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FIC: Fragment: 2/3: Bobby, St. John/Bobby: NC-17

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  • Jenn
    2/3 It was a--well, shack. Better word impossible, and shack might actually be kind. Four walls that looked like they were made of cracker rejects, roof that
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 18, 2002

      It was a--well, shack. Better word impossible, and shack might actually be
      kind. Four walls that looked like they were made of cracker rejects, roof
      that was doing a bare job of keeping the snow out, and a small stone
      fireplace that God alone knew how Johnny had gotten functional.

      No sense of time, but it was dark outside, which could be a storm or
      nightfall, and really, did Bobby give a good damn?

      Yes. Maybe. No. If he kept his eyes closed, he was eighteen, and the bed
      could be his at home. Could be. St. John would be curled up beside him,
      and Pyro would be only a future possibility. It'd be nice, that.

      Reality sucked. Bobby was beginning to wonder if he should believe in it
      at all. Turning a little, he looked down, studying the hard features, hard
      even at rest. Solid and so bright even in the darkest parts of him, and
      still Johnny, down to the profanity used like croutons on salad and the
      cold behind his eyes that five years in Westchester had never removed, only
      hidden. Carol's protegee in the flesh, and Rogue had understood why he
      left them, in the end. Long before Bobby did. Maybe before Johnny did

      "Mm." Little shiver against him, instinctively shifting closer, moving the
      mattress. "Go back to sleep, amigo. Freezing to death is easier
      unconscious. A lot more fun, too."

      Brown head against his chest, burrowed under his arm and so warm. Long
      line of his back and beneath the blanket, Bobby's hand touched a strip of
      bare skin, silky soft, edge of his top rucked up from sleep. Legs tangled
      through his, arm thrown around his waist.

      Bobby remembered how Johnny liked to touch him.

      "I don't freeze to death and neither do you." Bobby lifted himself
      gingerly on one arm, careful not to move Johnny. "I don't think I'm
      suppose to sleep with a concussion, though. Wake up and amuse me."

      "Fuck you." Johnny burrowed closer and Bobby breathed out at the wet
      stripe of a tongue across his chest. Should have been a little shock, but
      it wasn't. Just--familiar.

      "That would work too." Bobby thought about it, shutting his eyes at the
      next lick. Like being tasted. "At least, I'd be awake."

      Blue eyes slitted open, checking him out.

      "You're concussed." Mildly stated.

      "So?" Bobby grinned, letting his hand slide up, falling in the matted
      hair. Patiently working out the tangles, dried blood flaking off his
      fingers, dirt falling. Slow, careful, rubbing his fingers deep into
      Johnny's scalp like he'd always loved, loved now, too. Moving into the
      touch with a little sigh and a low growl of appreciation like a cat. Arm
      tightening around him like he was worried Bobby would get away.

      Bobby getting away, though, had never been their problem.

      "I'm just that kind of guy. Random flash freezing to keep people on their
      toes too."

      He felt Johnny's smile rather than saw it, curled his fingers through the
      thick hair and tilting Johnny's head up. Eyes closed, mouth curved in a
      grin, hint of white teeth. Moving down just to taste, no harm in
      that--quick and fast and so warm that he had to come back and try it again.

      Open mouth and letting him in, licking inside. So warm and so good, like
      snow and heat and how fire had to taste, and Bobby sucked the offered lip,
      nipping the tongue when it came in range, sucked lightly. Little gasp of
      pleasure and pain both just like a goad.

      Bobby pulled back and dropped a hand to the back of Johnny's neck, curling
      his fingers around to brush his thumb against the pulse.

      "Aren't we supposed to be enemies?" Low, breathless, and no where near no.
      Bobby grinned as he tilted Johnny's head back, exposing the long line of
      his throat.

      "Truce, remember?" Jugular, pulsing under his tongue. Bit down to get a
      full-body shudder that had nothing to do with the cold, bright-hot jump of
      heat in the room, and Bobby lifted his head briefly to stare at the
      fireplace. "You said you weren't controlling that fire."

      "Lied." Johnny's hands were moving--sliding under the leather of his
      uniform, up his spine. Back down with his nails and Bobby shuddered. "I
      like to control everything."

      "And that's supposed to be a surprise?" Bobby ducked his head again,
      sucking at the exposed throat. Down over the shoulder, and got a hand down
      to search for buttons or fastenings on the front of Johnny's uniform. "How
      the fuck do you put this thing on?" Stiff, like leather, but not quite.
      Smooth. His fingers loved it, but there were far more interesting things

      "Just a--mmm. Yeah." And dammit, hands leaving his back, going to find
      whatever magical device held that top together, sitting up to pull it over
      his head. Oh. That was easy. "You--you, too."

      "Right." Bobby sat up, fumbling the remains of his top off, tossing it
      beside Johnny. "I wonder what the penalty is for fraternization with the

      Took a second while Johnny laughed. Ten years all right. Different and
      the same. Too thin, like muscle tied to bone, skin stretched tight over
      all. All angles and sharp lines. Harder. Just beautiful.

