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Fic - Pyro - Some Kind of Boy 13

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  • Tara Ann
    Title: Tell Me Which Way To Go On The Merry-Go-Round (Some Kind of Boy – story 13) author: Tara Ann summary: John and Jill share conversation and explore
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 14, 2005
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      Title: Tell Me Which Way To Go On The Merry-Go-Round (Some Kind of
      Boy – story 13)
      author: Tara Ann
      summary: John and Jill share conversation and explore each other;
      Rogue sees the truth in John. X2
      Rating/warning & pairing: NC-17. Pyro/Jill, Pyro/Rogue
      *Characters do not belong to me except for Jill – she is mine and
      looks like Claire Danes.
      *Lyrics taken from "I Can Learn" and "I Can't Wait" by The White
      **Lyrics taken from "Orgasm" by Porno for Pyros
      ** I've liked Pyro from the first moment I saw him in X2. He's
      complex with confidence and vulnerability. I only hope I give St.
      John Allerdyce the respect and understanding he deserves. He is the
      boy with the soft edges and the palest pout.

      I don't know any lullabys
      I don't know how to make you mine
      but I can learn in lonely days
      long ago I saw lovers put on a show
      well now it's my turn
      no harm will come of this
      one little midnight kiss
      it will not burn
      too many lonely days
      I feel like a throw away
      well now it's my turn
      falling down is no longer around
      feeling sun
      I'm no longer one
      well isn't this fun?*
      I wish this house felt like a home**

      Once upon a time John Allerdyce felt safe in the mansion for
      gifted youngsters, but that was long before Stryker's surprise attack
      and long before he decided to "follow" Magneto.
      He told Professor Xavier he'd come back for a little while
      longer, but he wasn't going to play at the kids' table and he wasn't
      going to become one of the X-Men. He was going to be a writer, but
      the only one who really knew that was Logan.
      Jill pretended to be asleep, but John's incoherent murmuring
      worried her. The sheets beneath her seemed soaked with heat and when
      she touched his arm his skin felt fever sleek.
      "I'm gonna burn them all into the ground," he said, his
      bruised cheek twitching, his mouth grimacing, and his closed eyes
      squeezed more tightly than she'd ever seen.


      Jill looked up when he entered the room. She sat cross-legged on the
      bed, her skirt pulled up over her knees. Spread out in front of her
      were photos she was placing into a scrapbook.
      "Rogue said I should have NC-17 rated pages of you."
      John smiled and said, "They were watching me. Trying to
      figure me out like they think . . ."
      He turned his back to Jill, his voice drifting, and he stared
      at his reflection in the mirror.
      "Do you like it in the danger room?" Jill said.
      "It's okay." He shrugged.
      "It doesn't exhaust you? All the fire play."
      "Nope." His dark eyes gleamed deeply in the mirror, burning
      into the glass.
      "Kurt wants to build some sort of chapael," said Jill. "I
      really like him. He's sweet and kind and he has a tail. I saw him
      fence with it. It's pretty wild to watch."
      "Do you have a little blue crush on him?" said John, his
      voice unusually flat.
      "Yes I do," she said, "but you're my one and only true."
      She looked down at the pictures of John and studied his
      smile. "You should smile more."
      "I smile enough," he said.
      "It tickles my heart when you do. Is that too cornball?'
      "No," he said.
      "John, are you okay?"
      He shrugged.
      "You were crying," she said.
      He looked at her reflection in the mirror.
      "I don't cry," he said.
      "When you were sleeping," said Jill.
      "I swallow them whole," he said.
      "Do you have sad dreams?" she said.
      He turned to her, her face warm and glowing soft, the scar on
      her chin seemed distressed like her blue-hazel eyes.
      John looked at her, his smooth face like grace. "They're
      "I'm glad I know you," said Jill.
      It sounded strange to John Allerdyce; no one had ever
      been "glad" to know him. No one ever told him. Maybe Rogue had said
      it to him once; he couldn't remember. He used to miss her; he no
      longer missed her the way he used to.
      He shrugged, not to her, to himself. His body language was
      often misleading; it was why Jill watched him so closely. Everything
      about him enthralled her curiosity, but she didn't try to finger
      through his complexities. It was enough for her to feel them.
      John clicked open his shark-mouthed lighter, flicked the
      flame, and watched the tiny flame.
      "Do you like it?" he said. "When I play with the fire?"
      "You don't play," she said.
