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31
August 2001
Ultimate X-Men Bobby/Hank Disclaimers: If they belonged to us... well, it's possible they'd be grateful. Or, you know, traumatized. Warning: Underage sex continues. Authors'
Note: Um.
It's not our fault?
Handbasket 2: Resolved
He's going to end this. He can't convince himself it's not been properly (and thoroughly) begun, but he can damned well nip it in the bud. He's nineteen. Bobby's... not. He's not even going to admit in his mind how old Bobby is, but that's the point, he doesn't have to. Because it's over. Very clearly and definitely over. So when he walks out from behind the couch, which is behind a cluster of dusty lamps, which are in turn behind carefully unmoved study chairs, and an armoire, and a door, and walks downstairs from the East attic, the non-Ororo one, and unlocks the door, it's with a straight spine and a firm chin. He can do this. He does not need anything even remotely resembling a -- good Christ -- relationship with a mumbledy year old kid, not even when said kid smells vaguely of vanilla, sweat, and pure, raw sex. Especially not when said kid announced not six hours previously that, since he iced up, he didn't need a uniform. Especially not when said kid has developed, over the course of the day, a particular smile just for Hank which is both knowing and. Dammit, he's read Lolita. He's better than this. Smarter. All the tests said so. So. Almost to Bobby's room and he's hardly sweating at all. Perhaps a touch a perspiration. More properly a glow. Hands steady. Eyes stern. He knocks twice, and opens the door to find the room... very empty. Hank does not acknowledge his relief. Undoubtedly Bobby will show up for food, and they can just have it out then. In the meantime, he can bury himself in something soothing, calming. Physics. Perhaps biochemistry. No, too lurid at the moment. Definitely physics. And so he makes his way back to his room with something like a smile in his heart, opens the door, steps in, and manfully doesn't run like a girl at the sight of Bobby, bareass naked on his bed, and apparently doing math homework. Little wiggle when he comes in. He's never sure whether it's deliberate. There's something so casual about Bobby's nakedness. Though he wonders what exactly would make him believe that it is deliberate. Lying in just a t-shirt under the lawn sprinkler, maybe. One foot up, big sunglasses on, reading a soggy book. See, there's no water here. Bobby arches. Pushes the book away and lays back down with his head on his arms, looking at Hank from over his elbow. Little wicked smile. Gets up and walks toward him. Little hand on his arm. "Bobby..." "Hey. I wondered where you were." "You can't..." "Can you help me with this? Please?" Pointing at the math book like it's the only important thing in the room. Like he's been sitting at the table with all sorts of perfectly decent clothes on, waiting for Hank to come explain quadratic equations to him. Pulls him by the hand over to the bed and bounces on it a couple of times. Pulls the book up to rest against his crossed legs. Innocent and insistent and damn him for an idiot because he sits down too. Because whatever else is true, getting Bobby to learn is one of the highest powers of this fucked-up excuse for a school. Only one of them who's truly school-aged, and he's free-range in a way that has to frustrate the professor. Hard to chase greased lightning from a wheelchair. Nothing like Storm, who does her own thing, or Piotr, who ploughs through engineering books with dogged determination and the art books like they're porn or something. Or Jean, who studies the way the Professor studies, that way that makes your hair stand up. Or Scott, who's on a secret and very obvious quest to know everything. Nothing like him. Just this occasional determination to learn, always mixed up in other things and places they shouldn't go. Bobby leaning against him while he sketches out solutions on the looseleaf. Almost in Hank's lap by the time he straightens. On him and kissing him before he can pull his brain out of the necessary abstraction. Little tongue in his mouth and oh yes, naked. He really is just the nakedest boy. Second where he forgets. Where his arms close around the nakedness he's presented with and he kisses back. Groan out, "Bobby...," against that mouth. To which his helpful/unhelpful brain supplies, Bob, plain Bob in the morning, standing five-foot-six in one sock. Rob in slacks. Robbie at school. Robert on the dotted line. In my arms, he was always Bobby. And Bobby giggles at him. Giggles. Which is enough to yank him back onto the slim, thorny path of righteousness, despite the way Bobby's licking him. These tiny, teasing flicks all over his mouth and Hank grabs him and moves him away, thanking God for the fact that his arms are long enough to move Bobby out of fondling range. For the moment. There is. Wriggling. Creamy-skinned, naked wriggling and yes, Bobby is certainly already quite happy to see him and, "Bobby." He stills. "Yeah?" "We can't do this." "Aww, c'mon, I'll finish my homework later. There's something I wanna try." Bright, happy grin. Is this poleaxed? This could very well be poleaxed. "No, no, I mean, we shouldn't be having sex." "Hey, we already covered that, Hank, move with the