|
|
|
|
Part 5: Obstacle 2 He heard someone step into the room, not switching the light on. John tried to make out who it was in the dark as he heard someone stumble over something, nearly falling – and then he noticed how cold the room suddenly got. He pulled his cover up over his shoulders, seeing Bobby flop down onto his own bed on the other side of the room, cursing quietly to himself. It came out muffled, and it seemed he was lying down on his stomach, trying to choke himself with his pillow. John sat up, leaning back on his elbows and called Bobby’s name out in the dark. The cursing stopped and instead he heard something sounding like, “ood?” “What?” Bobby turned on the light on his nightstand, his face still in his pillow. Reluctantly, he lifted his head and glanced at John. “I said ‘what’?” “What are you doing there?” John asked, throwing the covers over to the side, “get the fuck in here, now,” and he might’ve sounded a little grumpy. It was Bobby’s fault anyway; coming home so late when John had been waiting for him for hours. Bobby didn’t say a word as he got up and quickly discarded his jeans, socks and shirt before lying down next to John. He stared up at the ceiling as John looked at him expectantly, and as John suspected, it only took Bobby a few moments until he cracked. “I can’t believe them.” John looked over Bobby while leaning on one elbow; Bobby was still staring at the ceiling really intently while his hands were pressed against the mattress. “Okay. Before you start, though, can you turn down the temperature? I don’t feel like losing any limbs right now.” “Oh,” Bobby looked shocked, “I’m sorry.” John waited a few seconds for Bobby to close his eyes and bring back the normal temperature in the room. “Better,” John smirks, “now…continue.” “We got into a fight,” Bobby explained with a sour look, “A public fight, right there at the restaurant.” John felt sympathetic because he knew how much Bobby hated fighting in front of people; he was the kind of person who’d pull someone to a corner and tell them off so nobody but them could get embarrassed. John thought it looked like Bobby was still blushing just from talking about the fight with his parents, which only proved that the fight itself must’ve been a big one. “Did someone throw plates?” John offered, lying down on his back and lying in parallel with Bobby, staring up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t a Greek wedding,” Bobby mumbled, letting a smile slip out when John did a disappointment groan, “but the table cloth got a little wrinkled.” “Oooh, that’s tough,” John joked, quieting down for a moment to let Bobby speak. “It started out nice, though. I had some kind of soufflé,” Bobby explained, gesturing with his hands up in the air, “something French. Dad had steak.” “So what happened? He didn’t like the meat and threw it at you?” Bobby sighed, closed his eyes at the memory and balled his hands into fists by his side. “I mentioned Warren.” This caught John’s attention, so he turned his head and made out Bobby’s profile in the dark. “Unless you mentioned how much you wanted to have sex with him, I don’t get –“ “Don’t be stupid,” Bobby muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I mentioned Warren and the possibility of us starting to teach here next year and then dad asked who he was. I told him about the wings, and he freaked out.” “They met Warren?” “They saw him flying above the mansion before we left.” It got quiet; Bobby looked like he was pondering the Question of Life and John had no idea what to say, what to do. Obviously this was hurting Bobby, more than he’d care to admit because Bobby never liked admitting to anyone that he lets things get to him, especially since he asked Xavier to one day became an X-men. Mr. Summers always said, ‘admitting your weaknesses will give your opponents the perfect opportunity to strike you down’ when training in the danger room. And Bobby had always been dead-set on becoming the best X-man he could ever be, so that phrase got stuck in Bobby’s head longer than it should have – and John noticed it. John gingerly lifted his right arm, reaching out to touch Bobby’s naked shoulder. Bobby barely noticed; he was busy staring hard up at the ceiling with an intense glare. He looked like he was about to crack and he his nostrils were flaring in anger; his entire neck was tense and threatened to snap. John let his fingers run over the small patch of skin on his shoulder, forming