      He smiled; her soul was open and safe to him like the
      gentlest rushing stream.
      "Yes," she said.
      "It excites you," he said, his eyes still on the flame. "It
      excites me."
      "I like watching you," said Jill. "Your eyes tickle me, the
      way you fuck me wicked."
      He closed the lighter with a quick click.
      "I don't fuck you wicked," he said.
      "No, you want to fuck me more wicked. It's okay. I like
      it," said Jill. "I feel your softness."
      "Really? I don't think I do."
      "I feel it black and blue," she said. "Does having sex with
      me make you feel less empty?"
      "No," said John. "I don't really feel empty. I feel
      something . . . else."
      "What kind of something else?"
      His soft cheeks were sleekly solemn, his lushly pouting lips
      just as somber.
      "I don't know. Something unkind, something frightening,
      something not quite right, something overwhelming like love, twisted
      and polluted."
      He could feel the something crawling around him with every
      word he revealed to her.
      "It's not," she said, her voice gentle and giving him hope.
      Everything he ever wanted seemed forever intangible to him,
      until he met her. If she believed it, believed in him, believed in
      them, then maybe everything was going to be fine.
      "What's it feel like?" he said. "The tickle I give you?"
      "It never seems to leave," she said, her voice a small
      sigh. "Lingering like some pleasant little memory."
      "Should I say sorry?"
      She smiled. "No, I don't think so."
      Jill pulled out his blue spiraled notebook from under her
      scrapbook; her slender fingers tracing the metal spiral. "Do you
      believe in real love?"
      He watched the light from the flame whisper into her skin.
      "I remember I used to," he said.
      "Did someone break your heart?" Jill said, still not looking
      at him. She crawled over her pictures and went to him. She stroked
      his cheek. He watched her fingers creep under his shirt, rubbing his
      skin affectionately. Her eyes stared at his navel and she circled
      her fingers around it.
      "No," John said. "That's what's missing, I think."
      "Are you in love with me or do you love me?" Jill said.
      He leaned close to her and kissed her lips in a tender sweep,
      his eyelids barely closed. Little by little his lips became more
      ravenous, his hand gliding up her thigh and grabbing her ass. She
      took off her pink camisole top, her small breasts pretty in an orange
      lace bra. The flame intertwined itself around her wrists and he
      grabbed her hips, setting her on the dresser, placing his lighter
      beside her. She leaned her head against the mirror and let him raise
      her arms above her head. When he let go she could feel the flame
      ribbon tightening around her wrists.
      "How do you do that?" she said.
      "Do what?" he said, his finger stroking her inner thigh.
      "Don't let it burn me," she said.
      John pushed her dirty-blonde cascading hair behind her
      shoulders and kissed the scar on her chin; she leaned her head
      forward to catch his lips and once caught he didn't play coy.
      "I don't know," he said, his voice quietly infatuated with
      her, the honey jasmine scent of her hair and her jasmine milk skin.
      His hands squeezed her breasts and he pet her through her
      panties. He liked to feel her warmth creep through the cotton and
      into his hand. When he looked into her eyes she didn't have to
      speak. He pulled her simple red panties off her long legs and kissed
      her left ankle. She embraced her legs around him, her calves rubbing
      against his sexy cute bottom, and he slipped his hand under her
      skirt, his fingers touching her center lightly. He didn't look at
      her when he took off her skirt, letting it fall by his feet. Jill
      spread her legs wide enough where she was comfortable and waited.
      John stared down at her, the shadow on his cheeks tender and
      "I can feel you when you don't touch me," she said.
      "Yeah," he said, his fingers bent slightly, tracing up and
      down her slit more for his pleasure than for hers.
      His voice whispered into her ear. "My favorite word is
      "In the entire dictionary?"
      "Clitoris and candy," he said. He caressed her cheek with
      his lips. "I like the way it sounds. Clit is a cheap version of the
      John kissed her, his eyes closed and fingered her like he flicked his
      lighter – with compulsive devotion.
      "Say it to me again."
      "Clitoris," he said. "It's a beautifully sculpted word.
      Every syllable perfect." John pulled her hair gently and kissed her
      neck. "I'm gonna suck on it until you're numb."
      Jill was silently throbbing for him, the heat between her legs
      longing to be touched in some way. His hands held her thighs.
      "I want to see your shoulders," she said.
