The old library was a sprawling complex of stone tiles and stone walls, fitted with tomes gathered from the Realms’ highs and lows. It was usually very silent, aside from the occasional muted sighs of pages being ardently turned, or the occasional booming slander of the avidly unlearned. Thor would be that unlearned, stubbornly uninitiated. When they had been younger Loki had to drag him along, kicking and screaming and spewing vile threats whenever their tutor would send them down there.
“Freak, seriously… stop it. I have to kill this guy. I am so not letting you have anymore weed.”
Brandon gave him a red eyed leer and lunged for the zip on Wesley’s jacket, again. Wesley made a very annoyed huff as he resorted to slapping Brandon’s hands away. Brandon was not to be put off though. He got his hands on Wesley’s jacket and yanked the zipper down, shoving his hands into Wesley’s armpits and rubbing his thumbs over Wesley’s nipples.
“Jesus Christ!” Wesley squealed as Brandon’s lips attached themselves to his neck. “Seriously… stop. Come on. I’ll miss my window of opportunity…”
“Oh well…” came the rough whisper, right before teeth scraped over Wesley’s ear.
He whined and wriggled, blood coming up as all the handling began to get him going. He wanted more handling but not until the business was done. Besides they’d make too much noise and as they’d broken into this house, it might a bit hard to explain them shagging in the third floor front room when the residents returned. Not that Brandon probably couldn’t, but he still didn’t want to miss this chance.
“Freeeeaaak… shit, come on… I won’t be able to see straight.”
“Noo, come onnnn… you just want me to miss so you can stay and do more weed.”
Brandon smiled unapologetically and shoved his tongue down Wesley’s throat. Wesley growled and gave a good shove, catching Brandon off balance. Brandon stumbled back with a slightly dazed look to his face. Wesley stepped back against the wall, zipped up and clutched the neck of his jacket tightly. He stuck his chin out defiantly and scowled.
“Right, no fucking till I kill this guy. Seriously.”
Brandon grinned and licked his lips.
“I like it when you fight.”
“How much of that shit did you smoke?”
“It was the brownies.”
Wesley huffed out a laugh and gingerly made his way past Brandon to the window. He squinted out and picked up the rifle that was propped against the wall.
“Thought I tasted chocolate.”
Wesley hefted the rifle into position and looked out of the scope and onto the canal. There wasn’t much traffic this time of day so his target was fairly simple to spot.
“No molesting me for the next five minutes.”
“You’ve never needed five minutes before.”
Wesley took a calming breath and carefully sighted. The boat motored forward slowly, this line of sight gradually clearing.
“I’m starting without you,” Brandon purred.
“How is that different from any other day?”
Wesley groaned as he registered the sound of a zip being pulled down.
“You are impossible, Freak. Seriously.”
“Who’s going to finish first, little virgin?”
Wesley didn’t even shake his head. That would throw off his aim. He grinned at the little groans he heard. Those and the rough rustle of skin on skin.
He gave a firm squeese of the trigger and let out the breath he was holding. It was a short count for the distance then he watched as the target collapsed among a flurry of screaming tourists. Wesley inhaled deeply and turned, just as Brandon came all over the front of his jacket.
“Ugh, you are so gross!” Wesley laughed. “I should make you lick that all off!”
Brandon chuckled. He grinned as he zipped back up and licked his lips.
“Good idea,” he said as he fell to his knees.
(photo from pearlo)
“Wes, stand still.”
“I want to take your picture.”
“Come on, Brandon…”
Brandon moved him closer to the light and turned him this way and that until he was happy.
“Can we go after this?”
Wesley was tired. He hated these parties and only did them to find his targets. No luck tonight though. No luck made him cranky and pouty.
“Get your hands out of your pockets.”
“Fuck you, Brandon.”
Wesley huffed but moved one of his hands to slide up his under his jacket. Immediately the flash popped. He was pleased to note that still worked. He yawned then and leaned against the wall. Brandon slithered up tightly against him.
“You look like a bored boy toy.”
“I am a bored boy toy. And a tired one. Let’s gooooo.”
Brandon winked and stole a swift kiss.
“I’ll make you a cocoa.”
“Ok, just don’t put a roofie in it. I’ll probably fall asleep on you anyway.”
Brandon laughed and kissed him again.
And then they had sex.
A sharp rap at the door caused Valentin to jump a bit. He was antsy with anticipation and it took every effort for him not to leap from his chair and fling open the door. As it was he flung open the door, breathless, cheeks burning with hope and want.
