hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2003-05-08 12:06 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2003-05-08 12:06 pm
Entry tags:
Pretty! Shiny! Typical.
I’ve discovered that there’s a disturbing (or not) pattern emerging with regards to my writing: (looks furtive) I go where the boys are.. True story. Angel, Smallville, Harry Potter, Everwood, Ocean’s Eleven, LOTrips… and now X2.
What can I say? I’m not so good for the long-term (except with Lex), but I’ll give you your money’s worth while I stick around. This is also probably the point where I should explain that I had no interest in Xmen fiction (love the comics though), until about four days ago. Kassie had tried and tried hard, even wrote some, but I said no. Now look.
It’s not hypocrisy, just procrastination!
This section is dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ethrosdemon as she felt short changed from last time. My bad, babe.
Movieverse: X2
Thermal IV: Melt
Click fwoosh.
Bobby is dreaming.
Click fwoosh.
Johnny’s lost his lighter, which means there is no possible way he could be sitting on Bobby’s bed right now, shirtless and playing with that goddamn lighter. But he is, and he’s… smirking. Johnny doesn’t smirk. Oh, wait. Yes, he does, and he does it with that mouth. That mouth that Bobby can stop thinking about having wrapped around his cock.
Much in the same way that Bobby’s already got his own hand around wrapped his dick, but under the covers.
Oh please, dear God, let him be dreaming.
Click fwoosh.
“I thought you lost your lighter.” Even in his dreams Bobby’s conversation skills are craptastic, and no wonder he never gets the girls. No wonder he never gets the guy. Not that that really matters because Johnny is just sitting there, on the side of his bed, playing with his lighter, and he’s shirtless, and Bobby’s jerking off under his sheets.
He’s going to hell.
Click fwoosh.
He doesn’t care.
“I did, but you found it for me.”
“I did?” Yes, Bobby is definitely dreaming. He has no idea what time it is, but it’s dark, and the only light in the entire room is coming from that lighter. And wow, St. John looks good in... firelight. That was lame, and did Bobby mention the part about how he’s got his hand down his pants while he’s carrying on this conversation?
Why can’t he stop stroking himself?
Because he’s seventeen.
Because he’s a guy.
Because Johnny’s not wearing a shirt.
And besides, he’s dreaming.
Click fwoosh.
“Don’t you remember?” Johnny’s smiling like the proverbial cat, with that mouth and those lips. Oh fuck.
Bobby can hear his sheets rustling as his hand begins to pick up the pace. Long strokes, his thumb dragging over the head just. like. that. Oh. Bobby really wants to use two hands right now. He really wants to kick off his sheets and pajama bottoms so he can get himself off, but Johnny’s just sitting on the side of his bed, grinning. Bobby’s being so obvious. He really can’t bring himself to care. “No. Yes. Maybe?”
Bobby has no idea what he’s supposed to say, he has no idea what they’re supposed to be talking about either. His cock is desperate at this point because St. John’s just sitting there on the side of his bed while Bobby very indiscreetly jerks off, and Johnny’s got a really nice body. Bobby’s been trying so hard not to notice the full picture, afraid that he might turn the entire mansion into an iceburg, but now that it's right there --
“Oh well, I suppose that means you don’t want me to thank you either?”
Click fwoosh.
Time out.
“Uh.” Bobby’s hand pauses in mid-stroke, and Johnny can’t possibly be talking about what Bobby thinks he’s talking about. Except that St. John’s shifting on the bed, and he’s pulling down Bobby’s blankets.
There are things less embarrassing than being caught by your roommate with your hand down your pants; Bobby found that out this evening: you could keep going while he watches, and Bobby’s hand has a mind all its own. It’s still stroking while Johnny looks on, removing all the linen obstacles and holding his lighter just out of harm’s way.
Bobby’s never been this hard in his life, but he freezes when Johnny’s hand comes down on his wrist, stopping his movements. It doesn’t matter, though. Johnny’s touching Bobby. The heat from his hand is seeping through Bobby’s pajamas. He’s practically touching Bobby’s cock, and Bobby’s going to come in his pants any second now.
“Is that a yes or a no, Bobby?”
“Yes! Fuck, Yes!”