      He took off his shirt and smiled for her. His fingers were
      careful and kind. He liked looking at her; in his eyes the female
      body just seemed to be the right shape and it could bend in different
      ways. He wanted her to want to be touched. John licked his lips,
      then he licked his fingertip and began to massage the little
      rosebud. When his tongue tickled her, he didn't linger long enough.
      Jill wanted to protest, but she liked to be teased. They could
      perfectly tease each other into the tiniest of untouched tears.
      John stood up, his eyes dark and beautiful, and he unzipped his
      pants, pulling out his erection.
      "Touch it once," she said. "Please."
      He smiled slightly and glided his hand down himself and over the
      head; he glanced at his reflection in the mirror and for one moment
      he didn't recognize himself. John rubbed the tip of his penis up and
      down her pretty ripeness. Their thoughts were completely different.
      He didn't want to put on the condom; she wanted to watch him
      masturbate. Instead she contented herself with watching him put on
      the skin; John Allerdyce loathed condoms like uncomfortable silences.
      When he was inside her she concentrated on feeling him. Jill
      wished she cold fuck him the way he fucked her. He slid two fingers
      inside her, wet and natural, and he massaged her some more. The
      lower half of her body shuddered in slices with his touch and her
      legs tensed with the heightening sensation. He started rubbing her
      faster and she seemed to enjoy it. He slowed down and suddenly
      stopped. Jill shifted her cunt towards him, wanting to squeeze her
      legs together, but letting him hold them apart. The blissful nerves
      in her body were screaming.
      When they weren't making love she thought of him inside her. The
      thought of him, of his penis, fitting perfectly inside her cunt made
      her feel safe. His eyes were closed with every deepening thrust and
      she wanted to kiss his eyelids. John opened his eyes and stared into
      himself, the glass in front of him darkening like some magical forest
      in a twisted fairytale.
      The fire around her wrists vanished and she pushed him off
      her. He stumbled backwards, ready to protest, his confusion and
      slight irritation muted. Jill scooted herself off the dresser and
      shoved him on to the bed. She took his hand, her slender fingers
      interlacing with his, and he was inside her again.
      "Hey," he said softly, looking up into her beautiful face.
      "Hey you," she said and kissed him.
      She pushed her hair behind her ear. "You broke your
      "Maybe I wanted to," he said.
      Jill bit his lower lip gently and he watched her rock herself
      on him. Then he closed his eyes tight and she came before he did.
      She liked to watch his face when he climaxed – sometimes his eyes
      were open, sometimes his eyes were closed. The smoothness of his
      face seemed hidden, vulnerable, and strangely innocent.
      The tiniest meow was heard and Jill saw John's orange kitten
      Blazie sitting in the corner, licking her little paws.


      Rogue was hungry and she knew she wanted to eat something. Salty
      potato chips sounded good; she opened the bag and dumped some into a
      yellow bowl. She was going to return to her room, but she heard the
      familiar clicking sound of John's lighter. Still holding the plastic
      bowl she peered over the counter and saw him sitting on the kitchen
      "What'cha doin' down there?" she said.
      He looked up at her, the flame burning, and closed the lid.
      "Nothing really," he said.
      "Hiding maybe," said Rogue, the sparkle in her brown eyes
      gentle. "Jubilee wants to have sex with you."
      "So what."
      "She's liked you for the longest time," said Rogue.
      "That's her mistake," said John.
      Rogue shrugged. "Whatever you want to tell yourself."
      "I don't have to tell myself anything," John said, flicking his shark-
      mouthed lighter.
      "Some people say you flick that lighter more than you flick
      He smiled faintly. "Very forward, Marie. Not forward
      enough. I used to wonder if you would slap me if I kissed you the
      tiny quickest kiss."
      John peered around the corner of the counter and observed her
      incredibly short pajama shorts. Then he returned to his hiding place.
      "Someone's gonna die tonight," he said.
      "What's it like to have sex with a girl when you know it's
      her first time?"
      "I didn't know it was Jill's first time."
      "You think of her more than you think of me," said
      Rogue. "I've lost my favorite boy toy."
      John half-laughed.
      "That's what happens when you don't take what you want."
      "You never really asked," she said.
      "I didn't have the chance."
      "It's good," said Rogue. "You deserve to be loved. Even if
      you don't think you do."
      John closed his lighter. She started to lick the salt off
      the potato chip.
      "I didn't think I was anyone's favorite anything," said John.
      "What was it like when you had sex for the first time?"
      He rested his head against the cabinet door.