“Herr Doktor Jung…” it was nearly a prayer on his lips.
Carl removed his hat and grinned.
“Yes, my friend. May I come in?”
Valentin flushed and stepped aside.
“Please. I’ve looked forward to seeing you again.”
No sooner had Valentin ushered Carl in and closed the door, he felt himself seized in strong arms and dragged into a searing kiss. Valentin clutched desperately at his coat until they parted for air.
“I’ve missed you so…” Valentin said, resting his head on Carl’s shoulder.
“And I you, my little love.”
Carl held him a moment, then kissed him tenderly on the forehead, stepping back.
“Let me see you.”
Valentin took his hat and coat, setting them neatly on the chair. He suddenly feet very underdressed in only his shirtsleeves. He liked that feeling, especially when Carl looked at him so.
“Do I not look alright?” He nervously licked his lips.
“You look like a banquet to a starving man.”
Carl strode forward and seized him again, lifting him with surpassing ease. Valentin moaned softly as Carl carried him through to his bedroom.
“Will you eat me, starving man?” Valentin whispered into Carl’s neck.
“I will swallow you whole my dearest red riding hood,” he growled, settling Valentin back against the pillows. He straightened and threw his jacket to the side, heedless of where it fell.
Valentin quivered under Carl’s heated gaze. Oh how he wanted to be devoured whole.
“Show me,” he said.
Carl smiled at him and ran his thumb over his moustache, neatening it. He carefully removed his glasses and set them on table next to Valentin’s bed.
“As you command.”
Carl eagerly fell upon Valentin, lips and hands everywhere at once. Valentin cried out when Carl’s teeth nipped savagely down his neck but pleaded for more. He pleaded for more when Carl’s fingers began to tease under his shirt. He pleaded until Carl almost brutally wrenched him free of it.
“Will you eat me now?” Valentin breathed.
“No, my dearest. Not yet…”
Carl stroked and kissed every inch of exposed skin, licked each freckle, worshipped every part, until Valentin was sobbing and writhing beneath him.
“Please Carl… please… ”
“As you command.”
Carl swiftly undid the buttons of Valentin’s trousers and summarily shoved them down his thighs. He moaned at the sight of Valentin’s cock popping free of his clothing.
“You are beyond beautiful,” he moaned as he bent to take it fully into his mouth.
Valentin wound his fingers in Carl’s hair, crying out in need. He was so overheated he could barely stand it. Carl’s mouth was a wild, forbidden pleasure. His ruin and his most deep desire. He could not stop himself from pushing up into that most perfect and decadent heat and Carl did not stop him. In truth, Carl simply swallowed him down further. Valentin could scarcely endure the pleasure.
“Yes… yes… devour me… oh!”
Valentin peaked, thrashing wildly. Carl held him down fast, his large hands firmly gripping his hips. Valentin could feel him swallowing and moaned. It was growing to be too much for him to bear. He collapsed back into the pillows, gasping out Carl’s name still gently pulling at his hair. Carl carefully let Valentin free of his lips, kissing the tip of his spent member with great reverence. He pulled Valentin up into his arms and kissed him again, teasing his tongue into Valentin’s mouth so he could taste himself. Valentin sucked on it greedily, pulling on Carl’s shirt. He made an unhappy noise when Carl pulled away from him.
“Let me get you out of your shoes and trousers, my beauty. I want another helping of you.”
Valentin laughed and began wriggling out of his clothes, eager for another go.
^^ Seconded and thirded and fourthed and everythinged. Jeez, James. How do you.
Looks like you’re ready for your pat down sir.
“Come on Freak, or I’m calling bullshit!”
Wesley spread this legs further apart, pushing his hips more forward. Brandon just stood across the elevator and stared. Sure he was practically salivating, but he wasn’t moving. And Wesley wanted him to move.
“I should spank you…” Brandon’s eyes were wholly focused at his zip and Wesley wiggled for his benefit.
“You could try.”
He dropped one hand down, dragging his nails slowly up his thigh. He could just about hear the scratch of them against the denim. Brandon must have heard it too, his tongue snaked out over his lip and he leered.
“I didn’t buy you that shirt, did I?”
Wesley slid his hand up under the hem, hooking his thumb on the edge and pulling it up a bit.
Brandon jerked forward slightly, making Wesley grin, but he caught himself and pressed both palms into the wall behind him.
“Then you won’t be unhappy when I rip it open.”