Bobby would agree to steal Cyclops' motorcycle, thereby ensuring immediate death, as long as Johnny doesn’t leave his personal space. Lucky for him it doesn’t happen that way. One minute St. John’s sitting on the side of the bed, watching, and the next he’s straddling Bobby’s legs, allowing his non-lighter-holding-hand to rub where Bobby’s holding his cock. “Good.”
Click fwoosh.
“Show me what you’re doing, Bobby, I wanna see.”
And in the end that’s all it takes.
Bobby doesn’t even get his pants off before he’s coming hard and loud. Very hard. His back arches off the bed so high he’s sure he’s broken something, and when he finally comes down the humiliation starts creeping in. Before Bobby can apologize or even try to move away, Johnny’s hand is back on his wrist, pulling it up and out of his pajamas.
Somewhere along the line Bobby blinks, because one minute Johnny’s got a lighter in his hand, and the next everything is dark. There’s a wet mouth, the wet mouth, wrapping itself around Bobby's fingers and sucking. Licking. Oh, dear God. Soft lips, warm, very warm mouth around his fingers, and fuck, who needs downtime anyway? Eventually the sucking stops, and Bobby’s hands grope for a moment, trying to find Johnny’s hair.
With his free arm, he props himself up to kiss Johnny. Finally.
“—by? Bobby!”
No, that’s not what comes next.
“Drake!”
Oh. No. Not now.
Why now?
Bobby hates being awake. “..Nnn. What’s wrong?”
“Dude, you’ve gotta wake up, there’s ice on the nightstand, and I’m about to freeze to death.”
Bobby’s never experienced déjà vu, but he certainly understands the sentiment because there’s St. John sitting on the side of his bed. Again. But there’s no lighter this time, and uh, oops. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t – I was dreaming.”
“I know, and if I had something to channel my powers with I wouldn’t care. I’d defrost and go back to sleep, but no lighter, so no go.”
“Oh, shit. I. --” Johnny wasn’t kidding, there’s ice on the nightstand, plus St. John’s nose is all red, and his lips are slightly tinged. Are they turning blue? Is he getting sick? Fucking fuck, what a great fake boyfriend Bobby makes, nearly letting Johnny freeze to death just so he can get off in his pants. Which apparently he did because, eww. And also wet, and cold. Fuck. “I’m really sorry, look, we’ll get you a new lighter first thing in the morning, cool?”
“Yeah, but –“
“And in the meantime, you can sleep… I’ll go sleep in the living room, and you can sleep here? Sound good?” Bobby’s already trying to figure out how to get out of bed without having Johnny see the mess in his pajamas, so please don’t let him have made a wet spot too.
He’s just fucking hopeless.
“No! I mean, you don’t have to do all that.”
If Bobby were a bit more awake he might be a bit more clued in to the way St. John’s looking at him like he’s a piece of steak or a new Zippo, but he’s not, ostensibly because of the whole dreaming business. Ergo, right now Bobby’s as dense as a block of ice. “I nearly froze you to death, I think it’s the least I can do.”
“I um… how about – why don’t we share?” Well, Bobby can think of a at least five reasons off the top of his head, but that doesn’t stop him from flipping back his covers in invitation.
“Sure. Get in.”
-finis-
Notes: Huh. I am starting to think this story is really just an exercise for me to practice writing my porn. Feh. I don’t hear Bobby complaining. Much.
What can I say? I’m not so good for the long-term (except with Lex), but I’ll give you your money’s worth while I stick around. This is also probably the point where I should explain that I had no interest in Xmen fiction (love the comics though), until about four days ago. Kassie had tried and tried hard, even wrote some, but I said no. Now look.
It’s not hypocrisy, just procrastination!
This section is dedicated to
ethrosdemon as she felt short changed from last time. My bad, babe. Movieverse: X2
Thermal IV: Melt
Click fwoosh.
Bobby is dreaming.
Click fwoosh.
Johnny’s lost his lighter, which means there is no possible way he could be sitting on Bobby’s bed right now, shirtless and playing with that goddamn lighter. But he is, and he’s… smirking. Johnny doesn’t smirk. Oh, wait. Yes, he does, and he does it with that mouth. That mouth that Bobby can stop thinking about having wrapped around his cock.
Much in the same way that Bobby’s already got his own hand around wrapped his dick, but under the covers.
Oh please, dear God, let him be dreaming.