      "What makes you say the things you do, Rogue Marie?"
      "Easy silly. I can't ask Bobby and if I did he wouldn't
      answer me the same way."
      "The little couple that couldn't," said John with a
      smile. "Don't let him fool you. He'd lick you clean if he could."
      "Wouldn't you, if you could?"
      "Tell me. Please."
      "It was . . . just wrong," he said. "It doesn't matter. You
      think about sex all the time, don't you?"
      "Of course I do, dummy. I think about it more than you.
      More than Bobby. More than you both."
      She nodded, pushing her long brunette hair behind her
      shoulder. "Yes I do. What do you do when you're with them and
      "I play chess with him. It's utterly dull yet I understand
      why he likes it. It stimulates the mind." He looked at her and
      said, "I won't let him hurt you. I'll kill him." Then he
      paused. "Now you have more time to flirt with Remy. He's older than
      you. Bored with Bobblehead so soon?"
      John smiled to himself but his voice conveyed practiced
      indifference. Then he stood up and rested his arms on the counter,
      watching her eat her after midnight snack.
      "You're too pretty not to be touched."
      "So are you," said Rogue.
      "Have you ever had an orgasm?"
      "I think I have," she said, licking the salt off her
      fingers. "Does Jill?"
      John seemed slightly startled. Then he shrugged. "I think
      she does. I hope she feels something."
      "Do you?"
      "Have orgasms?" He smiled.
      "Feel something."
      His amused smile faded, his dark eyes staring at Rogue. "I
      feel something."
      "Something like love?" she said. "I read one of your
      stories. Do you always write about love? Do you ever write smutty
      "The world is smutty enough," said John. "Don't you think?"
      "I don't know," Rogue said, her Southern accent faint. "I
      remember everything. When I touched you."
      "I wish I could make you forget."
      "No you don't. You're not really the bad boy.
      His face was smooth, his eyes sleek like obsidian.
      "Yes I am," he said. "I'm whatever I want to be."
      Rogue picked up the plastic bowl and said, "No you're not."


      Jill smiled when he came into the room, her glowing body
      wrapped warmly in the blankets.
      "Take off your clothes," she said.
      "Why? You wanna do it again?" said John.
      "I could," she said. "I like to see you naked."
      "I don't like being naked."
      "It's not that frightening," Jill said. "If you're not
      connected to your own body you can't be connected to someone else's.
      I love being naked."
      Jill lay on her stomach, her slender arm dangling over the
      bed. She was naked except for the sheet tangled around her body and
      the orange thigh-high fishnet stockings. She casually pointed to the
      dresser and John saw a little Russ troll with red hair.
      "I know no one likes those things these days," she said, "but
      I still do and it made me think of you. It made me think of flame.
      You don't have to like it."
      He looked at it standing next to the blue glass vase of
      orange carnations she gave to him two days earlier.
      "I think I feel sexy knowing that you want to fuck me," said
      Jill. "I think you used to think I was too pretty to be touched.
      Maybe I think that about you sometimes, but I need to touch you."
      John watched her legs swinging back and forth, her dirty
      blonde hair cascading over her bare shoulders – her heartbeat like
      quiet embers; he could feel it when he was close to her. He sat on
      the bed and slid his hand under the sheets and over her thigh.
      "Thanks," he said. "I like it. I like touching you."
      "Some people think they're ugly," she said. "Do you?"
      "The little wacky trolls? No."
      "I like their butts. They're so potent. I like your butt.
      My sister saw you. She said she likes you even if you have a penis."
      "That's good, I guess."
      Jill turned over on her back and looked at John.
      "Tell me something you've noticed about me," she said, her
      lips pale and pink.
      "I notice lots of things," said John. "The freckle on your
      left breast. It's all by itself. The perfect little freckle on
      perfect skin."
      "My little spitfire," she said. Jill took his hand; he let
      his shark-mouthed lighter rest on her stomach. She played with his
      fingers and smiled.
      "Your eyes," she said. "They're not as dark as they seem.
      They seem like a very bright brown and grey. How do you get them to
      look so black?"
      He shrugged. "I have no fucking idea."
      His voice was calm like drying salt.
      "I've always envisioned my wedding full of tiger lilies. Dozens and
      dozens of tiger lilies everywhere. In my hair, in my hands, on the
      ground . . ."
      "You think of getting married?"
      "No," said Jill. "I like tiger lilies and I want to eat
      cake. The thought of anyone's wedding is quite dreadful. How do you
      envision your life, young John Allerdyce?"