Wesley shifted his wrist and dipped the tip of his finger under his waistband. He sighed as he rubbed along the skin there.
Brandon watched avidly as Wesley shivered at the touch of his own hand.
“You’d like it better if I did that.”
Wesley inhaled sharply as he dragged his nails over the soft, sensitive skin of his lower belly. He moaned and closed his eyes as he dipped his fingers lower, to pull at the hair there. His skin tingled fantastically.
“But you aren’t doing it are you?”
“I am going to spank you. Thoroughly.”
Wesley laughed at him. Brandon was chewing his lips, gaze fixed on Wesley’s fingers. Had he known how this kind of teasing affected his freak, he’d have done it ages ago. He moaned a bit louder and popped the button on his jeans, rubbing his hand down to palm his growing bulge.
Brandon made a strangled noise and lunged.
“You lose!” Wesley laughed as Brandon grabbed him around the waist and shoulder, about to pull him close, when there was a ding.
“Shit!” Brandon growled, stealing a quick kiss just as the doors opened.
Wesley giggled and danced away, out the doors, as a flood of office workers came in. Brandon just stayed on, shaking his head. He rubbed his eyes and laughed then his phone buzzed.
> Suite 1617. Glass windows. My ass leave a nice spot.
Brandon was off at the next floor.
“But You Promised” Rated: Mature (5+1, mentions of sex, angst, fluff, kid!Thor, kid!Loki, cheating, drunk!Loki/Thor, punishment, death)
Five times Loki kept his promise, and one time he didn’t.
*There IS NO timeline, so don’t yell at me about it.
Brandon’s phone finally rang. He seized it up instantly.
“Baby where are you?”
His heart sank when it wasn’t Wesley.
“Brandon? This is Kenneth.”
“Where the fuck is he?”
“Don’t give me that shit. Where. Is. He.”More Here
GASP. Still shaking…
“I’ll be gone forever, practically,” Erik says, angry at the tremulous break in his voice. “What if something happens and I can’t get back home?”
It’s summer camp, Erik. It’s supposed to be fun. Even in his head, Erik can detect a faint note of amusement and he scowls. This isn’t a joke; he’s going to be gone for 2 whole months and the other kids will probably be jerks and what if he loses control and-
Charles pads quietly over to where he’s sprawled on the edge of the couch, butting his head up under Erik’s chin in apology. More fondly, I have the utmost confidence that you will be able to survive the tortures of summer camp and take care of yourself, Erik. Haven’t we been practicing all these months? You would be a marvel even without all the progress we’ve been making.
Erik huffs, but he doesn’t deny it; he knows he’s gotten better - much better - at controlling his powers since Charles came into his life, since he saw a flash of black and white dart out into the road and reached out automatically, grinding the oncoming car to a halt. The sudden surprise and fear that clutched at him, that someone might have seen him slowly trickled away when the cat stopped in the middle of road, sat back on his haunches and gazed steadily back at Erik. Oh, my friend, you have no idea how extraordinary you really are, do you? had rung clear in his head.
He and Charles have been together since then, and he doesn’t want that to change. And that’s the real problem isn’t it? Erik knows he’ll be okay, but he doesn’t know that Charles will; Charles who is stupid and reckless and always wandering off to get in trouble trying to find other mutants; Charles who is brilliant, but still falls for the laser pointer trick every time; Charles who is his best friend.
Erik closes his eyes, lids pressed tightly down to stem his sudden tears. It doesn’t work. A gentle rasp against his cheek - Charles, he thinks - and another, as Charles laps at the salty dampness of his skin before gently pressing his nose against Erik’s.
It’ll be okay, Erik, I promise.
Erik nods. He doesn’t open his eyes until he hears Mama call his name. The bus is here. He has to go.
“Charles who is brilliant, but still falls for the laser pointer trick every time;”
The image is too cute..!
Michael closed his eyes and laid his head back against the arm of the old sofa. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, springs stuck into his back and stuffing missing, making uncomfortable dips in the cushions, but it was better than the hard ground that he’d been sleeping on for several weeks now.
Being on the run was beginning to take it’s toll on his body and his mind. He hadn’t even bothered to check the perimeter to see if there was enemies laying in wait for some poor fool, like him, to walk into the abandon farmhouse so they could attack and kill him. None of that even crossed his mind and before he knew it he was fast asleep, thrown into a world that didn’t exist, that wouldn’t exist.
“Will you come here and give me hand with this?” Michael asked the young man that had been watching him work for the past half hour or so. He looked up from the pile of hay he had his pitch fork buried in and turned to looked at the figure in the distance.