small patterns with his fingertips, pretending like he was manoeuvring flame with the flick of his wrist. Bobby’s skin felt hot under his touch. “They don’t like you,” Bobby whispered, refusing to acknowledge John’s touch. “Mom pretended to be nice. She…she might like you,” he admitted, his face turning into something unrecognizable for a split second, “but dad doesn’t.” “That’s not a surprise,” John replied, scooting so he was lying closer to Bobby; his torso pressed up against the side of Bobby’s shoulder, his mouth briefly kissing where his fingers just had been. “It’s not just that, it’s everything,” Bobby said louder, his voice almost shaking with anger, “they didn’t try, not really. When they got here they already had their mind set on what to think.” “To be fair, I wasn’t my usual charming self,” John tried to lighten the mood, but Bobby would not budge. “God, and they had the nerve to call Warren a freak,” Bobby continued, finally turning his head to stare into John’s eyes angrily, “and they hadn’t even talked to him. I mean…they thought that about all of us, about me,” his voice got low and he closed his eyes briefly, “They hated this place. The professor must have known. He knows everything. He must’ve known…” John didn’t know what to say; he leaned his head on his pillow as he focused on Bobby’s pale skin shining in the dim light. He touched it, wanting it to feel reassuring but had no idea what affect it really made. He only hoped, as Bobby gave out a long, tortured sigh that sound like he was breaking and he wanted to reach for Bobby’s mouth, wanted to kiss him, wanted to touch all the pain away. Touching was one thing John was good at; reassuring words was not one of them. “This place is driving me crazy,” Bobby then said with a frown on his face, “I’m starting to understand why you can’t trust telepaths.” “Well,” John started, “I’m always right.” Bobby cracked a smile at that, thankfully. “And full of yourself, too.” “Eh, don’t pretend you don’t love it.” They settled into a comfortable silence and John was content with just lying there, slowly drifting into sleep as he idly let his fingertips stroke Bobby’s shoulder, arm. After a while Bobby suddenly turned around, forcing John to pull his hand away from his shoulder, and wrapped one arm around John’s waist, pressing them close. John felt Bobby’s soft mouth trail up his jaw line, whispering something into his ear that sounded like, “you don’t drive me insane, I didn’t mean that,” and John was quick to reply with, “Good, because that comment made me cry myself to sleep, you idiot.” It was a term of affection that only John would use in a situation like that, and Bobby gave him a sheepish smile accompanied by a shrug. “If anything, you drive me sane.” “I was thinking of becoming a therapist,” John replied tiredly, grabbing the back of Bobby’s neck and murmuring, “come here,” and pressing their lips together for a kiss. It was a simple kiss; a long one where John just let himself feel the cool lips against his own, feeling Bobby relax under his touch and the tension in his shoulder finally going away completely. “We can have sex in the morning,” John commented with a smirk on his face, “because I don’t think you’d be so flattered if I fell asleep while blowing you.” Bobby snorted, pulling the covers over the two of them and settling in with his arm over John’s chest. “So considerate.” “Just don’t tell anyone,” John said quietly before turning around, feeling Bobby press himself up against his back and kissing his neck, feeling his cool breath against his skin. They quickly got tired and ready for sleep, and the last thing John remembered before falling asleep was how he traced patterns with his fingertips on Bobby’s arm. * There were little dwarfs everywhere, dressed as Santa’s little helpers. Or maybe they were Santa’s little helpers; John wasn’t sure and he really didn’t care. But they were surrounding him, chanting some Christmas song John knew the lyrics too but refused to sing along with. “Pa rum pum pum pum,” he heard the little ones squeak out, dressed in red and green and little bells attached to their hats. One had a mistletoe tattooed on his forehead, and John figured that must’ve been a real hardcore little helper. One that hung out in biker bars and argued the logic of Santa living in the North Pole and invited all his biker friends to Christmas parties at his place. And there was so many of them, at least 50. John looked around