      "I don't know. Writing I guess."
      "Not here? Not with the X-Men?"
      "Why would I want them?"
      She shrugged. "I guess you don't."
      John pulled the other blanket over him and snuggled next to Jill.
      "Jill and John slid down the hill," she said. "Your mother
      named you John so you'd have no complexity in your life . . . do you
      think I'm complex? My name is Jill. Do you have a middle name?
      Like mine – Jillian Ann, sometimes it sounds kind of pretty posh to
      "St. John," he said. "I never use it. Maybe when I get
      something published with expensive champagne."
      "I like cheap champagne," said Jill. "Or maybe champagne
      tastes the same to me. St. John Allerdyce. Hmmm . . . will you let
      me call you St. John?'
      "I don't know."
      "Maybe," John said.
      "Your mother was very religious?"
      "She liked the idea of religion," he said. "Something to
      believe in. My dad took it more seriously than my mom did. She
      liked Mary."
      "When I was twenty I wanted to have a baby. It was all I
      wanted. I pictured myself pregnant in the mirror, I rubbed my
      stomach and I could really feel what it was like to have a baby
      growing inside me. I wanted it so much. I stared at baby clothes
      and baby shoes and little baby socks, `I love my Mommy' bottles
      and `Mommy Loves Me' bibs . . . I decided that would be my purpose.
      I wanted something to love and something to love me. I knew it would
      be the greatest love I could ever know and I believed it would never
      happen to me. That all I wold ever have is the fantasy. It made me
      "You still want to have a baby?"
      "It's selfish of me because I don't want to share my baby. I want it
      to be mine and only mine."
      "It would be yours," he said.
      "I know he would be mine, but I would still have to share him with
      the world," said Jill. "I want to keep him."
      John held her quietly. Then he said, "I'm never going to have
      children. I can't."
      "Motherhood is love," said Jill. "It's the purest romance a woman
      can have – complete, simple, and real."
      She turned in his arms, facing him. "You say you can't. You're just
      being unselfish. You don't like being told what to do. You
      shouldn't let them make you believe you shouldn't have kids, you
      don't want them to win."
      "They won't," said John.
      "I don't think about being pregnant," said Jill. "Not really. I
      just stopped, sort of. Like I stopped playing the cello."
      "This is going to sound kind of possessive," said John. "I want you
      to be mine and only mine."
      "I know," Jill said. "I want you to be mine and only mine."
      "Then I am," he said. "From now and tomorrow."
      "Good. Very good."
      He looked into her blue-hazel eyes and touched the scar on her chin.
      "Maybe I should have caught you," he said.
      "You didn't know."
      She reached for the small bottle of shimmering pale orange nail
      polish and began to paint her nails.
      "What's your favorite fairytale?"
      John watched her concentrate on the tiny brush.
      "Hmm, Hansel and Gretal, I guess," said John, stretching his arms
      above his head and glancing up towards the ceiling. "I like the
      candy house. I love jellybeans. I like the way they curve."
      "I've always liked Rapunzel," said Jill. "Did you ever see Fairy
      Tale Theater with Shelly Duvall? She played Rapunzel and Jeff
      Bridges was her prince and he was so sexy in these brown leather
      swashbuckling boots."
      "I was in love with Michelle Pieffer in Batman Returns," said John.
      Jill smiled. "Catwoman. The shiny black outfit? Tight and
      "More like blonde and kind of crazy."
      "'Life's a bitch and now so am I?' So you like crazy chicks?"
      "I just thought she was . . . intriguing," said John. He shrugged,
      stroking his fingers through Jill's dirty blonde hair.
      "'I'm a woman and can't be taken for granted,'" Jill said.
      "I wish I could let myself take you for granted."
      "What do you mean?"
      "I wish I could enjoy you, us, the way you make me feel without
      thinking of how it's going to end," he said.
      Jill stared down at her nails.
      "I wish you could, too," she said. "You like me because you think
      I'm unflawed, but I have flaws you don't want to see. Do you delight
      in self-sabotage?"
      "No, only sabotage."
      "Why do you think it's so inevitable? Is it because I'm not a mutant
      or you think there's not enough room for you to get everything you
      want and taste it, too?"
      "Candy is best when it's free," said John.
      "Depends on the candy," Jill said, throwing the nail polish bottle on
      the floor. "You make me think of dirty things, John. I've always
      thought of dirty things, but you make me really like them."
