was confused. JP wasn't the most affectionate or romantic guy, particularly in public. His idea of PDA was a blow job in the toilet. All the same the lovely fingers were stroking his wrist and hand, and he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it.
He closed his eyes briefly, relaxing under the ministrations. Suddenly he felt a pushing at the edge of him mind. He really hoped it wasn't Jean or Emma, the thoughts he was entertaining weren't particularly purient.
/Actually, it's someone more pleasing I hope./
/Jean-Paul? I thought the only person you could mentally communicate with was your sister./
/No, but I don't care to use it and I am not very good at it. Is this really what you want to be talking about? I was hoping we could exchanging some of those other thoughts./ Bobby could feel the other man's smirk in his mind.
/Why, Jean-Paul are you telepathically propositioning me?/
/Rraowr... Maybe. Mostly I am thinking about how I want to climb under this table and blow you./
Bobby's cock stiffened instantly. God he loved to feel that slightly hotter than normal mouth licking, sucking, and nibbling him. He also loved it when Jean-Paul engaged in his own brand of dirty talk, which was mainly a tendency to say inappropriate things at inappropriate times. Much like this.
/so, what's stopping you?/
/What do I get out of it? I am not a man who gives something for nothing./
/hmmm, I suppose after this meeting I could take you back to your room, bend you over and fuck you 'til you scream./
/Promises, promises Robert./
/How can you still sound French, even telepathically?/
/Robert, I am trying to engage you in dirty talk. Why must you insist on being so tangential?/ Mental sigh.
/Talk is cheap baby, just wait 'til we get out of here./
/I am going to go back to pretending to listen, you can sit there uncomfortably./ Blue eyes glanced at Bobby's lap.
/Okay, okay. So tell me about this under the table blow job./
Jean-Paul did one better and shared his mental imagery. Bobby could see the same boring meeting room, though with a few differences. Warren was naked and clucking like a chicken..
/Stop it! Stick to the topic! Now who is being tangential?/
The mental Jean-Paul pulled a snarky face and started sliding under the table. Bobby was undeniably enjoying the sight of the other man crawling around on all fours. Looking very seductive, he ambled over to Bobby's legs, pushed them open and moved in. With a face like a kid's on Christmas he grabbed the uniform's belt buckle and undid it. Bobby could sense Jean-Paul's arousal at the sound. Then he felt his pants being slowly unzipped and parted. The dark head dipped to nuzzle at the bulge held under the briefs, the feel of hot breath heightening Bobby's arousal. Then Jean-Paul reached in through the flap and pulled Bobby out.
Jean-Paul gave Bobby a wicked grin and licked his lips. The hot, pink tongue licked him up and down. On the next upstroke the tongue circled the crown, then lapped at the slit. Now the tongue retreated, and soft lips kissed instead. Bobby was starting to squirm, both mentally and in reality. He was dying with suspense.
Jean-Paul played alittle more, enjoying Bobby's excitment, then opened his mouth and went down.
Bobby gasped, and the corporeal Jean-Paul pinched the back of his hand. Bobby instigated a fit of fake coughing to cover it, and his boyfriend rolled his eyes so hard he was afraid he would have a seizure.
/Now where were we?/ Jean-Paul glittered archly.
/The blowing?/ Bobby offered helpfully.
/Ah, yes./ And the mental Jean-Paul went back to deepthroating.
Bobby couldn't get enough of that hot mouth and ran his fingers through the black curls, urging him faster and deeper. He could feel his orgasm coming on him, a train like roar building in his head.
Jean-Paul sucked harder and added his hands to the mix. The two together brought Bobby to climax, the other man indulgently letting Bobby spill on his face, something Jean-Paul wasn't keen on in reality.
/Ah, oh God./ He wondered if it was horrible of him to really love the sight of cum on that pretty face.
Jean-Paul made a seductive face then ran his finger through the spunk and sucked it.
/Damn, that was great./ Bobby said breathlessly, the mental imagery retreating from his mind.
/I'm glad you liked it, just don't forget you owe me./
/I won't forget. Is this meeting over yet?/ Bobby didn't want to sit in a wet spot longer than he had to.
/Almost. We should pay attention now./
Jean-Paul started to pull his hand away, but Bobby grabbed it and held it in his.
/Not so fast. Don't fuck and run on me./
/You're such a girl./
/And you are act like a misogynist when you talk like that./
/Don't kill me with PC, especially now./
/You be quiet. We hold hands now, we can fuck later. It won't kill you./
/You don't know that./
But Bobby could see he was getting his way. A little smile twisted on the elfin face next to him.
If they could kill time like this at every meeting, Bobby might actually start showing up to more of them. He sat back contented for a moment, and squeezed the bony hand under his.
Author: SmuttyKitty
Pairing: NS/Iceman
Disclaimers: The X-Men are property of Marvel. Damn them!
Author's notes: A little dirty fun! Have you ever noticed you could beat a man to death with a Hitachi Magic Wand? It's giant. More pertinent notes regarding JP's psychic powers. This is canon, though after it showing up that the twins have a psychic rapport it was never touched again. I decided to stretch this into weakly funtional telepathy. I didn't think you would mind.
Rating: hard R
Bobby hated meetings, so naturally he had to go to lots of them. Warren and Kurt who were under delusions of leadership these days were standing up there blah blah blahing. He looked over at his main squeeze, Northstar and could divine that he was feeling similar boredom from his slightly glazed over look, though he was hiding it better than Bobby was.