“How am I supposed to help when we only have one pitchfork?” The young man called back with a smile across his ruby lips.
Michael knew this man, boy rather, was the young master of the estate, home from college for the summer and being a farmhand who only trending to the horses, Michael had no right to ask him for help. If memory served him correctly the young man’s name was James.
“I don’t know,” Michael said honestly, “but if you do, I’ll give you something.”
“What is it you would give me?” James must have known he was of a much lower class than him but the way he voiced his question wasn’t as though he thought Michael had nothing to offer a rich boy like him. It was honest curiosity in his voice and that made Michael’s smile broaden.
“I’ll give you this,” He said holding up his hand as if he was actually holding something between his thumb and index finger, at James’ distance he couldn’t know if he really had anything at all.
“And what is that?” James asked squinting his eyes to try to see what Michael held.
“Help me and find out,” Michael grinned as he pretended to pocket the fake reward.
James stood his ground for a few more moments before he smiled and started down the steps and across the short distance between them. “Okay, how can I help?”
“You have hands, don’t you?” Michael leaned against the pitchfork and looked down at James’ hands which were both in his pockets. The boy responded by removing his hands from his pockets and holding them out for Michael’s inspection. They were beautifully fair, unmarked by hard labor and probably soft to hold.
Michael couldn’t pull his eyes away from those hands. He couldn’t help but imagine those hands draped around his neck or those fingertips ghosting over his bare chest as he hovered over James’ smaller frame or those short nails digging trails down his back as he arched and called out Michael’s name.
“What did you want them for?” James asked with a gentle laugh.
Michael swallowed hard, a better question was what didn’t he want those beautiful hands for. “This, take this,” he held out the pitchfork.
James looked at the tool’s wooden handle then walked closer to Michael and snatched the gloves from his workman’s belt. He pulled them on, glancing at Michael who was watching him expectantly, then grabbed the handle of the pitchfork. He looked at Michael again then dug the tool deeper into the pile of hay and lifted it. “Where to?”
Michael tried to suppress a smile as he pointed toward the large cart that was already over flowing with hay and stepped back out of the way.
James nodded and took a few steps closer to the cart, the pitchfork stacked high with hay. He tossed the hay onto the pile but all it did was slide right off, back onto the ground he had just moved it from. A frown stretched across his ruby lips when he looked over at Michael who was laughing at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“I knew that would happen,” Michael grinned taking back the pitchfork.
“To see if you would actually do it.”
James’ frown vanished and a smile took it’s place, a light laugh even escaped him.“Well, I helped you, what’s my reward? Knowing I helped someone?” James asked raising his eyebrows.
Michael woke with start having been ripped from the dream at the sound of gunfire, he immediately rolled off the sofa to get onto the ground and grab his gun. He switched off the safety and moved around the back of the sofa. He pressed his back to the back of the sofa so he was better covered and held his breath.
He waited, waited for any little noise to indicate movement in the farmhouse, a floorboard, a door hinge or even a deep breath. He could be safe, the gunfire could have been far off or even in his dream. God, knows he had woken to the same sound a million times before.
When he felt it was safe, he crawled around the side of the sofa and peered around the corner. He saw and heard no one so he rounded to the front of the sofa and waited then sat back on the sofa when he was sure no one was in the farmhouse, or at least not in this room.
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was still holding as he switched the safety back on. He rested his head back on the arm and closed his eyes again, letting out another long, slow breath.
If it had been in his dream then why? He would never have shot James and they weren’t on a battlefield, they had been in the country somewhere, on an estate that no longer existed or never existed to begin with. Maybe it was because the last time he saw James, the last time he was about to kiss James, they were under heavy fire and separated and in the dream James’ reward was going to be a kiss.
She marched him along like she had a plan. Wesley was still too distracted over Brandon to pay much attention though.
“Where are we going?”
Wes looked around and it seemed fairly deserted. He spotted a small hand written sign duct taped to a telephone pole. It said “holding” with an arrow. Mallory dragged him into the church basement with a matching sign on the side door. The bored kid sitting at the entrance pointed up without looking at them. Wes tried to protest a little but she glared and he grew quiet. They went up the indicated stairs, Mallory trying doors until one opened. She peeked in then shoved Wesley through before carefully sliding in and shutting the door. She made a show of locking the door.
“What are you doing…” Wesley stood, befuddled.