times!" Move with the. Something he wants to try. Hank squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. "Bobby, you're fifteen!" There he said it. Now would be a good time to run. "Yeah. Heh. Still growing." Definitely, clearly, a good time to run like the very devils of hell -- stops a moment. Checks for horns. None visible, but.... No. "I'm serious! Prison! And! Things of that nature!" Oh, God, he's doomed. "I said I wouldn't tell..." A pout that may even be real. He doubts it, but the possibility is there. "I thought you liked me." "Liked you. Liked you? Is this what you do with all your friends?" "If I can get away with it." Flurry of wriggling, but Hank remains. Firm. Jesus. More pouting. "Haaaaank..." "Oh, God, you're going to whine?" "Don't you whine when you're horny and not getting any?" "No! I don't whine. I never whine." "Never?" "Never." Bobby narrows his eyes. Wriggles fully out of Hank's grip only to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Grins at him. Shows him his small, uncallused hand. Slowly, slowly pulls the hand back toward his own body and... no. He wouldn't. He. Really, really would. Wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking. Continues to stare Hank down until his eyelids start to droop and Hank isn't looking down. He's not. Just focussed on those blue eyes. Shoulder flex at the corner of his vision but he's not looking. Blue eyes getting darker as he watches, which should be... exactly as illegal as the past few days have been, actually. Slide of a thumb across the head, which is enough to get a gasp out of Bobby, but it's obviously for Hank. Little reminder of how that tight skin feels. What it tastes like. The little noises that Bobby makes when Hank rubs there. Tiny enough that the only way to hear them is lay an ear to his chest. And. Wow, he's stronger than he thinks. Turns away. Doesn't manage to actually walk away. Not in terms of leaving. But he's not looking anymore. Walks over to the window instead. Looks out it at the very clean, very well-kept Westchester world they're currently living in. In the middle of a what looks like a very exclusive school. Just a few students, private tutoring. Good families, becoming tomorrow's leaders and all that. It's usually at slightly larger schools than this one that somebody ends up being the class whore. It makes him flinch. It's not true. Not really. There's something very private about this version of Bobby. It hasn't been offered to Scott or Piotr, or at least he doesn't think so. And he's pretty damn sure it's not what he gives the girls. It's more flattering than he wants it to be. His Bobby. "hank..." God, just that tiny whisper's enough to make him twist around. Bobby right there, with his knees apart, hand on his cock, hand on his balls, staring at him. The sleepiest, most desperately wanting version of come-fuck-me that he's ever seen. Watches while Bobby rolls backward and lays down. Invisible face, just bent knees and hands and cock still visible from Hank's angle. Just that little bit more when Bobby really deliberately works his legs farther apart. And words just... die. Somewhere back in his throat so that he has to swallow. Has to watch. Bobby all laid out. No face, just those hands moving and moving. Twisting little strokes, faster than Hank wants them to be but he refuses to tell him to go slower. No chance whatsoever to delude himself that he's not... affected. That he's not trying to drill a hole in his fucking pants. Jesus, Bobby jerking off in front of him. For him. To him. Scent of him making the room small, close. Like he could open his mouth and just taste him from here. Lean leg muscles straining and the sounds. Gasps and whimpers letting him know that no matter how this started, Bobby couldn't stop now if he tried. Silences that make Hank hold his breath. Until he's walking over. Can't even feel his legs, but walking anyway. Has to get closer. Crawls up on the bed and crouches over Bobby, staring into his face. Something... not fear, but something dark just the same in Bobby's eyes, not lifting even when Hank joins him. And when did it become such a fact that Bobby should cheer up whenever Hank chooses to grace him with his presence? Too much to think about, already just... worried. Aching a little inside because it's just wrong somehow to have an upset Bobby. Strange and gorgeous and desperately arousing that Bobby should be so obviously upset even while jerking off. Wonders what he sees in Hank's face. Inhales him deeply -- "ohgod" Leans him and sets his teeth at the base of Bobby's throat -- "Hank --" -- and bites down hard. Wet sudden heat between them and Hank moves quickly, swallowing Bobby's yell and then just kissing him. Listening to him try to pant through his nose before breaking off to let him gasp and lie there. Wide, wide blue eyes and Bobby's barely blinking. Just staring at Hank like. Like he expects him to disappear in a minute. Oh, shit. Lots of things he could say here. Lots of things he really should say, but part of him's just a little pissed off. Heh. Which would explain what Bobby saw in his face. God, and all he wants to do is pin him down and fuck him hard. See his face while he does it and Hank kisses him instead. Long, slow. Easy, even though he doesn't have it in him to be gentle at the moment. "I'm