10 August 2001
X-Men
Cannonball/Iceman

Disclaimer: If they belonged to us, Sam would have had fewer bad haircuts.

Authors' notes: Iain pointed out that we seem determined to make Sam the slut of the Marvelverse. Alas, it's true. 

Flash
by Janete

Bobby's licking Sam. He's more than a little shocked at himself for doing it.

Definitely shocked, and definitely still doing it. All around Sam's hard belly, too, though his tongue feels drawn to that shallow dip of a navel.

This extra little quiver of delight in his stomach when it makes Sam gasp. And wiggle. Not even something as dignified as a jump, just a squirm of pleasure. Pushing that patch of bare skin against Bobby's mouth.

It's just so sexual. He started this as a game. Wrestling match over the remote that got out of hand. Some tickling, some rolling around on the couch, and when Sam's bare stomach was offered to him like that, he had to lick it. Had to. Had to do it again when it made Sam squeal like a sissy girl.

Sam's t-shirt's pushed up, but it's close enough to brush Bobby's cheek when he burrows in. Aiming for that little, shallow place that Sam apparently loves. Really deliberately not thinking about what he's doing. Paying attention instead to how Sam's skin tastes in the hollows between washboard ripples.

Burrows his tongue into Sam's navel. It's not a deep one, but there's something there. Makes Sam shiver and then groan. Fingers suddenly in Bobby's hair, behind his ears, holding him in place.

And. Sam's hard. Pressed close enough that Bobby can't not feel it.

It's one of those things. Okay so long as the other guy gets hard first. Not that there was much of a time difference there. Really, one erection just begs another, right?

Not that this whole other-guy thing is something Bobby gets up to often. Or, let's face it, ever.

Unless we're talking about fantasies.

Which we're not. Definitely not.

No, not talking at all. Just. Licking. Tasting Sam who. Tastes really good. Feels good against him. Hard in not just the obvious places. Solid and strong and holding onto Bobby, and see, it's okay. Not Bobby's fault.

There was the scream, and the shudder, and the holding, so really, there's nothing Bobby can do but lick.

Nothing at all, nope.

"Bobby..."

And Sam, he's noticing, can sound really. Husky. Breathless. (horny)

Fingers tightening in his hair for a moment before oh no releasing and Bobby has to stop. No excuse any more, has to stop, and he will, just as soon as Sam says his name like that again.

The navel works for that, and those little furrows work, but nothing like the first time Bobby hooks his fingers in the waist of Sam's jeans, tugs down, and lays his mouth open just to the right of Sam's pubic hair. Little shallow place over the bone there, really thin skin. It's hot. Locks his mouth over it, gets it wet, and just for about thirty really fierce seconds, sucks.

Pulling all the blood to the surface. Leaving marks.

"Oh god Bobby..."

And yeah, he promised. So. Lets the skin go, at least. There's a red place that's gonna turn purple in pretty short order. Bruised. (god, hickey)

Looks up at Sam and tries to figure out how, exactly, he's gonna manage to get out of this. With Sam's thigh over his and oh god his hand down the front of Sam's jeans. Not in his underwear or anything, but touching. Rubbing his thumb against skin and hair and pulling little groans out of Sam even now.

Just crouched there, still half bent-over, with Sam's leg holding him down. Sam's naked, wet belly exposed. Sam staring at him.

Somewhere here, he went way, way over a line.

Probably the thing with Sam's jeans. Not really a lot of ways to mistake that one.

He could change. Slide out. Chill Sam, scramble off, then run. Laugh from the doorway.

Except.

This thumb starts rubbing at his eye and ends up touching the edge of his mouth. Sam's eyes are huge. He's still god he's still hard. Bucks when Bobby dips a thumb into his navel.

Groans when Bobby opens his mouth just that much, and really, it could be just to say something, and Sam pushes his thumb inside.

Rubs it over his tongue. Pets his tongue. Like. Like skin or something and Bobby's. Heh. Frozen. Can't do a thing but stare like an idiot with his mouth wide open and his erection pressing into Sam's leg.

And then there's a fingernail pressing down. Not hard, just hard enough to make Bobby try to swallow. Close his mouth around it and.

Well, he's supposed to suck it, right? That's what you do when there's something.

God.

Sucking Sam's thumb hard now, licking it and there's just this hint of salt and it's just everything Bobby needs right now. Has to lick it off, get it all and when Sam pulls it out Bobby moans. Realizes he's been moaning and scrambles back.

Stops because if there's a time to run away it really isn't after you've been sucking another man's thumb but he can't stay either and at first --

Sam's eyes all heavy-lidded. Staring at him with this sleepy-hungry look like Bobby was doing exactly the right thing. Long moments to just fall into that stare and try to swallow his thudding heart back down before Sam shakes it off.

Blinks.

Stops and really looks at him.