Click fwoosh.
“I thought you lost your lighter.” Even in his dreams Bobby’s conversation skills are craptastic, and no wonder he never gets the girls. No wonder he never gets the guy. Not that that really matters because Johnny is just sitting there, on the side of his bed, playing with his lighter, and he’s shirtless, and Bobby’s jerking off under his sheets.
He’s going to hell.
Click fwoosh.
He doesn’t care.
“I did, but you found it for me.”
“I did?” Yes, Bobby is definitely dreaming. He has no idea what time it is, but it’s dark, and the only light in the entire room is coming from that lighter. And wow, St. John looks good in... firelight. That was lame, and did Bobby mention the part about how he’s got his hand down his pants while he’s carrying on this conversation?
Why can’t he stop stroking himself?
Because he’s seventeen.
Because he’s a guy.
Because Johnny’s not wearing a shirt.
And besides, he’s dreaming.
Click fwoosh.
“Don’t you remember?” Johnny’s smiling like the proverbial cat, with that mouth and those lips. Oh fuck.
Bobby can hear his sheets rustling as his hand begins to pick up the pace. Long strokes, his thumb dragging over the head just. like. that. Oh. Bobby really wants to use two hands right now. He really wants to kick off his sheets and pajama bottoms so he can get himself off, but Johnny’s just sitting on the side of his bed, grinning. Bobby’s being so obvious. He really can’t bring himself to care. “No. Yes. Maybe?”
Bobby has no idea what he’s supposed to say, he has no idea what they’re supposed to be talking about either. His cock is desperate at this point because St. John’s just sitting there on the side of his bed while Bobby very indiscreetly jerks off, and Johnny’s got a really nice body. Bobby’s been trying so hard not to notice the full picture, afraid that he might turn the entire mansion into an iceburg, but now that it's right there --
“Oh well, I suppose that means you don’t want me to thank you either?”
Click fwoosh.
Time out.
“Uh.” Bobby’s hand pauses in mid-stroke, and Johnny can’t possibly be talking about what Bobby thinks he’s talking about. Except that St. John’s shifting on the bed, and he’s pulling down Bobby’s blankets.
There are things less embarrassing than being caught by your roommate with your hand down your pants; Bobby found that out this evening: you could keep going while he watches, and Bobby’s hand has a mind all its own. It’s still stroking while Johnny looks on, removing all the linen obstacles and holding his lighter just out of harm’s way.
Bobby’s never been this hard in his life, but he freezes when Johnny’s hand comes down on his wrist, stopping his movements. It doesn’t matter, though. Johnny’s touching Bobby. The heat from his hand is seeping through Bobby’s pajamas. He’s practically touching Bobby’s cock, and Bobby’s going to come in his pants any second now.
“Is that a yes or a no, Bobby?”
“Yes! Fuck, Yes!”
Bobby would agree to steal Cyclops' motorcycle, thereby ensuring immediate death, as long as Johnny doesn’t leave his personal space. Lucky for him it doesn’t happen that way. One minute St. John’s sitting on the side of the bed, watching, and the next he’s straddling Bobby’s legs, allowing his non-lighter-holding-hand to rub where Bobby’s holding his cock. “Good.”
Click fwoosh.
“Show me what you’re doing, Bobby, I wanna see.”
And in the end that’s all it takes.
Bobby doesn’t even get his pants off before he’s coming hard and loud. Very hard. His back arches off the bed so high he’s sure he’s broken something, and when he finally comes down the humiliation starts creeping in. Before Bobby can apologize or even try to move away, Johnny’s hand is back on his wrist, pulling it up and out of his pajamas.
Somewhere along the line Bobby blinks, because one minute Johnny’s got a lighter in his hand, and the next everything is dark. There’s a wet mouth, the wet mouth, wrapping itself around Bobby's fingers and sucking. Licking. Oh, dear God. Soft lips, warm, very warm mouth around his fingers, and fuck, who needs downtime anyway? Eventually the sucking stops, and Bobby’s hands grope for a moment, trying to find Johnny’s hair.
With his free arm, he props himself up to kiss Johnny. Finally.
“—by? Bobby!”
No, that’s not what comes next.
“Drake!”
Oh. No. Not now.
Why now?
Bobby hates being awake. “..Nnn. What’s wrong?”