      He smiled slightly and moaned with piqued interest.
      "I think I'd let you do anything you wanted with me."
      "Sometimes I think about doing dirty things to you," said John,
      closing his eyes.
      Jill watched him closely, silently counting each eyelash; she
      listened to his breathing.
      "What kind of dirty things?"
      "You calm me, you intoxicate me, you enrage me," John said. "Your
      voice is soothing and seductive. I've never felt so confused."
      "'It's gonna be a hot time on the cold town tonight,'" she said. "Do
      you believe in unconditional love?"
      "I think I do," said John.
      "It exists. It's beautiful."
      She kissed his cheek. "It's the most romantic thing in the world."
      John sighed quietly. "I can't wait `till I get out of this place."
      "Do you really want to leave for good?"
      "Not every mutant has to join them."
      "Are you going to work for Magneto?"
      "I am going to be a writer," said John with devoted confidence. "I
      hope you'll be my starlet muse."
      "I don't know if I can give you the type of inspiration you need."
      "You give me more than you'll ever know. All I ask is that you live
      up to my high expectations."
      "I think you want too much of me," said Jill, her voice daintily
      John Allerdyce lost himself in the fire, he lost himself in Jill, but
      he also found himself in her. In some alternate universe where
      everything was truly good he wouldn't want to burn everything up and
      he could see himself married – to her, maybe even with kids. He'd
      never confess it, but he'd save it for a dysfunctional happy ending
      novel. Jill slid her hand under his navy blue pajama pants and held
      him in her hand.
      "Jill, what was it like for you? The first time we had sex? Were
      you nervous?"
      She smiled slyly. "Very nervous. It was what I decided, though, so
      I had to hide it."
      "If you had told me I could have–"
      "Could have what? You wouldn't have done it with me? Guys are
      scared of virgins."
      Her smile was pink and glowing, bright and quirky.
      "Not true," John said, shaking his head.
      "I could hold on to you like this forever and never let go," said
      John smiled faintly. "You make me feel like it's not really mine."
      "It's not. It's mine now."
      "Did you come?"
      Jill wrinkled her nose like some pretty porcelain doll ready to crack
      on the outside. "I don't think I know how to come," she said. "I
      just like to be fucked. It contents me in other ways."
      "It feels good sometimes, for you?"
      "Yes. I think I do come sometimes. I know I did tonight."
      "What about the first time?"
      "The first time. You like that it was you, don't you?"
      His eyes glistened and he nodded, "Yeah."
      He was young; his erection in her hand was eager, warm, and easy.
      "I thought about you when you left. It didn't hurt too badly. I
      never thought I'd see you or your penis again. Having sex didn't
      make me feel grown up like I thought it would."
      "No. Me neither. It's just what people do."
      "People in love?"
      "Love, lust."
      "Carnal possession," said Jill. "My best friend Rosemary preferred
      circumcised to not. She said it was like playing with a water snake."
      "Water snake?"
      "Those rubber things filled with water." She shrugged.
      "You're comparing me to a water snake?"
      "You're quite incomparable," Jill said.
      "So are you."
      "Every word is double-sided." She sighed. "Rosemary had an
      abortion. I cried. She didn't. It just made me sad."
      "Where is she?"
      "In Vermont. We used to play Indiana Jones. She was Indy. I was
      the girl. I like to be the bad girl . . . Tell me a story.
      Something smutty and romantic."
      "Hmm, smutty and romantic," John said, his voice edged and
      sleek. "Are you going to hold on to my dick the entire time?"
      "I prefer 'prick.' Yes."
      He smiled. "The Little Match Girl revised. She stood in front of
      the flower shop in her dirty-rose colored shawl, her tiny fingertips
      frozen to pearlesque bone when a gentleman tipped his hat to her and
      said, `I'll trade you six pence for your pretty little clitoris,
      young Miss.' The little match girl replied, `I don't think I could
      give up my clitty sir since I am quite fond of frigging myself. It
      is the only way I can keep warm during such an unforgivably harsh
      "The young gentleman-"
      "Young and devil handsome gentleman," Jill offered.
      John nodded. "The young and devil handsome gentleman laughed,
      clearly smitten with her honesty and beauty and corrected himself, `I
      only wish for the quickest peek. I wouldn't dare to keep such a
      precious little thing in my pocket.' Now it was her turn to smile
      brazenly and he followed her to the deserted doorway where she lifted
      up her skirts for him.