Bobby nudged the boot next to his under the table, hoping to initate some footsy to kill time. He felt the other man stir in his seat a little. He snuck a look at the handsome profile and felt a flicker of desire. Jean-Paul caught his eyes briefly, and Bobby noted there was a distinctly naughty light in them. Quickly they both resumed their postures of false attention.
Jean-Paul shifted his chair slightly closer to Bobby, and cleared his throat, but no one in the room noticed. He sipped his water demurely, while his unoccupied hand disappeared under the table. Bobby held his breath hoping it was headed where he hoped. He wasn't disappointed when he felt Jean-Paul rub his groin through his uniform pants. But just as Bobby was getting a hard-on, the hand stopped and rested on his wrist.
Now he was confused. JP wasn't the most affectionate or romantic guy, particularly in public. His idea of PDA was a blow job in the toilet. All the same the lovely fingers were stroking his wrist and hand, and he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it.
He closed his eyes briefly, relaxing under the ministrations. Suddenly he felt a pushing at the edge of him mind. He really hoped it wasn't Jean or Emma, the thoughts he was entertaining weren't particularly purient.
/Actually, it's someone more pleasing I hope./
/Jean-Paul? I thought the only person you could mentally communicate with was your sister./
/No, but I don't care to use it and I am not very good at it. Is this really what you want to be talking about? I was hoping we could exchanging some of those other thoughts./ Bobby could feel the other man's smirk in his mind.
/Why, Jean-Paul are you telepathically propositioning me?/
/Rraowr... Maybe. Mostly I am thinking about how I want to climb under this table and blow you./
Bobby's cock stiffened instantly. God he loved to feel that slightly hotter than normal mouth licking, sucking, and nibbling him. He also loved it when Jean-Paul engaged in his own brand of dirty talk, which was mainly a tendency to say inappropriate things at inappropriate times. Much like this.
/so, what's stopping you?/
/What do I get out of it? I am not a man who gives something for nothing./
/hmmm, I suppose after this meeting I could take you back to your room, bend you over and fuck you 'til you scream./
/Promises, promises Robert./
/How can you still sound French, even telepathically?/
/Robert, I am trying to engage you in dirty talk. Why must you insist on being so tangential?/ Mental sigh.
/Talk is cheap baby, just wait 'til we get out of here./
/I am going to go back to pretending to listen, you can sit there uncomfortably./ Blue eyes glanced at Bobby's lap.
/Okay, okay. So tell me about this under the table blow job./
Jean-Paul did one better and shared his mental imagery. Bobby could see the same boring meeting room, though with a few differences. Warren was naked and clucking like a chicken..
/Stop it! Stick to the topic! Now who is being tangential?/
The mental Jean-Paul pulled a snarky face and started sliding under the table. Bobby was undeniably enjoying the sight of the other man crawling around on all fours. Looking very seductive, he ambled over to Bobby's legs, pushed them open and moved in. With a face like a kid's on Christmas he grabbed the uniform's belt buckle and undid it. Bobby could sense Jean-Paul's arousal at the sound. Then he felt his pants being slowly unzipped and parted. The dark head dipped to nuzzle at the bulge held under the briefs, the feel of hot breath heightening Bobby's arousal. Then Jean-Paul reached in through the flap and pulled Bobby out.
Jean-Paul gave Bobby a wicked grin and licked his lips. The hot, pink tongue licked him up and down. On the next upstroke the tongue circled the crown, then lapped at the slit. Now the tongue retreated, and soft lips kissed instead. Bobby was starting to squirm, both mentally and in reality. He was dying with suspense.
Jean-Paul played alittle more, enjoying Bobby's excitment, then opened his mouth and went down.
Bobby gasped, and the corporeal Jean-Paul pinched the back of his hand. Bobby instigated a fit of fake coughing to cover it, and his boyfriend rolled his eyes so hard he was afraid he would have a seizure.
/Now where were we?/ Jean-Paul glittered archly.
/The blowing?/ Bobby offered helpfully.
/Ah, yes./ And the mental Jean-Paul went back to deepthroating.
Bobby couldn't get enough of that hot mouth and ran his fingers through the black curls, urging him faster and deeper. He could feel his orgasm coming on him, a train like roar building in his head.
Jean-Paul sucked harder and added his hands to the mix. The two together brought Bobby to climax, the other man indulgently letting Bobby spill on his face, something Jean-Paul wasn't keen on in reality.
/Ah, oh God./ He wondered if it was horrible of him to really love the sight of cum on that pretty face.
Jean-Paul made a seductive face then ran his finger through the spunk and sucked it.
/Damn, that was great./ Bobby said breathlessly, the mental imagery retreating from his mind.
/I'm glad you liked it, just don't forget you owe me./
/I won't forget. Is this meeting over yet?/ Bobby didn't want to sit in a wet spot longer than he had to.
/Almost. We should pay attention now./
Jean-Paul started to pull his hand away, but Bobby grabbed it and held it in his.
/Not so fast. Don't fuck and run on me./
/You're such a girl./
/And you are act like a misogynist when you talk like that./
/Don't kill me with PC, especially now./
/You be quiet. We hold hands now, we can fuck later. It won't kill you./
/You don't know that./
But Bobby could see he was getting his way. A little smile twisted on the elfin face next to him.
If they could kill time like this at every meeting, Bobby might actually start showing up to more of them. He sat back contented for a moment, and squeezed the bony hand under his.