your friend, Bobby. I'm not gonna disappear." Slow nod and Bobby holding on to him. Clinging a little and Hank wants to move off a little bit, try to hold off a little more of his weight, but Bobby just moves with him. Arms around his neck. Leg around the back of his thigh. Which lays a lot of Bobbyflesh against him. Soft little mouth on his neck. And just at the moment, Hank's fairly sure it isn't a performance. Just Bobby hanging on. So. More kissing. Little hips angled for him to thrust against. Once or twice that they've done this, that he's pinned Bobby down and ridden him. Rubbing against him frantically, getting the feel of that cock against his own. Little legs around his hips right before he comes. Little legs already around his hips now, and he's thinking that he seriously wants to be naked. Fingers tangled in his hair, and Bobby whispers, "You could fuck me. You know, if you want to." Enough to knock him back into his brain. "Bobby..." Bobby wiggles against him. Gets his hips up. Finds Hank's hand and brings it down between them. Doesn't let go until it's touching his hole. "God, Bobby." He could push in. Find something slick, throw those little legs over his shoulders, and take him right here. Listen to those sounds that he's only ever made when Hank's had a finger up him. Pushes his mind hard back to responsible adultness and the fact that he's supposed to stop this exactly so Bobby won't whore for him. Forces himself to move his hand after long, long moments of just feeling him. How hot Bobby is there compared to the rest of him. Rests his hand on Bobby waist and pushes him back a bit, just enough to look him in the face. "Bobby, I don't --" "You want to, I know you do. I know you wouldn't hurt me." "No, I. Okay, bald honesty, fine. I want to fuck you, and I want to do it hard --" Shudder he can feel through his palms and his cock twitches in answer. "But I don't want to do it until you want me to, Bobby, okay? We're friends, right?" "Yeah..." "And I'd still want to be your friend even if you told me that the sex had to end." Staring into those blue, blue eyes and it's that one particular feeling. When you've said what you've had to say and it still feels like you're approaching a cliff and a dead run, or maybe already run right off the fucking thing. "Hey, no one else will even touch the Playstation, and that's just wrong." Little smile. "'kay." Opens his arms and Bobby snuggles up, right on cue. "I still get the sex, right?" "Bobby --" "The hot, raunchy, sweaty sex?" "Bobby --" Loud snickering against his neck. Hot breath just reminding him that he's still hard, and wanting Bobby, and clearly he's being subjected to a diabolic experiment in operant conditioning. Childish laughter? Erection. He can never walk past a playground again. People are going to start clutching their children to them when he passes. Or, well, they already do that, but still. Hard to explain that it's just Bobby. Soft little body against his. Little foot rubbing the back of his leg. Mouth on his throat, licking and kissing. And, "Shhh. I won't leave you, it's okay." Rubbing the flesh that's offered to him. Push on his chest that drives his heart right down. Feels way too much like rejection, right until Bobby clambers on top of him and grins down. Gets those little hands down between them and starts working on getting Hank's pants off. He has to grind his teeth not to howl when Bobby's hand slips inside and grips him. Jerks up and down once before even pulling him out, rides the twist of his hips with a little laugh. Working his pants down. Off. Once they're around his knees he can more or less kick them away. Still left in his shirt and socks and there's something grossly undignified about it, but it's hard to argue with both of Bobby's hands wrapped around his cock. Rub of a soft thigh against him. Blue, blue eyes when he looks. Bobby's mouth stretched over his cockhead. He's too hard for this. Wants to touch and can't reach and he's not going to have a choice in a second if Bobby keeps doing that. All of the willpower he has to lift him off. "Turn around." "mmmm?" "Turn around. Lay on your stomach for me?" Moan that he can't swallow when Bobby rubs a hand over the still-wet end of him. But he does it. Rolls onto his belly with his head towards Hank's feet, and actually manages to stay there for a minute before he's staring over his shoulders. If he's going to do this -- god he's hard this isn't the time but he wants to. Kisses Bobby's back. Both sides, down the spine. The cheeks of that little ass being offered to him, hard enough to leave mouth-shaped bruises. Spreads the insides of Bobby's thighs and kisses him there, too. Spreads them farther and gets his first real look at what Bobby's offered him. Little, little hole. Amazing that he's gotten a finger in there. Wants to do it again. Wants to just... touch Bobby. All over. And he does, running his hands over coolish skin, warming Bobby while he pushes up against Hank's hands. Understands on some level the need to soothe him, soothe them both. Takes things down a notch before. Well, what he wants to do. Not something he's even considered, really, after figuring that it would feel very, very good, but Bobby... Yes, he wants to make Bobby moan, and gasp, and all those other little wonderful sounds. Wants