      "The view was more than he could hope for and when he tried to kiss
      her she politely pulled away. `Please do not kiss my lips unless you
      mean it,' she said. `Every match I light I will think of you,' he
      said and gave her the six pence.
      "The next day the little match girl burned herself to death and the
      young gentleman wished forever that she had let him kiss her."
      "That was sweet," said Jill. "She's probably frigging herself in
      heaven. Would you want to watch me pleasure myself?"
      John closed his eyes, the warmth from her hand the perfect prison.
      "It's what I do. Watch the world and go unnoticed."
      "I noticed you," said Jill. "People do notice you, John."
      "Yeah, you noticed me."
      Positive or negative, John Allerdyce didn't mind what he was noticed
      for as long he was heard and seen and remembered; he didn't like to
      be ignored.
      "Magneto noticed you."
      "His mistake," John said.
      When Jill let go of him he was slightly disappointed. She sat up and
      nudged his shoulder.
      "I really do want you to be mine and only mine," she said.
      His dark eyes looked up into her knowing and innocent face.
      "Do you want me to tattoo your name over my heart or something?"
      "Never," said Jill. "I want to get a tattoo, though. One day . . .
      and I want to be the Mayor of Halloween Town."
      "Jill," he said. "You make me feel it less."
      "Feel what less?"
      "Whatever it is that's inside me."
      "What do you think is inside you?"
      "Something bad maybe."
      "I don't think it's bad. It's just naughty. Sometimes very naughty."
      She pet his shoulder.
      "Sometimes you make me feel it more."
      "You're going to do great things John Allerdyce."
      "What if I don't?"
      "You will."
      "You're worth fighting for," he said. "I didn't think I could find
      anything worth fighting for in this life, just myself."
      "You don't have to fight for me."
      "I really want to," he said.
      She kissed him and bit his shoulder gently.
      "Does that include showing off in The Danger Room?"
      "You've already impressed me," she said.
      John smiled faintly; he couldn't ignore the tender tension between
      his thighs.
      "Are we gonna do something else?"
      "Maybe," said Jill. "I thought if I waited long enough you would do
      it yourself."
      "I guess I like it better when you do it. I guess I'm used to
      feeling discontent. It's kind of comforting – twisted and ticking."
      "Don't get too comfortable. It will devour you."
      John hesitated, watching her, and said, "Why do you like me?"
      "I like complexity," said Jill. "I like deep things. I like your
      eyes and the way they reveal everything about you with secret
      glimmer. Your eyes fool many people. They're like an x-ray into
      your heart. Do you ever feel like your soul is being burned and
      buried alive? I used to feel like that, like it couldn't breathe. I
      just wanted to plunge red-handheld scissors into my heart. Now
      sometimes I can't even remember what it really felt like. I only
      remember it really hurt."
      "I think I would sell my soul for you," said John.
      "How devilish," Jill said. "My pretty Pyro. You're a very good
      kisser. I tell my sister, but she only likes to kiss girls so she
      doesn't really listen."
      Glancing over her shoulder Jill smiled and pulled her short slip
      dress over her head. Her nipples were hard beneath the tender silk;
      John wanted to rub his fingers over them. He often encouraged Bobby
      to engage the "cold nipple trick" and Bobby never hesitated long
      enough; if he ever pulled it on Jill though John knew he would break
      the other boy's fingers.
      "My first kiss was in the stairwell in high school," said Jill. "I
      don't know why I let him kiss me. I didn't even know him. My heart
      was beating really fast. I really thought he was going to rape me or
      "Mine was in junior high. One of those crazy spin the bottle games
      or six minutes in the kinky closet. I told my Mom. I don't know why
      I told her. I said, `This girl kissed me. Does this mean I have to
      like her?' She couldn't tell if it was disdain or disinterest. She
      just told me not to be the baby blue heartbreaker."
      "So where did you learn how to kiss?"
      "The movies." John smiled.
      "Your first time?"
      "It was when I ran away from home, right before I went to Xavier's.
      It just sort of happened. I used to wish it didn't. Once you do it
      you you can't really pretend you didn't."
      "Have you ever paid for sex?"
      "No," said John. "I know someone who has."
      Jill stood up and went to the mirror.
      "Do you want to pretend I'm a prostitute?"
      "Why would I want to do that?" John said.
      "So you could fuck me harder."
      "I don't fuck you hard enough?"