Mallory grabbed him by the hair and kissed him before he finished. Wesley struggled in her arms, liking the prospect but very frightened of the reality. They careened about the empty storage room until she had him against the wall and somewhat off balance. She shoved his backpack from his shoulders while her tongue plundered his mouth. His hands scrabbled at her shoulders as she lifted him, making him wrap his legs around her hips.
“Wait… wait…” he managed to pant before she silenced him with her mouth.
Her hands were pretty large and Wesley made a sort of whine in his throat when she palmed his buttocks. The squeese she gave him made him all kids of hot, then she gave him a smack and he barely choked back a wail.
“Wait for what? We both need to expend some energy and my assignment is to keep you out of the way. Seems perfect.”
She angled back a bit, taking her hands off Wesley’s bottom. He had to grip her all the more tightly with thighs and hands so as not to fall.
“No… I mean… “
There was her mouth again, cutting off his reply. He could feel her fingers working on the button of his trousers and he flushed hot. He didn’t want this, really, but he was so hard now he didn’t know what he really wanted. When she shifted to chewing under his jaw, Wesley tried to speak but only little gasping sobs seemed to come out. He needed to get a grip.
“No… Stop… Come onnn stop…”
Wesley shifted in her arms, but she was holding him too high to get his feet to the floor. That pissed him off enough to get him moving. He shoved his heels to the insides of her knees as he pushed. She didn’t let go. They crumpled down, rolling along the floor. She was laughing, like his freak and it was more than a little creepy.
“Get off…” he panted, wriggling for some sort of purchase.
He shifted his hand to control her pinkie finger and it did make her let go of his cheek but she still had a good grip on his hair and used it. She jerked him to his knees then pulled until he went sprawling on the floor.
“That’s right little man. Show me what you’ve got!” she growled.
Wesley’s eyes went big. The deja vu was entirely too much. Everything slowed to a crawl as barely stopped himself from giving her a throat strike, but he still gave her a good shot to the side of the head and it stunned her enough to let go. He quickly rolled out of her reach and towards the door. He snatched up his pack as he fumbled with his zip. She tackled him around the knees and brought them both to the ground. She easily pulled herself over him, pinning him down with her weight balanced above his knees. She had both his wrists in her hands and grinned up at him from where her chin rested on his belly.
“I have a message for you. Brandon told me I should say this if you seemed reluctant. ‘One freebie as payback for Paris, little virgin’. Does that make sense to you?”
“Yeah…” Wesley swallowed. He didn’t want payback, even though he did sort of really want her. Even with permission, he just… he couldn’t. He couldn’t. “It does. But I can’t.”
She rubbed her cheek along his zip. He moaned.
“You want to.”
“I do. Please stop… please…”
She rubbed again, her chin pressing along his stiff length. He whined and tried to wriggle away.
“Please…” He quivered his lip at her and let his eyes go big. It was even easier when it wasn’t an act. Mallory chewed her lip for a moment then let go of his wrists.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you two were… together…”
She slid away and stood, holding out her hand to give Wesley a hand up. Wesley took it and let her pull him up with ease. She was really strong. It would have been a lot of fun to let her knock him around but not without his freak. It always had to be them first.
“Yeah… ” He hadn’t worn his ring. Not for work, even though Brandon wore his. “Brandon’s ring isn’t for show.”
“I’m sorry.” She pulled him into a gentle hug. “I didn’t know. It wasn’t in the file.”
He smiled weakly at her.
“It wouldn’t be. We only did it like a week ago… It’s a long story. Just… Well I would have. But I can’t. But I like you. I hope you aren’t angry.”
“I’m only a little angry I didn’t get to have you. But I’ll live.” She winked at him and they both laughed a little. “Now I understand why you’re frantic. I’m sorry I pushed things.”
“It’s ok. He told you to, didn’t he? He knew I liked you. He was trying to be nice to me. He likes being nice to me.”
Mallory just squeesed his hand and smiled. She straightened his hair and settled his backpack onto his shoulders, then kissed him on the forehead.
“Let’s go back to HQ. You’ll worry less when you see all the monitoring.”
Wesley nodded, feeling nothing but relief and gratitude. Mallory was good. And now she understood and would help. Maybe they could hire her later on. She didn’t belong with these idiots, they’d only screw her over.
I MISSED THE WEDDING!!!
“Is this for me? Oh Erik, you shouldn’t have.”
I want a shark plushie like that Q_Q
“Think about me when you hold him”
“It’s a him? I just named it Elizabeth”
“Erik, dear, have you seen Lizzie?” Charles called out from their bedroom. “I very distinctly remember putting her out of the way when we were cleaning the house yesterday!”