      "Bad. I think. Ask Erik. He fraternizes all the time. Or not, 'cause he
      doesn't call it that." Johnny grinned, leaning over him and finding a
      nipple. Bobby sucked in a breath, arching. "God, you taste good." Slow,
      casual licks, like he was tasting a popsicle and Bobby couldn't help
      chuckling at the bad metaphors he was employing. Too weird. Too, too

      Sharp bite and Bobby groaned, arching up instinctively.

      "Harder." Johnny's fingers closed over his other nipple, twisting, biting
      harder, probably bruise and who cared about that anyway? "God, Johnny--"

      "Yeah." Breath on his chest, cool on the mouth-dampness and Johnny
      straddled him, right over his cock, grinding down a little as he settled
      himself. Braced on his elbows over him, and Bobby buried his hands in the
      messy hair, pulling him down and taking the warm mouth. Wonderful,
      familiar, and God, he'd lived *without* this? Why the *fuck* did there
      need to be a war anyway? "I've missed you."

      "Coulda fooled me," Bobby whispered, licking over one high cheekbone.
      Blood flaking there, no wound though. Sensitive skin of the temple, chin.
      Bit his jaw hard, leaving his teethmarks, and no question it would bruise.
      Made him want to mark Johnny everywhere.

      "Not like you've been alone," Johnny whispered, letting Bobby roll him
      over. Long legs around his, heel digging into the back of his thigh as
      Johnny arched up against him, rubbing hard. Bobby took a breath--so hard
      and just, well, okay. This was could be maybe should be something near
      wrong, but why care again? Closed his fingers over Johnny's nipple and
      twisted, hard, watched the blue eyes shut tight, head going back.

      "Being alone and being lonely are different things." Warm skin all over
      that chest, tight muscle to trace with his tongue. Rough swipes to take it
      all in, new scars his tongue found without hesitation, familiar texture of
      old ones. Pushed himself down for better access, and Johnny's stomach was
      there, close and silky soft skin, fine light hair he licked into place. A
      sucking bite beneath his navel and Johnny's hands tighten in his hair.
      Fingers trace the ridged line of scar tissue that dipped from waist to
      beneath the pants toward his hip. "Fuck. What happened?"

      "Few years ago. Got on the wrong side of some FoH. Friendly bunch."
      Johnny hissed. "Touch--stop teasing."

      "Impatient." There was so much to do--Johnny twitched everywhere,
      erogenous zones like no one's business. Bobby had traced them all once
      upon a time, and his fingers and his mouth remembered. Remembered even
      when they didn't want to, remembered on bodies that had never had them.
      Freaked him out sometimes, but it was body memory all the way and it
      was--this. Bobby found the zipper, thank God so obvious, jerking it down
      and peeling the material back. Like a second skin. "I like these pants."

      "Fireproof too." Low chuckle and Bobby looked up. Johnny's eyes were
      closed, one hand slowly circling his nipple. Hot, so hot. "Multitask

      "No underwear," Bobby whispered, and Johnny lifted enough for him to pull
      the pants off. Long, lean thighs, too thin, hard muscle there too.
      Scooting down, Bobby tongued his inner thigh. Sucked into the skin hard,
      licking gently over and pushing his legs apart. "When did you stop wearing

      "With *those* pants? Mmm. Think about it. Oh--yes, Bobby. Fuck."
      Hissed breath and Bobby grinned as he skipped over to the other thigh,
      holding it down to do some serious mauling. Sweat and the taste of
      whatever material those pants were made of, Johnny just beneath it all.

      So--bare. Bobby sat up, lazily unfastening the leather he still wore,
      feeling Johnny's eyes on him. Reached down, scratching a hand over his own
      stomach, pushing the zipper down with two fingers and taking a breath at
      the raw flare of lust. And--

      --and the room was getting really, *really* hot, and a glance at the
      fireplace was revelatory.

      "Put it out, Johnny, or we're gonna burn down."

      "My--control's better than that." Johnny sucked in a breath and the fire
      slid back down to embers and Bobby sucked a kiss into the inside of his
      thigh. "Bobby--fuck, teasing. You always tease."

      "You always like it."

      So open. Laying there just naked and there was more mistrust in this room
      than there was melting snow, but never with sex, not with them. Even to
      the end that still brought Bobby awake at night and avoiding the reach of
      dawn beneath his blankets like the kid he thought he shouldn't be anymore.
      Depressing if Bobby wasn't a mutant, hadn't grown up knowing that it was
      normal. He and the Professor, late at night. Glass of wine, and they
      didn't talk.

      Just sharing the knowing. And maybe the missing, too.

      Made him harder. He'd wanted more than that, and a long time ago, he had
      more. Well, fuck that. Reality was just a clever spin job anyway. So was
      happiness, come to think of it.

      "You like everything," Bobby muttered, pulling Johnny over his thighs. Ass
      into his lap, shutting his eyes for a moment. Cock red and hot, so hot he
      could feel it with his hand hovering inches away, ghosting his fingers over
      it. Johnny stiffened, arching, and Bobby wasn't sure if it was the
      almost-touch or the words, didn't much care. Slow, careful drop of his
      head, keeping Johnny's eyes in his, locked together, closing his lips over
      the head. Salty-sweet taste, achingly familiar, sucking briefly before
      lifting his head. "Like that?"