"Bobby? You all right?"

"Uh. Um. I ah. I didn't mean..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Ah bet you haven't done this before."

And. Well, jesus.

Sam's done this before?

Which means, really, that Sam knew what the hell this was a long time ago. And he thought Bobby was.

God.

Except, of course, that Bobby was. Licking. Tonguing him. Leaving hickeys and (god) sucking his thumb. Makes him wonder who's seducing who here.

Whether he wants to be seduced.

"Bobby? Hey." Hand on his arm. "Hey. C'mere."

Pulls him forward. He's strong. And Sam really isn't a kid anymore. As much a grown-up as any of them, and more so than Bobby, apparently. Pulls him in and rubs that still-wet thumb along the line of Bobby's neck for a second.

Leans in and kisses him.

Apparently he wants to be seduced, at least if it involves Sam kissing him like this. It's just this easy, friendly kiss for the first couple of seconds. Just lips, a little bit open. Hand behind Bobby's head, telling him to relax. The thumb reaching around to the side of Bobby's jaw, rubbing and rubbing and it takes Bobby a while to realize that it's coaxing his mouth farther open.

And by then he's wide open, just about drinking Sam's mouth, and it's only then that the tongue comes in. Touching his lips and sliding in to rub against his tongue. Tease his tongue out.

Gets him kissing down into Sam's mouth. Wide and panting and good god when did he end up in Sam's lap? Isn't there some way they could do this without Bobby having to sit on Sam like this?

Rub of a hand against the bulge in Bobby's jeans that's not going away at any great rate. Makes him whimper.

And maybe.

If he could. Spread his legs.

Spreading his legs, yeah, and oh God that feels so good. Sam just. Touching him like this so easily, like it's nothing, like there's nothing wrong with this picture at all.

And suddenly it's very important that he touch Sam. An immoral imperative to get his arms under Sam's and pull him closer. Touch him. Soft cotton over warm skin and now Sam's pulling him closer.

One hand in his hair, other arm around his back and holding him close. Chest to chest and Bobby wants to tell him this is almost everything he wanted, wants to thank him, touch him. Settles for kissing even deeper, sucking on Sam's tongue and when a shift brings their cocks together Bobby has to break the kiss to groan. Buck up against Sam and then do it again because it feels just that good.

"Oh, yeah, Bobby, that's..."

Sam trails off, kisses the side of Bobby's jaw and his hands are moving now. All over his back, pressing and kneading muscle and moving down, down --

"Is this okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm. Yeah, it's. It's okay --"

Hands on his ass and Bobby buries his face against Sam's neck and whimpers, helplessly.

God, that somebody should touch him like this. That somebody should touch him at all. And Sam's not even kneading him. Just touching. Thumbs, god busy thumbs that Sam's got, and no two ways about it. Rubbing at the skin on his back. Just above the waist of his jeans.

Takes him a minute to realize that it's a question. About how far he wants this to go. Sam's being so careful with him. As careful as you can be with a guy you've kissed pretty much into stupidity.

Kiss on his temple, just beside his eye.

"You trust me, Bobby?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Okay, then." And Sam lays them down. Lays down and pulls Bobby down on top of him. Still rubbing his back and holding them together and kissing him as soon as he brings his mouth in range.

And this is okay too. If he just spreads his legs, gets them on either side of Sam's. It feels so good when he pushes down. All that pressure on his cock.

This is really. He wishes somebody'd told him.

Both hands holding Sam's face still. Sam's knees pulling up just that much on either side of him. And he's thrusting in, hard and almost desperate against Sam and Sam's laughing at him, kissing him and rubbing his back and hanging on when he tries to pull away.

And this is serious, but Sam's laughing, moaning and laughing and pushing up into Bobby's thrusts and just very clearly not getting the gravity of this situation.

Christ, sounding like Hank and now is so not the time to be thinking about Hank and all that soft, warm fur and thehot, hard man beneath him and Jesus, Jesus he's gonna come.

Right in his pants, like a. Like some. Oh God, oh God and he can't stop moving. Faster, almost grinding down against Sam and now there's no question of moving away, or stopping.

Not even when Sam grabs his jeans and shoves them down his hips --

"That's better, raght, Bobby?"

Christ, that accent and he's blushing furiously and still trying to thrust, still pushing, now against Sam's fingers as he works on his own fly, can't stop --

"You are damned sexy, you know it?"

-- and Sam finally gets his jeans out of the way, grabs Bobby's ass and yanks him down against him and his brain just shorts out.

Flashes of

hot

skin

cock

and Bobby's coming hard, shouting and jerking and shuddering and finally collapsing.

Just lays there with his mouth buried in Sam's neck and no muscle control at all. Sam under him's still hard, sticky from Bobby coming on him. Laughing softly against him. God, there's somebody else's cock next to his. Warm and hard and god alive, living Sam against him.