“Dude, you’ve gotta wake up, there’s ice on the nightstand, and I’m about to freeze to death.”
Bobby’s never experienced déjà vu, but he certainly understands the sentiment because there’s St. John sitting on the side of his bed. Again. But there’s no lighter this time, and uh, oops. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t – I was dreaming.”
“I know, and if I had something to channel my powers with I wouldn’t care. I’d defrost and go back to sleep, but no lighter, so no go.”
“Oh, shit. I. --” Johnny wasn’t kidding, there’s ice on the nightstand, plus St. John’s nose is all red, and his lips are slightly tinged. Are they turning blue? Is he getting sick? Fucking fuck, what a great fake boyfriend Bobby makes, nearly letting Johnny freeze to death just so he can get off in his pants. Which apparently he did because, eww. And also wet, and cold. Fuck. “I’m really sorry, look, we’ll get you a new lighter first thing in the morning, cool?”
“Yeah, but –“
“And in the meantime, you can sleep… I’ll go sleep in the living room, and you can sleep here? Sound good?” Bobby’s already trying to figure out how to get out of bed without having Johnny see the mess in his pajamas, so please don’t let him have made a wet spot too.
He’s just fucking hopeless.
“No! I mean, you don’t have to do all that.”
If Bobby were a bit more awake he might be a bit more clued in to the way St. John’s looking at him like he’s a piece of steak or a new Zippo, but he’s not, ostensibly because of the whole dreaming business. Ergo, right now Bobby’s as dense as a block of ice. “I nearly froze you to death, I think it’s the least I can do.”
“I um… how about – why don’t we share?” Well, Bobby can think of a at least five reasons off the top of his head, but that doesn’t stop him from flipping back his covers in invitation.
“Sure. Get in.”
-finis-
Notes: Huh. I am starting to think this story is really just an exercise for me to practice writing my porn. Feh. I don’t hear Bobby complaining. Much.
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*Curtseys like lady she's really not* Why thank you very much
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Boys. There's just no explanation, you know?
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(Also, way too many exclamation marks, but that's the way my brain works right now - sorry!)
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(Also, way too many exclamation marks, but that's the way my brain works right now - sorry!)
I'm glad you're excited, thank you so much for all your support.
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Yeah, you know I wasn't hearing much complaining. I'm glad you're enjoying it.
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Sounds like an excellent idea to me. Follow your heart, I always say! *g*
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Sounds like an excellent idea to me. Follow your heart, I always say! *g*
It's my heart I'm following? Really? I had no idea it had migrated ;)
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*nub*
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*nub*
Bobby has control issues. Not that I blame him. *winks*
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complaining--?
brain---?
not here. not my brain. but. HOT. again, HOT. and cold. and pyro. and yes.
thankyouverymuch, may--um--they come again. yes.
*coughs*
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thankyouverymuch, may--um--they come again. yes.
Yeah, that sounds a lot like what they said. *g*
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For some reason I just adore that line. I don't usually post, although I've read most of your fics, but I just had to say thanks for giving me a new pairing to love and adore and search out fic for. Because really, who needs to study at college? Bah. Anyway, you rule, etc.
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Studying? At college? Only if it has to do with the cheapest brand of beer, and thank you for the lovely feedback and I'm thrilled that you're enjoying this.
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My instincts are saying that being broken is a bad thing, but you seem all right with it.
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Thank you.
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“—by? Bobby!”
No, that’s not what comes next.
“Drake!”
Oh. No. Not now.
Why now?
Bobby hates being awake. “..Nnn. What’s wrong?”
“Dude, you’ve gotta wake up, there’s ice on the nightstand, and I’m about to freeze to death.”
I may or may not have fallen out of my chair.
This series is excellent. You have such an original voice, and the way you write Bobby is just so realistic, and I love it. Plus the snarkiness of the whole fic is just killing me here.
and by the way, st. john has a mouth that ought to be WORSHIPPED.
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This series is excellent. You have such an original voice, and the way you write Bobby is just so realistic, and I love it. Plus the snarkiness of the whole fic is just killing me here.
There's not much Bobby exposure in the movies beyond as a Rogue-foil, but the Iceman that I rememeber (from when i was five and watching the amazing spider-man on TV) was the class clown, so I'll just stick with that.
and by the way, st. john has a mouth that ought to be WORSHIPPED.