      "Bastard." His voice shook. "You know--"

      Bobby grinned, ducking his head and licking the wet head, easy to go down,
      all at once, little trick that got Johnny off faster than anything, and
      man, the first time he'd done it, Johnny'd come before he'd even had a
      chance to enjoy it. Closed his hands over Johnny's hips, fingering the
      line of the scar, the hard bone protruding through thin skin, running his
      nails over every sensitive inch. Sliding beneath and hearing Johnny's
      groans, twisting up into his mouth, not enough leverage to just fuck.


      Bobby grinned, sucking a little, keeping the control. All about control,
      in the end, he couldn't deny it. Fucked his own mouth, eyes closed and
      just enjoying it. Powerful and so hard he pressed a hand onto his cock
      through his pants to keep some sort of control, sucking a breath through
      his nose when he sped up his rhythm, and Johnny was going to come and come
      *hard*. Opened his eyes when he felt the tell-tale shiver and jerked his
      own pants down to his knees as he pulled back, closing a cool hand over
      Johnny's cock.

      Johnny yelled something--Bobby's name, select profanity, something
      anatomically impossible and so hot, so damn hot. Twisting in front of him,
      sweat standing up in the dim light all over his body. Beautiful.

      "Gorgeous," Bobby whispered, and Johnny smiled up at him, floating still.
      Hot from the orgasm, relaxed, and Bobby slicked his cock quick and fast,
      pushing two slick fingers inside Johnny. This would work--God it had to,
      it wasn't like he thought to pack a sex emergency kit but that was sooo
      going to be on the list for the next X-meeting, no question. And probably
      only the Professor would know why.

      "Bobby--" Looked up, and the hazy blue eyes were staring into his. Moving
      on his fingers, so tight and spreading his legs wider, pushing up into him.
      Licking his lips. "Miss me?"

      Pulled out--fuck, he was *shaking* now, all over his body, lined up his
      cock. Hot, so hot and tight and pushing, bracing himself over Johnny and
      holding those blue eyes.

      "You left me."

      And thrust *in*.

      Oh God oh God, yes, never anything like this, like Johnny--not just hot but
      *hot*, a little less slick but still okay, still good, still *incredible*,
      opening himself with fists buried in the blanket they'd kicked off. Bobby
      leaned over, muscles flexing all along his body at the feel of Johnny so
      close, licked Johnny's open lips. Held himself carefully over him, getting
      one of Johnny's hands and pinning it beside his head, just staring down.

      "I asked you to come with me," Johnny whispered, fingers tight in his.
      Legs going up and around his waist, heel digging into his back. Moving
      into him with that perfect knowledge that no one else, no one else anywhere
      had *ever* gotten right even by accident. Bobby groaned as Johnny's hand
      slid over his chest, scratching lines into his skin. "I wanted you to.
      You said no and you stayed the fuck with them. You *chose* that."

      "You should have stayed." Pull out, thrust in, even better, and Johnny was
      gorgeous when he moved like that, long body writhing and getting hard again
      between them so fast. It'd been a long time. Too long, but so close.
      "You should have fucking stayed." Pushing his knees harder into the
      mattress, getting better leverage, setting up some kind of rhythm that kept
      this going, so good, so very, very good. His Johnny, like it was only
      yesterday. Ducked his head and bit down into the warm chest, hard, wishing
      he could draw blood. Kissing Johnny fast and hard before leaning back and
      just-- "Mine."

      "God, Bobby...."

      *Fucking* him, ten years and he'd waited and hoped and made himself
      miserable and it was, it'd been too *fucking* long to be fair. It wasn't
      fair, and that just made it hotter. Faster, harder, catching the rhythm he
      needed, heard Johnny moan and say things that didn't mean anything except
      they meant that it was Bobby fucking him. Black light and stars glittering
      in front of his eyes and the fire dancing full and powerful in the
      fireplace and the whole fucking place might go up in flames all around them
      and Bobby didn't give a good damn. Whispered into Johnny's skin, licking
      the sweat.

      "Left me, Johnny. Always you. Always." A hard thrust that made Johnny
      yell and Bobby pushed his elbow farther into the mattress, getting
      leverage. "Just you." Loved, too, and hated him, but that was part of it.
      Not fair, not fair, not *fair*.

      "Yeah, Bobby." Hoarse whisper and Johnny was hard against his stomach.
      Tense and tight around him, so close, both of them, he could hold on just
      long enough, he could--sucked in a breath and blinked sweat from his eyes.
      "Bobby. Please--"

      A blur of feeling--just so hot and so fast and blackout and total,
      wonderful, endless feeling of release and Bobby couldn't stop moving.
      Johnny's fingers tightening on his and Bobby was yelling into the ceiling
      and the snow and the fucking world that he just this second didn't give a
      shit about.

      So good. So, so good.


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      "Now I�m grieving over a doomed love on a show I haven�t seen."
      --Peggy, after reading CLex fic

      "It's not like we're trading blowjobs for chicken nuggets here."
      --Clark, You Get Fries With That, by Caroline
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