and knew he was in the clinical and cold Danger Room, but nobody else but him and the helpers were there. He had the feeling the elves were going to eat him up and then write Christmas jingles about it after. “I need to get out of here,” John then said, staring up at the shiny ceiling and suddenly realizing that the ceiling got bigger, closer to him, and he could no longer feel the steady floor beneath his feet. He was flying – the little helpers got impossibly tinier when he looked at them down on the floor, hopping on their little legs as if that could bring him back down. “Pa rum!” They shrieked, all fifty of them, and it sounded like the apocalypse in John’s ears. He thought he was safe now and he started flying towards the door of the danger room when he felt someone grab his shoulder, spinning him around in the air until he saw that it was Logan…flying…holding a mistletoe over their heads. And he winked. “Time to blow out the candles, bub,” he said and John felt terrified right down to the core and the large man grabbed his collars, brining their lips together in a disturbingly violent kiss. Next thing John knew, he wasn’t flying. He was laying in his own bed, feeling something warm and wet make its way up his inner thighs and – he was momentarily panicked. He glanced down between his legs and saw a tent made by his covers. A tent formed by someone’s head holding it up, and he carefully lifted the cover properly so he could see who it was; and he was hoping, almost praying that it wouldn’t be Wolverine. “What were you dreaming about?” Bobby grinned from under the covers, his eyes shining in the morning light that came through the windows. John let out a chuckle, pushing the covers away and not showing the least bit of shame of exposing his body like that. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” John breathed out and then gasped when Bobby without a warning let his mouth kiss the head of John’s cock. “Jesus,” he mumbled. “Too early?” Bobby teased him, letting his tongue follow the slit on the head, watching John squirming at the touch. “Never,” John croaked out, starting to move his hips up a bit so Bobby could keep touching him. But Bobby wasn’t, not anymore, and it made John angry and sad and other emotions it was way too early for. Bobby let a finger then run up the length of John’s cock, feeling it jump up at the touch, and smiled. “I’ll try not to ice your dick,” Bobby promised, his eyes smiling as he let his tongue slid up the length, licking as much as he could while John’s hips kept moving slowly. “Thank you,” was all John said, his brain too scattered to think of another reply. Instead he leaned back, feeling Bobby’s hot mouth take in John’s cock, the brief suction causing him nearly to lift his entire waist of the bed. “God,” John let out a chuckle at it, knowing it seemed like he was laughing at his own in-joke which Bobby would never understand. He clarified it by mumbling, “It’s the best kind of wake up call.” Bobby hummed, letting John’s cock out of his mouth and watched John make a pitiful noise. “It beats having Logan bang on our door five minutes before breakfast,” he said, and John got a brief flashback of his dream and quickly pushed it away. “Just,” John started, his hands finding their way to Bobby’s head, where his fingers could run through his short hair, “just don’t stop.” “Say ‘please’,” Bobby commanded and John had to look at him at that; giving him a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look. “I had to try it,” Bobby sweetly explained, not giving John a time for reactions as he grabbed the cock with his right hand, licking it from base to top like a cat, humming contently when John let out moans. John licked his lips, imagining Bobby sucking him off and touching Bobby, fucking Bobby, doing things to Bobby that still caused his best friend to blush. He got harder, feeling the wet and hot mouth take in his cock again, sucking on the head as Bobby’s hand stroked him. John let go of his hair, letting his hands grab the sheets he was lying on, grabbing them and pulling at them as he willed himself to lie still, not move his hips. He bit his lip, letting himself get overwhelmed by the feeling of Bobby’s tongue, Bobby’s lips, the small humming he kept doing that sent delicious vibrations through John’s body, making him even harder. “Yes, fuck, just like that,” John was mumbling to himself, not sure if Bobby even heard him, and then felt one of Bobby’s hand