Sam kissing his ear. His hair. All along his hairline. Tilting up his face to kiss his closed eyes. Wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him until he shakes himself out.

Tilts his head up and kisses back.

Wiggles a bit, trying to push the jeans farther down his legs, and gets this almost inhuman moan out of Sam. Rubs a little harder and yeah, it's sticky and not quite what he had in mind.

Wants to see it.

Still kissing while he scrambles to the side. Jeans around his thighs are a serious problem, but he hasn't spent all those hours in the Danger Room just to fall off the couch 'cause he's got his pants around his ankles. Gets down and kneels beside Sam. Keeps kissing him. One hand sliding down to touch that cock even before he looks.

It's. It's not like his. Different shape, different angle, different heat and slickness and that's definitely not his moan when the head of it settles into his palm. Bobby rubs his thumb across the slit experimentally and gets a full-body shudder out of Sam. Buck of those hips and a very serious, demanding moan that extends through several syllables and tones.

Bobby breaks off the kiss and finally looks.

Sam's cock in his hand isn't quite what he expected. A bit shorter, a bit thicker. Redder than anything on someone as pale as Sam should be. Big, hard veins standing out on either side, this extra interesting texture as he strokes up and down it. As the hips buck up to follow his hand.

"God Bobby. You are so gorgeous. Want you."

Licks Sam's mouth and gets his tongue sucked on before he can escape. "What?"

"Want your mouth god Bobby I want you mouth Bobby suck me."

Makes him gasp, blush hard. He can feel the blush, the rush of cool air that means his ears are brick red, and this. This really isn't the way it's supposed to go, what with the blushing virgin and the experienced man and it isn't that he's actually thought about that so much as that he's been jerking off to that fantasy for. A really long time.

There's supposed to be more time, a break, a pat-Bobby-on-the-head-and-tell-him-it's-all-right time.

Not this. Man under him, smelling of sweat and lust and begging for Bobby's mouth.

Bobby's wide-open, wet, wet mouth because he's drooling a little, like some village idiot and Sam's cock is so hard, so hot.

Drops of pre-come at the tip.

And didn't this all start with his mouth?

With his tongue, slipping out to. Taste.

Bright and sharp in his mouth, almost spicy, but not really at all, and he has to lick again, just to be sure --

"Bobby..."

Sam's hips arching right off the couch, pushing toward Bobby's mouth like he. Needs it.

And Bobby opens his mouth. Not wide, just enough for Sam to push in, stretch Bobby's mouth open with his cock and Bobby wants to scream, almost wants to cry with it. This incredible weight and stretch of Sam in him. Opening him wide and pushing in and spit leaks out the corners of his mouth, ribbons clear down Sam's shaft and Bobby shudders.

The taste.

Like his own. Like nothing else. He's tasting another man's cock and it's so good it's going to kill him.

Sucking another man's cock. Sam's cock. Teammate, buddy, guy who's making yes sounds and more sounds and holding Bobby's head down.

Not quite pushing, but close. And Bobby lets his cheeks hollow. Sucks hard. No idea what he's doing, no one's done this for him before, nothing but fantasies and Sam's leaking, so he licks, and Sam moaning his name is so scary, so incredible. Does it again, and again. Works up a rhythm of sucking and wild licking and doesn't think, doesn't think at all.

Couldn't pulls his head up if he wanted to. Sam's grip like death on him, hard physical version of that steady BobbyBobbyBobby. Like if they could get the angle right Sam would happily fuck him right down his throat.

This is just licking, though. Licking and sucking and riding the twists of Sam's hips while he begs.

He's hard again. Not desperately, but enough that he's noticing. Cock waking up, pulling towards his belly. Cold from the room and warm from the air between him and Sam, Bobby jerking back when he leans too close and his cock brushes the couch's rough upholstery. His own little noise to add to the ones he's already making around Sam's cock and the loud, tangled mess of Sam's voice.

Sam's hand, closing around him and just gripping for a minute.

His mouth on Sam, Sam's hand on him. They started here. This is where they were going, before he freaked. Before he jerked away and before they established that yes Sam's done this before and no Bobby hasn't. When they were down to just skin and teasing and getting Sam to make those really wonderful noises. When Bobby was figuring out the things that made Sam feel good.

Remembers this one, at least. His thumb dips into the drool beside Sam's cock, rolls enough to get wet, and then dips into Sam's navel. Shallow, yeah, but seriously in there, moving enough that he knows Sam can feel it. Pushing a little until he gets the moan he's looking for.

And then sucking hard, playing with -- fucking -- Sam's navel. He tastes so good. Skin and sweat and pre-come and it's just all so male. No way at all to forget that there's a guy under Bobby's mouth.

That Bobby's sucking him.