Erik, who was in the kitchen, eyed the cabinets above the sink — the only place where Charles couldn’t reach, not without Erik’s help, anyway — for a moment. “I don’t know, Charles, I haven’t seen it since yesterday!”
“Right,” Charles hollered back before he continued to search for the plush toy all around the house.
Some men might not have minded much when their significant other grew so attached to a plush toy — so much so that they named it ‘Elizabeth’ and insist that she — it — whatever — have a say in things when it came to sleeping arrangements, but Erik had had just about enough. While it was true that he himself had bought Elizabeth for Charles (just because Charles had fondly told Erik once that he looked like a shark), he hadn’t expected the younger man to grow so fond of it.
“If you so much as think about making a sound, Lizzie,” Erik threatened in a low, deadly voice as he glared at the cabinet doors, “you’ll be donated to the kindergartens down the street before you can scream for help.”
As the morning stretched into the afternoon, Charles halted his search for Elizabeth, and decided to look again later that evening.
Erik couldn’t help but feel proud of the way he’d handled things.
Job well done, Lehnsherr, he kept telling himself. Job well done.
I can’t, it is so adorable and cute….!!!! I HOPE THERE”S MORE
Brandon removing his clothes had a surreal quality about it that I might have liked in some other circumstances. Every movement was slow and languid. His shirt fluttered like a butterfly and took a really long time to hit the floor. Maybe that was just the roofie. Must have been because it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to things. And I was getting sort of itchy. And really hot. One of his stupid long fingers teased over my nipple and it felt like the best thing ever, even through my clothes. I tried to arch into his hand but he took it away too fast.
“Look how hot you are for me, Snow White.”
I tried to kick him because this Snow White shit was getting real old, but all’s I managed to do was splay my knees open. He licked his lips and dragged his nails over my belly. I hoped that wasn’t me making that racket but it probably was. He grinned at me with all those teeth and leapt. He probably ripped my pants in his rush to get at me, but my judgement was pretty off at this point, so I wasn’t totally sure. He forcibly yanked them down over my thighs, shoving my shirt and undershirt up out of his way.
“Shit, you’re gorgeous…”
His hands rubbed over my belly and I moaned. When he touched me, the itch stopped and the heat grew. I never wanted his hands to stop touching me. He knelt on the floor between my legs, dragging my pants down past my knees. I wanted him like air.
“Come ON!” I howled, but it just sounded like some cat making noise.
He laughed as he rolled my underwear down,” Mmmm 2xist. You really aren’t as straight as you like to think, are you?”
They were a joke gift from Barry. Maybe I should be kinda worried about that. Later though. Because now he was rubbing his cheek on my dick. It was tickly and his breath hot over my skin. I tried to reach for his hair but my hand just flopped around. He laughed again and took it, licking along my palm. I whined really loud until he started sucking my fingers into his giant mouth. Something that simple shouldn’t have felt like it did. Every nerve lit up with pleasure, from my hair to my toes. My hips came right up off the bed, my dick poking him under the chin.
“Mmm yes, you are eager. Hello my friend. I can’t wait to know you better.”
He was talking to my dick like it was a person or something. It would have been a little creepy except he’d swallowed me down like a ravenous hyena and my brain like literally just stopped working right then. He sucked and slurped like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Shit if I ever watched him eat now I’d just go hard. The feel of his mouth on me was fantastic. Hot, slick and greedy. He was so greedy, like he’d never have enough. He worked his way around, up, down and everywhere, like he was seeing what worked for me. Like he might even want me to enjoy some of this. It was freaking me out.
“Mmmm you like it easy, my little beauty. Gentle. Yesss, I will pamper you very gently….”
The little butterfly like flicks of his tongue were killing me. I did like it easy and soft and the teasing mouthing he was giving me had me panting and whining with want.
That sounded like it should. Maybe my brain could only handle single words at this point. He grinned down at me, all scary teeth and lust, then sucked me down to the root. He pressed my knees apart with his shoulders. It sort of hurt because my pants were still around my ankles, trapping them together and I’m not all that flexible. He made up for that with literally the best blow job I’d ever had in my life. He obviously enjoyed doing this, a lot, and he was obviously enjoying making me flop around and howl. I could see it in his eyes. He knew he’d make me his slave for this alone. As if I didn’t want him enough just for the power thing I have, here he was making me submit through pleasure. Ok not making me submit, submitting is what I do, but actively ruining me for anything else. Once he got his throat into the mix I was done. I was shaking and near tears when I came. I was so far down his throat he didn’t even have to swallow. He let me go, after a bit, with a wet pop. I shuddered from the overload when my dick hit my own belly.