reach up to touch one of John’s. Their fingers entwined and John didn’t even looked up at the touch; he welcomed it automatically, feeling Bobby holding onto him as he sucked him off harder, faster, increasing the rhythm. “Fuck yes,” John sighed contently, twisting and turning in the bed as Bobby cupped his balls and took as much of John as he could into his mouth. John opened his eyes; letting himself enjoy the view of Bobby between his legs and felt his balls tighten at the vision alone. Bobby’s hand laid over his, which were tightly grasping the sheets, and he let his free hand move over to Bobby’s head again, running his fingers encouragingly through his hair. Bobby picked up the pace, letting his hand go from John’s and resting on his hipbone, and John felt how close he was. He swallowed hard, not being able to stop the words that was coming out of his mouth, “Wait, wait,” he said, putting his hands on Bobby’s shoulders. Bobby, being the good soldier that he was, immediately stopped and looked at John questioningly. “Something wrong?” he asked worried. John touched Bobby’s neck, showing him that he wanted Bobby to come up, lie on top of him, and Bobby obeyed the touch like he always did. He stared into John’s eyes as their erections rubbed against each other; John realized that although Bobby was hard, he hadn’t taken off his boxers yet. “There is something wrong,” John said quietly, getting Bobby’s attention, “something seriously wrong.” “Wha-” John let his hands slip under the waistband of Bobby’s boxers, hearing Bobby hiss as his hands brushed over his cock. “You, still wearing clothes, that’s what’s wrong. Take it off.” Bobby took the boxers off in a matter of seconds, quickly discarding it and throwing it somewhere on the floor, and John wondered if that’s where his own boxers were. “Always the quick one,” John joked, letting Bobby duck down to give him another kiss, a sloppy one where John could taste himself off Bobby’s lips. They slowly started to rub themselves against each other, John letting his hands press Bobby’s ass and feeling Bobby’s erection finding the perfect aligned position of their bodies. This was better, he thought, feeling Bobby all over him and everywhere at once; he was already too close to do anything but this, and it felt so good that he wanted to do this all day, all week, all fucking year if possible. Bobby kissed John’s neck, sucking and licking at the spot by his collarbone and John reached down to stroke Bobby, hearing him hiss and moan against his skin. “God,” he croaked, moaning loudly as John stroked him fast, hard, wanting Bobby to be as close as he was. Bobby’s whole body seemed to paralyze for a second as he hid his face in John’s neck, tightly holding John by his shoulders to steady himself. John kissed his shoulder, anything he could reach, and jumped when Bobby had subtly sneaked his hand up to his cock without him realizing him. They stroked each other quickly, neither having any time or patience to wait any longer; Bobby was lying a little on the side, watching their hands move in the same rhythm on each other’s cocks, hearing John’s mouth let out shorter gasps, showing that he was very close now. Bobby couldn’t do anything more than to keep stroking John; John’s hand on his cock was making him gasp for air and pushing his hips urgently forward. John, who had been mumbling and gasping incoherently, suddenly quieted down considerably as Bobby kept stroking him, finally hearing one loud gasp followed by a dragged out “fuck,” seconds before John came over his chest, over Bobby’s fingers. Bobby continued stroking him more lightly, watching John trying to calm down his breathing and memorized the sounds he made, the way his eyes closed at the orgasm and his mouth opened, making him look helpless and in control at the same time – It was enough to drive Bobby over the edge and he came over John’s hand, spurt after spurt dragging out groans and gasps from him. John looked at Bobby intensely until Bobby felt it and turned to look back, then gave him a hungry kiss, a satisfied kiss, with John’s tongue licking Bobby’s lips until he opened his mouth, letting him in. Bobby smiled through the kiss, feeling John do the same, and when they parted John quickly ducked to the edge of the bed, picking up one of his shirts from the floor to wipe them both clean. During all of this, Bobby relaxed against the pillows and watched John wipe them clean, throwing the shirt into the