What do you mean S-M-U-T doesn't spell gratuitous? Pfft.

Movieverse: X2
Thermal III: Defrost

It’s his mouth.

It’s definitely Johnny’s mouth that’s causing Bobby’s problems. Problems Bobby didn’t have until he started thinking so much about St. John. And also, his fingers feel a bit stiff, probably because he’s frozen them to the table.

Bobby glances up at St. John, but Johnny’s looking elsewhere and obviously doesn’t notice. But Bobby does. There’s not much Bobby’s not noticing. Like that mouth.

Bobby had thought his attraction to St. John centered around his hands and that lighter. But the lighter is gone, and Bobby’s just as obsessed as ever, and really, not wanting to think about the word ‘obsession,’ because that’s bad. But St. John is right there, right across the table, and is—

“Are you going to eat that, Drake?”

Johnny’s mouth is moving, and his lips are just... Bobby has never thought about wanting to suck on anybody’s lips before, but there’s a first time for everything, and he’s a seventeen year-old boy. He’s probably already late to the fetish. Plus, just look at that mouth. Wet tongue, soft, or possibly hard, pink lips that would probably feel so good wrapped around Bobby’s cock.

Jesus H. Christ. He can feel the ice wanting to form on his tongue.

“D’you want that Twinkie, or what?”

Bobby doesn’t know who took the lighter away, but he desperately wants to find and thank them. True, it’s only been missing a few hours, however, if St. John were still playing with his lighter 24/7, then Bobby would still be staring at Johnny’s hands - which are very close to his mouth right now -and he’d never have noticed the mouth. Which makes him a dumbass, because wow. And also, shit, because that mouth, on Johnny? Correction: on Bobby? Uh…

“Bobby? Bobby?”

Okay. Bobby really doesn’t want to think about that, or this hard-on that’s driving him nuts, and why why why are they sitting together at lunch? Apart from the friendship thing, and the being the roommates thing, and where are the girls? Where’s Kitty with her flirting hints and Jubilee with her sarcasm? Where’s Rogue to distract him?

Why is Bobby doing this to himself: watching Johnny lick his lips and use a straw? Johnny’s sucking on a straw. Oh, fuck this. Who needs lunch anyway?

“-mouth?”

“What?” Bobby’s supposed to be talking? To Johnny? Right now?

“Have you heard any of the words that are coming out my mouth, man?”

No, but he’s definitely been looking at them. “Um, no.”

“Look, Bobby, I’m not the girls. I’m not good at this talking shit, but you’ve been acting really weird lately, you wanna tell me why?”

“No, it’s --- I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So can I have your Twinkie?”

*

Johnny takes five minutes in the shower.

Yes, this is something Bobby knows. He’s a teenage boy with needs, of course this is something he knows. It’s hard-learned fact, much in the same way that Bobby knows that Kitty wears the flowery lotion, while Jubes likes the one that’s all fruity. Bobby also knows that Rogue doesn’t bother with all that girlie stuff, but still smells like food because of her shampoo.

Not that Bobby really needs to think about the girls with all his cock has already been through today, but still.

They’re girls, and they’re hot, and…hot.

Johnny’s hot, too. Literally and figuratively, and wouldn’t the Professor be glad that he’d finally learned something in English? No, no thinking about the Professor, and if Bobby’s going to jerk off, he better get with it.

He’s only got four minutes left.

Bobby’s left hand moves long before his brain engages it, and he wonders what it would feel like to touch Johnny like this. He wonders if Johnny likes it fast and hard or slow and wet. He wonders if St. John licks his fingers or prefers lotion, and Bobby groans when he slides his hand under the waistband of his pajamas.

The shower’s still going. It’s okay.

His fingers grasp his dick, and his sense of control begins to spin.

It’s getting colder in the room.

Three minutes.

The first strokes are slow and methodical. Bobby used to make them perfunctory, but he’s learned to make every last moment count, especially considering his time constraint.

There’s something much more soothing about masturbating in his bed as opposed to the shower. Of course, his chances of being caught by Johnny seem to improve when he’s in the shower, which is something he’s going to have to think about. But just the idea of Johnny watching him, or touching him.

Whoa. He didn’t think he could get harder.

He’s not going to think about whether or not St. John is even attracted to him. That little episode in the hall the other day was all the incentive he needed.

Two minutes.

Bobby’s generally a two-handed kind of guy: one for his balls and one for cock, and the idea that Johnny’s the same, that Johnny might touch himself like this? The image is a complete and total overload. Bobby’s hips piston uncontrollably into his fist, and the bed is starting to creak dangerously.

Bobby doesn’t care.

The taste of warm copper fills his mouth, and he didn’t even know he was biting his lip, which inevitably makes him think of Johnny and his mouth. Warm mouth moving on Bobby’s skin, teeth on his nipples, and that tongue moving down and over his cock.

Oh. Fuck.

“Do you want me to come back?”

The shower did not go off. Bobby still has 37 seconds.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

“Uh---“

“It got really cold in the bathroom.”

And to think that Mr. Summers said he had been doing really well with his control.

“Would ‘sorry’ cover it?”

“Depends, were you planning to play hockey in the bathroom?”

"Uh, no?"

"Then ask me in the morning."

-finis-

Notes: You think I jest? Look at this mouth. Thanks to