I was totally fucked now and he hadn’t even got his dick in yet.
dicks were raised
X-Men Reverse Bang Prompt # 1023
After finding out he doesn’t going to live long, Erik decided to do things he wanted to do but didn’t have the courage to—including asking his crush out for a date—a stranger who he saw everyday commuting. He didn’t know they would actually be together. Any details up to writers. Prefer good ending: so Erik was mistaken in the beginning.
One of my xmrb prompts! :)
Unfortunately my writer went MIA in the beginning, so there’s only art here.Got in contact with her! :)
I’ve never done this before, so pardon me if it’s not that great. This sort of relates to the plot, but more like years later.
On Charles’s office desk at school, there is a little jar with a preserved lump of flesh in it. Students pass it by with disgust or curiosity, never asking about it. There’s a label on it proclaiming that it came from one “Lehnsherr, Erik” a few years ago, but other than that there’s no clue as to what it is exactly or who the man is came from could be. Some speculate a step-brother, or uncle, or maybe even their professor’s best friend, but no one is willing to seek out the information. For one, Charles is only personal about his former students and his baby sister. They know that his sister is “sort of” dating an alumni, and there’s no Erik Lehnsherr in any of the yearbooks. In the years since it showed up on his desk, people have passed it by in wonder, forming theories and making up a story about it. A few medical students classify it as some sort of brain tumor, and the stories get wilder and wilder.
Charles clears it up on a Friday afternoon. It was his last class of the day, and Valentines day to boot. He knew that many of his students skipped for dinner dates and movies, finding his room half full. Most of his favorites are were, including Kitty Pryde and Cassie Lang, putting him a little more at ease. The jar was in his hand, carefully set onto the podium as the class started. “Today we’re going to talk about a different sort of mutation. It’s related to genetics, as tumors usually are, but brain cancer can affect even the most healthy of people.” He started his lesson off with a slide, as usual.
The students listened attentively as he spoke, jotting down notes and watching him tap the little jar every so often. Notes were passed as the time started to go by, and once class was half over, they noticed their Professor walk to the far end of the room to grab a waist coat and jacket. They matched his suit pants, and it garnered a few giggles. Their professor was going on a date after his lecture, which would have been even more amusing if a note hadn’t gone around that he might be visiting whomever the tumor belonged to. The atmosphere in the room seemed to change after that, even as they watched him smile fondly at the jar and straighten his tie.
“That’s all the lecture I have today,” he announced, nearly a half an hour left to the class. Nobody moved, watching him start to pack up. From the back of the class, someone spoke up.
“Professor Xavier, what happened to Erik? Who was he?” Charles glanced up from his paperwork, smiling shyly and closing his breifcase. He pulled up his chair to sit in front of the class, folding his hands on his lap.
“Erik Lehnsherr is the name of my partner. We’re both far too old for the term ‘boyfriends,’ I suppose. As you all have guessed, this is his. He’s an athletic man, tall and lean, jogged the same route every day for a year before work, save for three or so days. Changed those habits once the cancer was found. Hardly smoked a day in his life, rarely drank until he was diagnosed.” He held the little jar to the light, looking it over again. “He was from Germany, moved here at twenty five to support his mother as an engineer. She passed away battling cancer, the same affliction as he son. Erik’s the love of my life, the only person aside from Raven who matters so much. I watched him jog his route every day before he knew, and then he stopped for three days. The morning he returned, he got up earlier so he could go to Hank’s to get a dozen roses, then jogged all the way to the park where we’d see one another. I’ll never forget how he asked me out.” Charles chuckled, still smiling to the jar. “‘Excuse me, I’m going to die soon and I really like you. Would you go out on a date with me?’ Not the smoothest way I’d ever been asked out, and for a moment I thought he was joking, but he was entirely honest with me. We ended up spending the whole day together, talking about books and chess and our childhoods. It was almost an instant connection.” There were a couple of sniffles from various students, all assuming the same thing.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Professor,” Kitty spoke, her voice cracking a little. At that, Charles looked quite alarmed.
