Forget to Wear Blue

The first time Mystique came to Pyro, she was wearing Bobby’s skin. She woke him up by climbing into his bed and kissing him, which scared the holy hell out of him and almost got her burned…until he saw her eyes glow and knew. And it didn’t really matter that it wasn’t really Bobby hissing his name into the flesh of his shoulder or arching against him. It didn’t matter that the body beneath him trembled and wavered for a moment when she came and for an instant, she was, well she. Mystique; mysterious, dangerous, covered in fanning azure scales, trying so hard to be whatever she thought he wanted. Anything other than herself.

She didn’t come to his room every night, but she did it often enough that he no longer jumped and reached for his lighter when she did. She’d slip silently into his bed and wake him up with her hands or her mouth on his body and never say anything. She could be anyone he wanted and look like anything he desired in his most secret fantasies. She could be Bobby, or Jean Grey, or Ororo, or Kitty, or Rogue, and she had been. She had been all of them many times. For all of her angry words about how they shouldn’t have to pretend to be “normal”, she was pretty afraid to let him see her as anything else.

Pyro was laying awake with his head resting on one arm when he felt the mattress dip under her weight, then her hands running up the insides of his thighs, her breath on his hip, her tongue on his navel. He caught his breath and reached down to pull her up and look at her. See whose face she was wearing tonight.

“Kitty,” he said softly. “Don’t be Kitty for me.”

Mystique tilted her head to one side and slid up to straddle his hips, one hand moving between his legs to wrap around his cock and caress it. She rolled her hips lightly, her yellow eyes glowing right into his as her skin shivered and Kitty melted into Bobby.

“No,” he said, his stomach muscles tensing as he moved with her, thrusting up into her clever fingers. “No.”

She leaned down and touched her lips to his briefly and it was Rogue’s mouth kissing him.

With a growl, Pyro seized her hips and rolled her beneath him. She stared up at him with wide, bright eyes and her lips slowly curved in a satisfied smile.

“Not her either,” Pyro said, and the smile disappeared in confusion.

He ran his hands up her sides, fingers tripping over each little indent of her ribs, along her arms to her wrists. He pulled them over her head and held them there against the mattress in one hand. His other hand he ran down her stomach, fingers lightly grazing over the cleft of her sex without lingering. She gasped and pushed up against him, but he moved his hand away to grasp her thigh.

“You still look like Rogue,” Pyro murmured, darting his tongue out to lick her bottom lip. “I don’t want Rogue.”

Mystique tugged at her arms, wanting to wrap them around his shoulders, but he tightened his hold on her wrists and shook his head, eyes taunting her. “Get rid of it,” he said.

She stared at him and considered. She was strong enough—maybe stronger than he was—that she could have broken his hold if she really wanted to. Instead, she nodded, wrapped her legs around his waist, and with a flashing ripple of scales, dissolved the Rogue glamour.

“Who?” she asked softly.

He grinned down at her and let go of her arms. “No one,” he said. He grasped her hips in his hands and pushed inside her.

She moaned and dragged her fingers down his back, careful not to cut him with her dense, sharp nails. “What do you mean…‘no one’?”

He pulled out and thrust back inside her roughly, forcing a small sound of pleasure from her throat. He lowered his head and kissed her quickly, nipping the corner of her mouth, licking down her neck to her shoulder as he started to move in slow, deep strokes. “I mean you,” Pyro said. “Not them. I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you.”

“You’re…insane,” she said. She arched against him, the tips of her nails pricking his skin just a little.

“Yeah, probably,” he said with a wicked grin. He dipped his head and swiped his tongue over one of her dark nipples, then caught it between his teeth and lightly tugged.

She hissed at him and threw her weight against him, reversing their positions so that she was on top of him again. She braced herself with her hands on his belly and lifted up, then slowly slid back down. He groaned and twisted his hands in the sheets on either side of his hips, thrusting up.

With a breathless little sound of amusement, Mystique bent her head close to his like she was going to kiss him. “Pyro,” she murmured.

He opened his eyes and stared into a reflection of his own face, mere inches away from his own. “No,” he snapped. “No, I don’t fucking think so, you bitch.” He tried to shove her off, but she was strong and grasped his shoulders and held on. “Get rid of it or get the fuck off of me,” Pyro snarled.

She blinked at him, her skin moved and she was her dark self again. She stared into his eyes and, very deliberately, rolled her hips. “You’re serious.”

Pyro gasped and reached for her, tangling his fingers in the back of her scarlet hair and pulling her face down to his. He kissed her, and there was nothing tender about it. It was an act of lust and passion, of need, but he did it with his eyes open. “I’m serious,” he said when he broke the kiss.

She remained where she was, her face close to his, bracing her weight on her arms on either side of his face, bodies pressed flush together so that he could feel her hip bones whenever she moved on him, sliding in the sweat on their skin as she slowly rode him. Her breath started to come in little hitching moans as pleasure slowly mounted, intensifying and swelling like a beating heart.

“Christ,” Pyro said, thrusting up into her, his head falling back. He moved his hands to her hips, his fingers digging in painfully. Mystique hissed at him again and clamped her teeth down on his shoulder. She drew no blood, but there would be a bruise there.

Because of the blue of her flesh, she could not actually flush, but the scales of her skin fanned out a little, and he was familiar enough with her body that he knew it was the same thing. It was sexy as fuck and he loved it when she did that.

Mystique made a soft whimpering sound and her body tensed as she came. Pyro held on to her hips and kept her moving, forcing her to ride out her orgasm while he sought his own. She murmured something that hummed pleasurably against his skin, and then he was coming with a sharp cry that echoed into the dark room, and she was laughing with her teeth nipping at his earlobe.

“Someone will have heard that,” she whispered.

He threw an arm over his face and breathed deeply. “I don’t…give a…shit,” he panted.

She lifted her head and studied him quietly for a moment. She trailed one sharp nail down his throat, scratching over his collarbone. “That's so sweet,” she said dryly.

He snorted. “Yeah.”

Mystique crawled off of him, slid off the bed, and quietly crossed the room to the door. She halted with her hand on the knob and turned her head to look back at him. Pyro could feel her staring at him, her yellow eyes intense, like she was trying figure him out. He could have told her not to bother, he wasn't so hard to figure out, really, but he didn't. Even he had learned that sometimes silence is the only way. He lifted his arm and watched her studying him from beneath it. She looked like she wanted to say something, but after a minute she opened the door and left without a word.

He sighed, closed his eyes, and went quickly to sleep with her familiar scent all around him.

//finis//