|
17
April 2001
X-Men Cable/Cannonball Sequel to Wild Things II: Off Through Night and Day In which Sam wants to be where someone loves him best of all. Disclaimers: If they belonged to us, Sam wouldn't sound quite so much like Scarlett O'Hara. Though he might occasionally do kicky things with curtains. Authors'
notes:
Title and summary, yet again, from Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things
Are. Jane shamelessly strongarmed Te into this one, but she
makes no apologies.
Wild Things III:
Te: *cackling* It's that bubble butt, isn't it? Jane: It is. But also the accent and the curly hair and the long, long legs. Te: Long legs can make a girl Think Thoughts, it's true. Mmmmm ... Jane: Especially legs that are actually long enough to wrap around a body the size of Nathan's. I actually like Nathan/Domino, but she's so dwarfed beside him. Sam, though. Sam can kneel in Nathan's lap and reach to kiss him and just fold up those legs under him. Te: Oh, he can, he can, and Nathan likes the feel of him there, body to body. Vague guilt about cold metal against the boy's skin, but in truth Sam seems to take it in stride, even with this new . . . intimacy. When he realized it was going to be more than just the single night between them, he had to offer his body up to Sam's scrutiny. Let him look closely at what he was getting, though he's seen it before, and already knows far too many of its aging and sometimes aching secrets. Gentle and oddly comfortable like this now, early afternoon light pooling around them and their shirts thrown over the bedroom chair. On the bed with their pants still on and their boots kicked off beside it, not even kissing. And Nathan's barely even touching. Just letting Sam explore him. And even now that Sam's crawled into his lap, it's still Sam's show. His fingers that crawl over Nathan's body and stroke, rough edges tracing the curve of metal and flesh. Strange minutes when Sam looks at him, blue eye to blue eye, and Nathan gets the sense that he's looking for the boy Nathan was when he was Sam's age. He considers telling Sam that he wouldn't like him. The boy Sam's looking for was angry and rough-edged and almost unbearably awkward, crawling out of adolescence with all the grace of a fish in the desert. Sam squirms in his lap. The legs on either side of him pull in a little, gripping, and Nathan's fully aware that he's being teased. He knows he's hard and Sam knows he's hard, and Sam's own body isn't keeping any secrets at this angle. So. A tease for them both. Some kind of oddly welcome test, perhaps. Of desire, of control ... Nathan ups the ante a little, shifting until they're cock to cock through their clothes, watching Sam bite his lip ... but he doesn't break the stare, either. Moving now, Sam with better leverage but Nathan has the strength to use his own position, pushing and moving. Slow and ruthless. Less to himself than Sam, moving his hips to make sure Sam can't quite thrust against the best spots, as Sam is doing the same. Strategy is called for, and Nathan lets himself sink closer to a meditative state, focusing on the boy's eyes. Wide blue, pupils starting to blow. Keeping his thoughts away from the fact that he's the one causing the obvious arousal, that all he needs to do is lose the unspoken bet to make the boy ... scream. And they haven't gotten around to facing that yet, not even close. Nate's bike was missing by the time they got back from their swim, his room emptied of everything that wasn't there when he arrived. Relief there, and more than a little guilt. Dubious refuge to know that he wasn't the one Nate had needed to talk to, anyway. Soft gasp from Sam pulling him back into the now. Humor in his eyes and the sweet twist of his mouth. The gasp was half-meant, half-calculated. Sam opens his mouth while Nathan watches, showing the edges of even white teeth, hallucinatory flash of a pink tongue. Amateurish, but effective, and Nathan responds in kind. Narrowing his eyes and shifting his thrust to something a little harder on both of them, mouth held in a firm, hard line. Sam's moan is heartfelt this time. Nathan leans back enough that when Sam follows him, keeping the chest contact, his hips are closer to Nathan's waist. So that Nathan's next very deliberate thrust rubs against the soft curve of his balls inside his shorts and just teases at Sam's new awareness of his ass. The boy trembles against him but keeps steady. Strokes Nathan's shoulder lightly, as if he were still exploring, and curls rough fingers around the back of his neck. Nathan's impressed. There's just an edge of threat in the gesture, not pursued, but Sam's made him aware that he's vulnerable. The kiss that follows is almost brutally intense. Sam crushes their lips together, holds Nathan's head to keep him close and pulls him in. Pulls him upright so that Sam slides back down to Nathan's lap and they're cock to cock, tight and hard and pressing. Nathan takes over, eventually. Cradles Sam's head and tilts it and dives in, changing the power balance without breaking the kiss off. Making it clear that whatever he's learned, he can do this well enough to make Sam tremble. And he does. Shakes and grips and finally lifts up just a little and thrusts urgently and repeatedly against Nathan's body. Nothing in that gesture but youth and desperation, and a little surrender. Openly wanting. Nathan isn't quite ready to let this end, though. The kiss is his territory, but he's holding his own body steady. While Sam slowly gives up any pretense at indifference and pushes