“Loss? Oh no, you mustn’t assume. Erik is very much alive. He has his days, and he had hs days before and after the surgery, but he does well. He only changed his jogging route to accomodate for my inferior skill, and while he used to get terrible headaches and still has his moments of irritablity, I assure you that he’s still with us.” The class all stared, dumfounded by this new information. Their professor was keeping his still living boyfriend’s three year old brain tumor on his desk as if it were a treasured keepsake.
“Well, it’s simple, you see. Were it not for this cluster of mutated cells, Erik and I would never be together. He has no one else, and he didn’t want to be alone while going through this. His high chance of dying from a rare tumor that usually presents itself in children gave him that little bit of courage he needed to break away from the monotany of a life of work and get a little more social. I admit, it’s a little bit morbid, but it brought us together. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ve just gotten a text from the man in question and we’ve got a reservation to make. I’ll see you all on Monday.” Charles picked up his things and strolled out of the room, leaving his students befuddled. Erik waited for him by his car, dressed in a sleek black suit and silver tie.
“How was class today?”
adfj;dsklfj I just really adore your art and wanted to write something for it
Belated reblog! AHHHHHH thank you for the one shot!!! TvT! This is wonderful!!!! <3<3
Keeping the tumor-in-the-jar on the desk is……so Charles lol
THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYES… HAPPY TEARS
“Weren’t you just here a couple of hours ago?”
“Yes. No.” Erik clears his throat. “Yes. It’s been a long work day.”
The man in the food truck grins; the teasing expression stays on his face, leaving Erik sure he should be backing away, tacos be damned. “You’ve been here every day this week,” Food Truck Man says. “There are a dozen other food trucks. Variety is the spice of life, isn’t it?”
Erik looks him over: the white button-down shirt that frames his shoulders so well, the hint of reddening skin visible over the last button he bothered with, the way his eyebrow arches, the pair of freckles on his nose, standing out as if to accentuate its curved shape…
“Not necessarily,” Erik says.
“Two chicken tacos with extra pico de gallo coming up.”
Erik has to walk away once he gets them, of course, kicking himself for not at least asking for Food Truck Man’s phone number. But when he finishes the second, he notices the note slipped in under a few stray bits of tomato and onion and cilantro.
Charles Xavier. 646-555-0120.
His wallet is going to smell like cumin now, but Erik isn’t losing that phone number.
Awwwwww. Tongue-tied Erik and take-charge Charles are so cute!
“I am no more than just another stolen relic.”
“yes, and I am the one who has stolen you.”
The words gyrated through Loki’s mind, tormenting and taunting him until he fled to his room, quaking all over as he huddled on the blankets covering his mattress. He didn’t try to wrap the blankets around himself, and instead drew his knees to his chest, tucking his head against his legs and making himself as small as possible.
Perhaps now they won’t find him. Perhaps now Allfather won’t have reason to be ashamed of him.
Minutes (or perhaps hours) later, he heard the distinct creak of his door opening. Loki flinches, but he instinctively knows his visitor is certainly not Odin or any of the palace guards. There is no overwhelming presence surging into the room.
Instead, as he carefully lifts his gaze, Loki finds Thor bounding onto the mattress to join him, blue eyes wide and expression almost comically worried.
“Brother,” Thor reaches for him concernedly, but Loki shoves him away, curling into himself again.
“I’m not your brother,” he says miserably, flinching away again as Thor touches his shoulder. “I never was.”
He can almost feel Thor’s frown deepen, and for a brief moment, Loki almost dissolves into laughter at his false sibling’s misguided innocence. “I am,” he begins, gaining strength from the hand carefully squeezing his shoulder. “I am one of them.”
“Who?” Thor says immediately, moving to hug him from behind. “What are you?”
“Jotun,” Loki spits, the word foul even on his own tongue, despite the fact that he knows it to be true.
But, rather than jerking away and fleeing, as Loki feared, Thor simply tightens his arms and tucks his chin over Loki’s shoulder. “You are still my brother.”
Both stunned and unaccountably relieved, Loki scrambles away and rises to his feet once he manages to escape the confines of his bed. “I am a monster, Thor,” he says unsteadily, as though explaining a very obvious mistake his false sibling has made during one of their lessons. “I’m nothing more than another of the Allfather’s stolen relics.”
Thor grins at him, and rather than attacking, he bounds off the mattress and grabs hold of Loki’s hands with his own, holding his false sibling still long enough to kiss him firmly on the lips.
“Yes,” he agrees, but his expression softens as he brushes the tears on Loki’s cheeks away with careful fingertips. “But I am the one who has stolen you, Loki.”