No objections over here.
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Yes, I think I've heard that once or twice. *g*
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you put craptastic in a fic. Dude. lol This fic *is* a shout out to me. accidentally.
hahaha! ice on the nightstand waking up thing is good. I could see the ice sheet all over the bureau. Bobby, what a cutie. But definately not for me. Can you imagine how cold his feet are? What about his tongue? Just go to the bad place with me real quick...yeah, you don't want a popcicle there, do ya?
Maybe some people get off like that, but ya know.
PORN! Practice more porn! how about Piotr? There are bound to be other boys there. Angel? Remy? Um...Nate Grey? hahaha
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you put craptastic in a fic. Dude. lol This fic *is* a shout out to me. accidentally.
I told you this was all about you.
But definately not for me. Can you imagine how cold his feet are? What about his tongue? Just go to the bad place with me real quick...yeah, you don't want a popcicle there, do ya?
Maybe some people get off like that, but ya know.
Ahhhhhhhh! That's just, that's just wrong, and also, bad. Anyway, when are you gonna write some XM. Hook a sister up!
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Fucking fuck, what a great fake boyfriend Bobby makes, nearly letting Johnny freeze to death just so he can get off in his pants.
Hee! Fake boyfriend. That's just adorable.
And the ending? Yeah. See above re: you tease.
*adores*
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Hee! Fake boyfriend. That's just adorable.
And the ending? Yeah. See above re: you tease.
*adores*
Look, I wrote porn, why are you hassling me? A little frustration can go a long way, or so I hear. Me, I'm all about instant gratification.
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*laughs* think of this as an excuse to go and see the movie again.
i'm actually an agent of marvel comics sent to drive up sales.
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Did I mention the part where you've converted me to Iceman/Pyro slash?
One tiny nitpick: it's Cyclop's bike, not Wolverine's, and if this is between X1 and X2 Bobby would know that stealing Scott's bike is the hanging offence, since Logan's not around ... so, you may want to alter that one word. If you want.
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Did I mention the part where you've converted me to Iceman/Pyro slash?
One tiny nitpick: it's Cyclop's bike, not Wolverine's, and if this is between X1 and X2 Bobby would know that stealing Scott's bike is the hanging offence, since Logan's not around ... so, you may want to alter that one word. If you want.
1. yay, to the bobby/st. john love
2. thank you for the nitpicky thing, i appreciate it immensely. i wasn't terribly fond of the first movie, plus, x2 has the better looking st. john, so i think i may have slacked a bit on the details.
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Yay, porn! Much like 'yay, pie' only less fattening!
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*laughs me too* Thank you, Meret.
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Because he’s a guy.
Because Johnny’s not wearing a shirt.
*nods* Makes sense to me!
I just love this. It's fun and hot and has great characterization. I love the way you get into Bobby's head.
Oh, and, you know, the smut. And the lingering descriptions of John's hands and mouth and chest. Cos. You know.
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At heart I am a 17 year-old boy, I think it explains a lot.
Oh, and, you know, the smut. And the lingering descriptions of John's hands and mouth and chest. Cos. You know.
I really have to thank *you* for the sudden burst of that mouth praise, because I wasn't quite as OTT until I saw those photos you linked to. Phwoar.
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Why are y'all acting like I'm the only person in the world who writes. You could write some. She could write some. The entire world needs to write some. That's my opinion at any rate.
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(Anonymous) 2003-05-10 12:43 am (UTC)(link)no subject
I love the thing with the ice on the nightstand. Hooray for cute awkward moments! Plus, it's an excuse to get them in bed together, and how could I complain about that?
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I love the thing with the ice on the nightstand. Hooray for cute awkward moments! Plus, it's an excuse to get them in bed together, and how could I complain about that?
Everything is an excuse for sex. Yes, that is my theory, and I'm sticking to it. *winks*
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*grins stupidly*
Wow. That's some serious praise right there. Thank you, I don't quite know what else to say, but it means a lot to me that you're enjoying this so much.
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Mim
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Mim
Hello, Mim, welcome to the party. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, thanks!
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Personally, I'd like to see St. John make Bobby go 'Click. Fwoosh.'
I be the conflagration would be...spectacular. *evil grin*