to pleasure him, to get down deep into his permanent memories as someone associated with making him come screaming. But he also just wants. Warm, quasi-sweet smelling boy. Downy soft skin and lean, hard muscle beneath. Spreads Bobby wide and kisses him there. Softly at first, riding out the little bucks, the little things that don't sound enough like 'no' to make him stop. Then slips his tongue out, only meaning to lick him there a little, at first, but he slips right in and Bobby... Oh, Bobby sounds wonderful. Long, low, hoarse cry that just breaks something inside Hank, trailing to whimpering gasps when he grabs Bobby's hips and tongues him very, very seriously. Spelling out the names of complex chemical compounds when inspiration fails him, or just thrusting and thrusting, long after his tongue is feeling numb and Bobby's hips are slick beneath his palms. Wants to fuck him, wants to be just so deep inside Bobby. Wants to. Tongues him furiously for long, long moments, trying to pour out some of the need, but Bobby is starting to sound desperate and it's hazing out Hank's mind. Finally just needing to growl with it, pull back and bite one round cheek hard enough to make Bobby yelp. Flip him over just to see how flushed he is, how hard. God, beautiful, beautiful Bobby and Hank knows full well he's addicted. Wanting so badly and having it right there. Offering, inviting seduction every time he turns around. "oh ohh Hank that felt so good..." Flips him over again and Bobby's reading his mind, or Bobby's just being Bobby because he gets right up on his knees. Pushes back toward him. "You can, you can, I want you to Hank oh fuck I'm so hard --" Shucks his own shirt, if only so he can feel Bobby against his chest, and bends over him. Big enough to actually cover him, knees behind Bobby's, arms over his shoulders. And it won't quite work that way, but just the contact makes Bobby gasp. Kisses him once on the back of the neck, then drops into a lower crouch. Brings his cock up between Bobby's very slick thighs and lets it slide over the soft little balls hanging down, and then up beside Bobby's erection. "haaaaaaaaaaaaaank..." Kisses his back. "oh god you're big." Kisses him again. Pulls back just a bit and settles his cock between sweat- and spit-slick thighs and spreads his own knees. Gets his hands on the outside of Bobby's legs and pushes in. "Hank?" "Put them together." Takes a minute to convince him, but he does it. Puts his thighs together, trapping Hank between them. Squeezing them together once he gets the idea. "Can you hold them there?" "Yeah." So. Pulls himself back and thrusts. Fuck yes. So good. Tight and slick and Bobby-smelling, little gasp of pleasure from Bobby as it rubs him, and this wasn't actually for him, but anything that makes Bobby happy is hard to argue with. Thrusts again, feels Bobby's legs tense and tighten around him, god so tight and nothing like as tight as Bobby's ass is going to be, but easier on both of them today, when he's strung-out and desperate and just wants to fuck hard. Hard into him, hands clamped on Bobby's hips, big enough to almost cover them and holding him still. Slamming into him, hard enough to make himself growl. Hard enough to make Bobby whimper, tense, hump back against him. Whispers of, "god Hank want you to fuck me like this you're gonna fuck me aren't you? put it in me and take me just like this god you're so big you felt so good with your tongue in me wanna give you everything." "Oh, God --" Changing his angle just enough to fuck up against Bobby's cock on most strokes. Knows it's not good enough but he has to come. Has to fuck has to, trying not to leave fingerprint bruises, trying not to hurt him, and Bobby so wild beneath him. Somehow keeping those thighs so sweet and tight for him while bucking and shifting for position, speaking words Hank's mind just reels at, gasping and pleading and -- "Bobby --" -- coming in hard little spurts, hips jerking almost spasmodically and holding on tight. Finally peeling his hands off Bobby so he can brace himself, so he can avoid crushing the poor kid -- "oh oh you came on me, Hank, you came all over my cock!" Like it's the most amazing thing in the world, like Hank could've done any differently. "Roll over, Bobby." "yeah yes anything oh please touch me --" Wraps his fist around Bobby's slick and wonderfully messy cock and pumps fast, ruthless. Bobby's hands on his, not guiding him so much as riding the rhythm, fingers twitching and Bobby's eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is wide, wide open, and he comes just like that, moaning something that might be Hank's name. Finally just laying there, tangled in each other. Too wiped to move into a more comfortable position. Bobby curled a little away from him and gasping. Telling Hank how good it was, how good it made him feel. Almost babbling it out, like it's something he desperately needs to make Hank understand, and... Something like clarity, at least a moment of it. Bobby needs him. It feels. Terrifying and good. Terrifyingly good. Makes him feel stronger, somehow. Older and tougher, and, okay, maybe that much sexier. Never gonna get the sound of Bobby begging Hank to fuck him out of his head. Beautiful boy. God, yes. Wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. janete go on go back |