against him, begging. Finds Sam's hand with one of his and brings both to the front of Sam's shorts. Wonderful tan of the khaki against the gold of Sam's skin, and part of Nathan would love to be naked under him, feel the difference between cloth and skin on the legs folded against his hips. Just holds Sam there, though, while Sam tries not to thrust too obviously into his own palm. He cues Sam's fingers to unzip the shorts, eventually, and helps Sam peel them back. Startling slide of a wet cock on his belly, after, as Sam presses closer against him. Not even thrusting, just rubbing back and forth and getting a feel for the difference between flesh and techno-organics on the thin skin. It's Sam who breaks the kiss off. He pushes his face past Nathan's and rubs a barely-stubbled cheek against Nathan's jaw. And holds there, kissing up along the hairline, while Nathan slides his hands down Sam's naked back and into the shorts now hanging loose where hip and wide-spread leg offer a catching angle. Cups the boy's ass for a minute and massages. Holds him still the next time he goes to thrust. Catches a leg once Sam's steady and lifts a little. Helps him get loose from the too-big shorts, then slides them off the other leg and holds Sam while he settles again. Bright, fine hairs make soft hisses where they rub against Nathan's jeans. Sam's naked and rubbing insistently now, leaving cool, wet trails across Nathan's abdomen, kissing back towards his mouth. Nathan accepts the kiss when it comes, even opens his mouth to it. Half-lost in the slide of Sam against him, the gentleness of this foreplay almost too much. Completely lost to it, he supposes, because when Sam breaks their mouths apart next time, he pulls back far enough to hiss, "Damn it, Nathan. You want me or not?" As though it were really a question, and he's aware that he has self-control in all the wrong areas but he forgets sometimes how obvious it is. He curls his fingers around Sam's ass and pulls, spreading him. Pushes Sam down at the same time that his own hips thrust up, so that they meet with Nathan's still-clothed cock pressing against the boy's anus. Wide blue eyes that almost vanish under the pupil's black for a moment, then flare back into colour when Nathan whispers, "Yes," against Sam's mouth and bends him back and kisses him as deep and hard as he can. Something to remember here, a lesson in how to be human in this now. Sam, here, like this, is not a subordinate to be worked and dominated, no matter how much the thought appeals. No matter how instinctive the motions and gestures are. Sam is his lover now, the young man desperate enough to strip naked and straddle his thighs, grind and thrust and demand Nathan's attention with everything he has. Nathan teases out a connection, impulsively, and lets Sam see everything he's thinking about this, every doubt and yes, his own helplessness to the body bent and straining in his arms. Wide blue eyes and the impression of innocence that Sam doesn't bother to scoff at. Only trust, and pure, blazing need. Supporting him now in this arch as Nathan buries his face in Sam's throat and mauls him, leaving marks to bruise and scream at the dinner table tonight, invite and silence questions at once. Awkward angle and Sam slips a little, throws his arms back and supports his upper body on his palms, legs still locked around Nathan and it's obscene. The position, Nathan's reaction, the taking of pitiless advantage . . . "Ahh -- God! Nathan ..." At the tight coins of his nipples, pink-brown and spiked for him, for lips and tongue and teeth as Nathan wraps one arm around the boy's upper back and helps support the position, free hand tugging at the burnt golden hair at Sam's groin, palming and stroking his balls roughly. Blunt nails scraping at the inside of Sam's thigh, up the arch of Sam's cock as he mouths the boy's chest and sends I want you, I want you again and again, waiting for the internal oaths and imprecations to degenerate to that broken keening sound he needs, somewhere deep where Nathan doesn't want to look. Only then does he lift Sam back to his lap, awkwardly undoing his jeans and freeing himself for this. Shoves three fingers into the boy's open mouth -- "Get 'em wet." Sam's stretched mouth and fluttering lashes, eyes starting to roll back in his head, limbs loose and pliant in his arms yes. Spit and sweat and pre-come, cursory preparation. Lifts Sam up and spits him on his cock, pull and thrust at once, that scream, that one, and Nathan wraps the boy in a bear hug, trapping his cock between them as they fuck. Just like that, off the side of the bed and graceless, grace only in the way Sam shapes his hands to Nathan's face and forces him to meet his gaze, half-blind and dazed, but intent, screwing himself down on Nathan, ruthless with them both. Tight and hot and too much friction, not enough, Nathan growling as he takes the boy's mouth with the same violence, slick cock between them pressing and pressing at his belly, wetting the hair there and making it all stick and move, body lost to this. Hands on Sam's hips driving him faster, harder, so fucking deep and sharing it all, this savagery, this unmeant and incredible claiming. Fingers slipping over to tease at where they join, press and rub at the cleft, at the tight hole Nathan wants to stretch out of all proportion until he throws them back further on the bed, painful grunt, but Sam's sobbing moans don't pause so much as hitch. They're connected now and Nathan realizes Sam can't loose himself without using his power, that