And that's, okay, horrifying, but also wonderful. Hard cock wonderful, pumping into Sam's fist and fucking him with his thumb and. Getting fucked. Mouth wide open for it and Sam doesn't need any coaxing at all.

Thrusting up and up, hitting the back of Bobby's throat every few thrusts, and that's gonna be sore but it's also making his eyes roll back in his head. Good. So good and --

"Bobby, oh Bobby can you take it?"

-- only half an idea what Sam's talking about until Sam comes, right in his mouth, thick sticky and hot. Salty. His come and Bobby coughs a little and swallows as much as he can, abruptly just greedy for it. Sucking just the head and getting his free hand wrapped around the base of Sam's cock and milking him.

Squeezing and sucking and pushing and fucking until Sam pushes him off.

Nearly falls off at that but holds on to the couch as the only solid, sane thing in the universe.

Sam still holding him, but loosely now.

Broad, lazy smile on his face that Bobby's never seen before. Has to just stare at it. Lick his tingling lips and shudder at it, at the reason why, at the complete lack of revocability here.

Cocksucker.

Blushes hard again and he's just about to pull away when Sam curls up and wraps his arms around him. Kisses him, tongue deep in Bobby's mouth.

Tasting himself.

Long, long kisses that make Bobby drowsy and horny at the same time. Push-pushing into that loose fist, and not too far from begging.

Staring into Sam's smile and feeling utterly incapable of anything requiring more intellect, than, say, thrusting his hips. Fuckdumb and useless, so of course Sam decides to talk again.

"That was real good, Bobby... but what do you want?"

Manages a small moan, bites it off in his own lip --

"So sexy..."

And Sam's kissing him again, licking his lips and mouthing him. Wet, messy kisses that don't speak of anything but sex and Sam's hand slipping back to play with his balls. Heft them, brush a thumb through the light dusting of hair.

"Want me to suck you?"

There aren't any words left in him when he tries to answer that. Just whimpers and moans and shivers when Sam's thumb brushes back farther to that very thin skin, just reaching back.

Kiss that works his mouth open. God. Second kiss on his forehead when he breaks if off.

Sam looks at him for a minute. Then gets both arms around Bobby's shoulders and hauls him up. Onto the couch and into Sam's lap. Arm around Sam's shoulders and just clinging.

"Shhh. S'a bit much. Ah know. God, you're so fucking sexy."

Which is just about as improbable a thing as anybody's ever said to him, but at the moment it makes all the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. Makes him wiggle deeper into Sam's lap. Get Sam's cock against his thigh. Needs it there, even soft. This guy holding him.

Jerking him off. One pause while Sam brings the hand up to his mouth, lays his tongue against his own palm, licks it until it's just so wet Bobby can't believe it, and gives it back to him. Wrapped around him like he thinks a mouth would wrap around him, and even this is more attention than he's ever had lavished on just him before. Mouthing all over Sam's shoulder and chest while Sam works him.

"So sexy you're so pretty god I wanna fuck you love the sounds you make c'mon Bobby let me hear you cry for me. Feels good?"

Bobby whimpers. Sam's grip's like a wire running from his cock into his belly, pulling hot, electric parts of him loose. Jerking him and jerking him and it feels so good, exactly what it should be. Pulls his hips after it until he's wiggling frantically and only Sam's arm around his shoulders is holding him down.

"Got the most amazing mouth wanna just shove myself down your throat c'mere and kiss me again."

Open wide, just laid totally open, like there isn't anything stopping the sound pouring out of his throat, desperate almost crying sounds that he can't hang onto. Feeling happy and -- sure, why the hell not -- sexy and he wants this.

And Bobby just opens himself to it, lets his head fall back and all the sounds are a little choked now, but that's how he feels. Strangled with pleasure, hands wrapped around Sam's biceps and just holding on while he rides it.

Rough Southern voice telling him it's okay, he likes it, likes his hand on Bobby's hard cock. Hard for him and

"Oh, Bobby..."

Sudden bite to his throat and Bobby's coming hard. Splash of it wet-hot on his belly and he can't even classify the noise he makes.

Jerking to a halt finally and Sam lays them both down on the couch. Moment to wonder about the picture they make, but Bobby's so very much not here. Maybe on the Bliss Planet. Something like that. He can feel this huge, goofy grin on his face.

Feels almost as good as Sam, so warm and solid and half on top of him. Playing with his hair.

Kissing him and grinning at him like a lunatic. Wow. Stupid grin city. Populated in its suburbs by small, oddly non-uniform kisses. Soundtracked by some very serious CNN anchor, because that's apparently what the TV switched to last time the two of them rolled onto the remote. Which is probably lost somewhere in the couch cushions now, and possibly permanently.

Spots their reflection in the momentarily dark screen like something as improbable as the news. Waiting to be revealed.

janete
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