Complicated
folder
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,380
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,380
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the X-Men movies, or any of the characters from them. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Complicated
Sometimes Bobby likes to pretend he's in control of the situation.
Sometimes he likes to manipulate his powers, just a touch, leave ice on the tips of his fingers and trail them down St. John's torso, watch the stuff melt to trickles of water on that hot, hot skin, even as the other boy arches beneath him, hissing through his teeth.
Other times Bobby likes to pretend he's only letting St. John take over, as if the other couldn't do it all on his own.
Those times he feels like he is the one who's melting, with all that heat above -- below around inside -- him, when St. John makes him arch and hiss and writhe and come in a blindingdeafeningwhirling rush.
And it's always fuckyousohard and sotightsotight and goddamnbeautiful and sucknow and fuckingslutIloveyou. Bobby watches his mouth when he can, watches those prettypretty lips part to say such scandalous things and he wants to fucking gnaw at them and make them his and make him take back all those words that make Bobby feel so filthyusedgood.
But usually he's not watching because St. John likes to twist Bobby's arm behind him and wheedle his hand down the front of Bobby's pants and grind into him until they're both panting and Bobby breaks and whimpers and asks (begs) for it and St. John says "what?" and Bobby whines "fuck me."
And when St. John isn't talking, it's because he's pressed Bobby into the wall; he likes to suck hard at the back of his neck, lick each knob and dent in his spine on the way down, before putting his hotwetslick tongue to a use Bobby had never imagined before he came along. He knows St. John likes it because it makes Bobby blush and squirm and say things he never would otherwise, say things that are almost as bad as what St. John says to him, only his voice can't be half as tantalizing.
Then he's gone, and even when Bobby's talking with Marie, convincing himself he loves her and wondering how she might feel and how she might react to fuckingslutIloveyou, he can't help but wish her lips were a little more firm, that she was all fire and passion and not this quiet, reserved creature, and why did St. John leave?
Bobby's afraid of what may come if St. John returns, if he sees him again, because St. John will be changed and Bobby won't, and maybe then when his arm's behind his back and he's grunting and jerking into that hand the fire will consume him and things won't be so complicated.
Sometimes he likes to manipulate his powers, just a touch, leave ice on the tips of his fingers and trail them down St. John's torso, watch the stuff melt to trickles of water on that hot, hot skin, even as the other boy arches beneath him, hissing through his teeth.
Other times Bobby likes to pretend he's only letting St. John take over, as if the other couldn't do it all on his own.
Those times he feels like he is the one who's melting, with all that heat above -- below around inside -- him, when St. John makes him arch and hiss and writhe and come in a blindingdeafeningwhirling rush.
And it's always fuckyousohard and sotightsotight and goddamnbeautiful and sucknow and fuckingslutIloveyou. Bobby watches his mouth when he can, watches those prettypretty lips part to say such scandalous things and he wants to fucking gnaw at them and make them his and make him take back all those words that make Bobby feel so filthyusedgood.
But usually he's not watching because St. John likes to twist Bobby's arm behind him and wheedle his hand down the front of Bobby's pants and grind into him until they're both panting and Bobby breaks and whimpers and asks (begs) for it and St. John says "what?" and Bobby whines "fuck me."
And when St. John isn't talking, it's because he's pressed Bobby into the wall; he likes to suck hard at the back of his neck, lick each knob and dent in his spine on the way down, before putting his hotwetslick tongue to a use Bobby had never imagined before he came along. He knows St. John likes it because it makes Bobby blush and squirm and say things he never would otherwise, say things that are almost as bad as what St. John says to him, only his voice can't be half as tantalizing.
Then he's gone, and even when Bobby's talking with Marie, convincing himself he loves her and wondering how she might feel and how she might react to fuckingslutIloveyou, he can't help but wish her lips were a little more firm, that she was all fire and passion and not this quiet, reserved creature, and why did St. John leave?
Bobby's afraid of what may come if St. John returns, if he sees him again, because St. John will be changed and Bobby won't, and maybe then when his arm's behind his back and he's grunting and jerking into that hand the fire will consume him and things won't be so complicated.