the boy knows this and surrenders anyway. Straddled above him, curls lank and sweaty, hiding his face as Nathan fucks him. Frees one hand to curl around that beautiful cock, stripping pulls and rough squeezes, something like what Nathan's getting from the boy's ass, taking from the boy. Screaming whimper about control and consequences but none of it matters. He needs this. Needs the boy to know this about him and come for him anyway. And he does, clenching hard and ragged around Nathan, milking out Nathan's orgasm with a ragged yell. Sam doesn't slide off him immediately. Hard, slim body heaving against him, pushing closer and wrapping both arms around Nathan's neck and holding on. Nuzzling his ear and jaw. This time Nathan's the one shaking. He didn't expect. Hadn't realized how completely wrung out he's let himself get, physically and emotionally, but he's walked out of wars in better shape than this. Holds Sam against him and tries to pull himself in from this rawness to something the boy might possibly recognize as him. Sam shifts his arms back and draws Nathan's head around to his. Kisses him, slow and deep and more startlingly adult than he's used to Sam being. The blue in his eyes reasserting itself serious and vivid. "Hey." Just that, but Sam's mind is warm and welcoming against his shields. It opens when Nathan brushes against its surface. The gold, steadiness of Sam inside. Warm and intensely loving and something underneath the innocence that suggests that Sam might still be a good person when he's been in the field another decade. Lingering guilt for Nate Grey that he hasn't dealt with yet but knows he needs to. Sam pulls back and kisses him. Separateness of their consciousnesses startling for a moment before Nathan can pull himself together and kiss back. In his lap, Sam's still impaled on him, squirming slightly as Nathan softens. Nathan thinks about dragging the boy into the shower with him. All jokes about rusting aside, he's never gotten over the luxury of bathing in fresh water. The desert of his childhood hugely distant from the lush, aquatic world of Sam's. They've already been swimming, but the lake was huge and Sam swims like a long-bodied water animal, fast and distant. The idea of the boy pressed against him in a contained space of water and steam . . . He flinches and pulls himself together and finds Sam sucking at the base of his throat, carefully attentive to the flesh and blood-vessels and the shape of the mark he's leaving. Doesn't release and only moans softly when Nathan pulls out of him, and bucks softly at the stroke of Nathan's fingers that replaces his cock. A little push of Sam's knees tells him he's supposed to lie back, and he does. Lets Sam crawl all over him, licking and kissing, a little careful of his movements but still bucking his hips any time Nathan strokes over his asshole or fondles him. Wonderful intimacy of it, even without the faintest hope that he could get it up again. This luxury. Kissing gently with his hands resting at Sam's waist and Sam on his hands and knees above him when Sam's stomach rumbles. Nathan laughs in spite of himself and catches the heat of Sam's blush on his skin. He's lost the whole day somewhere; the remaining light's hitting the floor at a long slant, and Sam hasn't eaten since early morning. Nathan pushes Sam towards his feet and half-sits up. "Go shower. I'll be right behind you." Stays half-lying while Sam gets down off him and collects his clothes from the floor. Nathan's clothes, if they're honest, but Sam's claimed them in some essential way, and the drape of khaki and white cotton on his rangy body is undeniably sexy. He takes a couple of minutes to get up, and a couple more to strip his jeans the rest of the way off and find something decent to replace them. Tries to remember the last time he was so desperate for sex that he didn't manage to get fully undressed first. Looks a little ruefully at the semen-stains and general mess on the denim before burying them under yesterday's clothes in the hamper. When he gets to the bathroom, Sam's already gone, just steam and drops of water all over the tile standing as evidence that he was there at all. Nathan showers with the efficiency he learned from cleaning himself up after desert battles. Starkly clean in a matter of short minutes. Takes a little longer after that to arch into the hot water and enjoy the warmth. Gets out and gets dressed, throws his wet towels and the ones Sam left behind into the wash. Sam's waiting for him in the hall. Down towards the end, by the stairs, with the window-bank illuminating him. He pulls up from his lean when he sees Nathan and turns to face him. He's been back to his room at some point. Found a belt that actually belongs to him to cinch the shorts around his hips with. Found underwear, Nathan hopes. Pulled on an undershirt. Brushed his hair. But the dress shirt around his shoulders is definitely Nathan's, and the white lines of it and the wifebeater tank top leave his collarbone and chest starkly visible. Highlighting the bruises and hickeys and bite-marks that trace his body from jaw to navel. Barefoot on the hardwood. Brilliantly gold. Sam flashes Nathan a puffy-lipped grin and scoots down the stairs, fast enough that Nathan can't catch him without breaking into an obvious run. Towards various cooking-smells and the horde of people currently mustering in the kitchen. Obvious and happy and demanding that Nathan come after him. A man-shaped celebration of victory, the spoils following on his heels. janete go on go back |