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13 June 2001 (posted 12 March
2002)
X-Men Cannonball/Nate Grey In which Nate commits himself to the wild rumpus. Disclaimer: If they belonged to me, Nate wouldn't have ended his own series still a virgin. Author's Note:
Mirror to Where the Wild Things Are
Wild Things 1.5:
He almost didn't stay. There are too many people in the house, and even with the adults gone, being in a crowd this size is like standing close to a television tuned to an empty channel. Static and white noise. And while he did stay, for whatever reason, he definitely isn't going outside. He can just read, or meditate, or sleep, and not deal with anyone at all. But somebody dark and smokey and disturbing comes and stands outside his door and just thinks at him until he opened it. She offers him pizza. Latte-skinned, dark-eyed girl who decided at some point to be much, much older than Nate. Slide of a long leg shimmering through the slit in her skirt. "If you decide you want to stop sulking and come out, we're on the patio," Monet says. And leaves him there, sleepy and still trying to work his t-shirt around properly. He thinks about going down. Eventually walks up to the roof, instead, barefoot, eating the pizza Monet gave him, and watches. Mostly swimming, some late sunbathers, though in half an hour there isn't going to be any light at all. Playing, which isn't something he can ever quite understand. Not just that it's not part of his experience, though it isn't, but the level of violence inherent in the X-children's play bothers him. He keeps thinking someone's going to drown. He can't even see who it is who gets up on the edge of the pool, peels off his -- and it's obviously his, he just can't tell whose -- suit. Hurls it into the trees and stands there, shimmering naked and pale. Pause and stillness and he can feel everyone thinking about it. And then this explosion of joy. Naked, slick bodies in the new darkness. Playing, swimming, a little gentler than before, a little more intent on touching. Laughing. Nate just crouches there and watches, lets everyone's feelings wash over him, until someone spots him. Crackle of that person's focus, and then everyone else's. He feels a bit like a voyeur, and he'd like to run, but the teasing's getting to him. Is he going to just sit there and perv, or is he coming down? He jumps. He loves the cracked shock that runs through everyone before they remember he can fly. Free-falls ten feet just to scare the shit out of them. Lands crouched, with everyone watching him, and stays like for a few seconds. Then stands and peels. T-shirt over his head in a long stretch, jeans off as smoothly as he can. Telekinesis helps. Skins his underwear off with the jeans and pauses for a just a second, bent over, feeling everyone's eyes scraping him. Then straightens and stares back at them. Moment of his best big-eyed-waif look before the feeling cracks and they go back to looking at each other, and he can just slide into the crowd. Darker and darker, and there's this low, solid hum of lust running through everyone. Water slick on him the one time he dives in. Touches the bottom and curls up close, stretches out and surfaces, climbs back onto the deck, and someone licks him. It takes him a second to understand. Only gets it then because some soft, female voice whispers in his ear, "You're It." Makes him shiver. And then he has to pull himself back together, and slide towards people until there's someone unsuspecting enough that he can pass 'It' on. Snaps sideways, moving with the slightly charmed step that means not so much that people don't see him as that they don't see him. Slides up behind Monet and licks across her arm, bolts into the mass of people before she turns. He spots Sam Guthrie with people clinging to his arms, stripping him down. There are people at the edges of this who still have their clothes on, but Sam's shortly not going to be one of them. Shorts flying into the dark, and he's just there, still confused and very pale-bright in the dark. Monet comes past him and licks. Flash of wanting from her, something between a child's infatuation and an oddly adult desire. Some shading of Paige's-brother on him, but also tall-blond-body-older-X-man. All of which she swallows fast. Not going to admit that, he thinks, even to herself. And it's not really important. To him or anybody else. He could float on the happiness in this mass of people for hours. Feed off it. Feels so good. Hardly paying attention at all by the time another tongue slides over him. It's a shock, this flare of individual thoughts and touch cutting through the groupness of it. Mouth on