opened door in the bathroom when he was done. He grinned at the way John eagerly climbed back into the bed next to him. “Merry Christmas,” Bobby offered, and John looked at him in surprise. He had forgotten it was Christmas, for a moment. In between meeting the parents and avoiding Jubilee’s Mistletoe of Death, John had been hiding out in the room, not letting himself be bothered by the holiday at all. He had been planning on spending his entire Christmas that way when he found out Bobby was leaving for Boston, but now it was obvious that they were going to spend their first Christmas together while being more than friends. John didn’t have the strength to think about what they were exactly. Bobby called them boyfriends, but John had something against that word since years back. He was content to not think about it, basically, and kiss and fuck and touch only Bobby. He assumed that kind of made them boyfriends, but he’d never be the one to admit it. Then Bobby was out of the bed, pulling on his pair of boxers from the floor and walking towards the bathroom. John noticed the bag that had been pushed into their closet peaking out through the half-open door and said, “Time to open up the presents?” Bobby peeked out of the bathroom, giving him a cheeky wink, “Didn’t we just do that?” “I want to see what your parents got you.” The look on Bobby’s face darkened and he went back into the bathroom, leaving John to only hear his echoes against the tile walls. “I don’t.” John narrowed his eyes at the empty doorframe as he put on his boxers. “Please?” He tried, but said it so quietly that Bobby probably didn’t even hear him. “But it’s Christmas,” he then said, louder this time. “I don’t care,” Bobby appeared against with a toothbrush in his mouth, angrily glaring at the bag peaking out of the closet, “I don’t want any of it.” “So what, no presents this year?” John asked, not thinking about what he said actually meant as he opened the door to the closet and looked at the bag, “it’s what Christmas is for.” “Funny, then I have that whole Jesus thing all wrong,” Bobby muttered from the bathroom. “The only presents I need are from friends.” “How noble of you,” John laughed, taking out a pair of jeans from the closet, then closing the door shut. “Seriously though,” Bobby paused, spitting out the toothpaste into the sink, “throw the bag. I don’t want it.” “Fine,” John gave in, “I’ll burn it on the lawn. We’ll make a really dramatic event out of it, since you’re into that sort of thing.” John picked up a shirt from a chair, realizing it was Bobby’s. But it was clean, and that was good enough for him; he put it on and examined himself in the mirror with an approving grin. He was about to join Bobby in the bathroom when he heard Bobby say, “Friends are the ones who gives the best gifts anyway,” which John had no idea what it meant. But it did make him stare at himself through the mirror with a shocked look. His heart might’ve stopped beating for a few seconds. He might’ve lost the ability to speak. He heard Bobby sing some crappy pop song in the bathroom, completely unaware of the horror John was currently going through. It was Christmas Eve, and John hadn’t bought any gifts for anyone – including the guy he fucked on a regular basis. He wasn’t an expert of relationships, but John was pretty sure that the fucking entitled both of them to do some sort of gift exchange on the largest gift holiday season of the year. Suddenly Bobby appeared by the doorframe again, looking curiously at John over by the mirror. “Hey,” he said, waiting until John gave him a small smile. “Snow fight?” John frowned and then realized what Bobby was talking about. “Ha ha. Funny.” “Come on,” Bobby pleaded, “I won’t put snow in your pants or anything.” John put on a smirk, letting it hide how nervous he actually was at the moment, “I don’t need cooling down.” Bobby looked at him oddly for a moment, and then a grin started spreading over his face. “Of course you don’t.” He retreated back into the bathroom and John started thinking up a plan. Not that he was good with plans – in fact, he was crap at them. Especially when they involved Bobby, because it always seemed like Bobby knew exactly what he was thinking. In the bathroom, Bobby was gleefully bellowing out a hearty “Pa rum pum pum pum!” before inspecting his shiny, brushed teeth in the mirror. He was oblivious to John’s painful groaning coming from their bedroom. NEXT PART - Part 6a: Desperate Measures |