      He watched her brush her hair with two indifferent strokes.
      "You could whisper dirty things to me," she said, watching his
      reflection in the mirror.
      "I don't want to whisper them," he said, sliding his hand under the
      pillow. He stared at the perfect paleness of her thighs and imagined
      fucking her right there from behind; he knew she would let him.
      John picked up his shark-mouthed lighter and began to flick it, metal
      and flame, flame and metal, flame . . . metal click . . . flame . . .
      Jill put the silver brush down and turned to him.
      "I know you want to do more than just conventional fornication," said
      He laughed. "'Conventional fornication?' It sounds like the name of
      some rock band or something. I think this is the longest I've ever
      been hard."
      She wasn't smiling and the scar on her chin seemed determined.
      "What do you mean, babe?"
      "The Duke and his chateau sex parties. The woman he falls in love
      with. I like the stories you tell me every night and I know you like
      them, too. What good is mindflesh if it's left discontented? Get on
      your knees for me. I'm not going to say please."
      He looked at her and didn't move. Then John stood up on the bed on
      his knees, the blanket wrapped around him, the lighter still clicking
      and flicking.
      "What are you going to do to me little Miss?"
      The smile on his face flirted quietly; the playful glimmer in his
      voice and eyes was more obvious than usual.
      "You truly are endearing," she said and went to him, blowing out the
      flame and taking the blanket away from him. Then she took off his
      "What if I get cold?"
      "You don't get cold."
      "Yes I do," he said.
      "I'll keep you warm. I promise."
      He dropped his lighter behind him on the bed spread. Jill kissed his
      cheek and pulled his pajama pants to his knees. "Spread your legs as
      wide as you can." Her blue-hazel eyes sparkled fiercely.
      "You're gonna make me blush," he said, his voice purring.
      "I'd really like to see you blush," said Jill.
      He did what she told him to do and she nudged her knuckles against
      his scrotum. Then she kissed his balls and said, "One day I'm really
      gonna pinch you pretty and wicked."
      "Jill? Could you touch me more or suck me off?"
      She shook her head. "No."
      Her hand reached between his legs, picking up his shark-mouthed
      lighter. He thought he would protest, but he didn't. He watched her
      light a blue candle.
      "Don't be scared," she said.
      John observed the tiny flame and smiled. "I'm definitely not scared."
      "No, I guess you wouldn't be," said Jill.
      She held the candle between his thighs, beneath him, careful not to
      hold it in the same spot for too long.
      His lips pouted wicked for her like cherry tart candy. John closed
      his eyes, concentrating on the relentless warmth.
      Her cheek rubbed against his and she said, "I want to play the games
      in your stories. I want to be the woman you fall in love with, I
      want you to spank my cunny, I want the diamond clitoris clip, I want
      to be tickled by you. I want to be pricked with a needle and be
      pinched pink and pretty. I want you to do everything to me. I
      wouldn't let you if I didn't trust you."
      Jill blew out the candle and squeezed his balls. He shuddered in her
      She interlaced her slender fingers with his and kissed him long,
      letting him love her any way he wanted to, hoping he wouldn't hide
      himself from her.


      met a girl who'd never had an orgasm
      she had to know, got curious
      what it was like enough to trust me**

      The next afternoon John found Jill sitting in the half-built chapel
      Nightcrawler and Logan were working on. She was shivering through
      her borrowed jacket with the blue "X" on the left shoulder.
      "Did you eat lunch?" said John, sitting beside her.
      "This is going to be really beautiful when it's done."
      "I guess."
      She turned to him and said, "I think Bobby was trying to hit on me.
      I think he was. I'm not certain."
      "He can't have you," said John.
      Jill pushed the loose strands of her cascading dirty blonde hair
      behind her ear.
      "I don't want him," she said.
      "I was sitting in class and I couldn't stop thinking about
      what you did to me last night."
      Jill smiled, her cheeks dandelion pink. "I wasn't sure I was
      doing it right. I talked to Jean and Storm."
      John's dark eyes glistened at her. "I didn't know I could
      feel that. No one ever touched me there like that before."
      "It was very intriguing," said Jill. "My pretty Pyro."
      "My little match girl."
      "I'm beginning to feel less and less like the girl," she said. "I'm
      John took off his brown leather jacket and put it around Jill's
      "Thanks babe," she said.
      He observed the faintly fading red marks circling her slender wrists.
      Jill promised him, "I can take all the flesh burns you can give me."
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