him, and only after that can he feel hands on his arms. And Sam Guthrie's startled blue eyes peering back at him, something between shock and. Something. And lets him go. Something Nate doesn't think about, or anyway not hard, until later, when someone kills the house lights and he's left navigating by telepathy and touch. Stumbling and reaching and behind him two people collide and hold. Kiss. Laugh. Stroke each other's hair and break apart. Strike of belly against his chest. Someone hugely tall, very male, soft and welcoming thoughts, and he accepts the mouth that comes down and rests on his. Tongue against his lips, pushing in, all the way into his mouth before he can focus on. Sam. Guthrie. Cannonball. Wunderkind, the first one to climb up to the X-Men from X-Force. Radiating innocence and softness like no one should be able to. Beautiful and older and everyone likes him, how could they not? Kissing. With Sam's hands on either side of his face, tilting his head back and just locking onto him. And sex isn't new, but this is. Soft and wet in his mouth, startling for a second and then just good. Glittering golden Sam-radiance sliding through his head and warm hands on his face and that mouth pushing his open. Hands eventually sliding down onto his back, stroking him. Warm and close and lust and affection everywhere. Pushing inside his shields and there really is no way he can not do this. Feels so good. Sam's mouth on his, Sam's hands on him, Sam's thigh between his legs, rubbing against him. Just this edge of a whisper, not even aloud. Please Petting him and kissing him and Sam's hands slide down, cup his ass for a second. Stroke down the thigh that he's somehow hooked around Sam's to keep the man against him. And then lifts him. Hands hooked around Nate's thighs, just barely strong enough for this. But Nate thinks he could help. Easy, not even a strain on his power, not even something he has to concentrate on. Just lifts and pulls Sam closer. Close enough that they can kiss without Sam bending down. His arms around Sam's neck, his legs around Sam's waist. Sam's arms holding him up and balancing them enough to be able to thrust against his ass. And that feels good, but it isn't what he wants. Not exactly. And if he can manage it without letting go ... Long shift of his body, still kissing Sam. Sucking on his tongue and his lips and loving the tongue in his mouth, like Sam could suck his heart out by kissing him like this. His mouth raw from the stubble-scrape, and when he pulls back, someday, some eventually a long time from now, he's going to look like meat. Doesn't care. Wants Sam against his belly. Gets it. Hard cock against his. Both of them naked. Sam holding him. The whole universe this mess of lust and love and energy. People vaguely in the out-there, watching them. Wanting. Wanting Sam to fuck him, somehow. Any possible way. And somehow they're still just kissing, rubbing and twisting together. Trapped flesh between them hot and edging towards something that'll make him scream. Flash of absolute wanting from Sam and a hard rub of flesh and body hair against his cock and Nate can't hold onto it anymore. Comes yelling, drags Sam with him. Channels all the pleasure in his body over to Sam, hangs on tight and twists with it. Won't let go of his mouth. Not for anything. Not even to howl out the pleasure of this. Feels Sam spill onto him, the tremors in his body. Too weak to keep holding him. Too weak to hold even himself up, and it's only the instinctiveness of Nate's telekinesis that keeps them from crumpling into a tired, sweaty, happy pile of boys. And Nate hasn't exactly got control of it, but eventually they get to a point of laying down. Kissing, still. He doesn't think they ever stopped. Thinking that this is nothing like anything he remembers about sex. Not just because it's good but because he can feel the happiness on Sam's skin. Doesn't even to reach into his mind for it. Limp and wrung out, and he did this. Him. Nate. Human wreak and monumental fuck up. Getting touched by this luminous being, immortal and fiery and innocent. Petted. Fingers stroking his face while he settles down against Sam's chest. Thinking that if he could just reach in, he could find the source of this. The why. Some reason why Forge loved him, why Sam wanted him, loves him, keeps holding and touching him. Other fingers on his body too, now, people touching him quietly as they leave. Flashes of what they looked like together, what they look like now. Not that many years between them, not really. Absolutely naked in the moment he drops his shields and lays his astral self against Sam's. And hears the name.jane go on go back |