TheMadSlasher loves Iceman. Specifically, the Iceman from the X-Men Animated Series episode "Cold Comfort." He even wrote a fanfic following the events, called "Cryogenic Savagery," which can be found at Aff.net and Y-Gal. It's good stuff.
As a special request, he wanted to start an RP with that Iceman and my uber-slut version of Wolverine, to better develop Bobby's sexual side. Obviously I wasn't about to say no! :D
This was that RP. Enjoy!
~*~
LOGAN: *smirks around his smoldering cigar; he wears a leather jacket, boots, and gloves, and nothing else.* "Here ya go, Frosty...me, a smoky basement, all the leather ya could ever wanna wear, an' a sling ta do the fuckin' in. Spent all day settin' this up...now I wanna spend all night with ya wearin' it out." *he gestures to a pile of leather clothes laid out for Bobby to wear. Their scent and the scent of his cigar are distilled into a masculine incense that permeates the room.* "Go ahead, stud...anythin' ya want. You been a good friend ta me when I needed one...now it's time ta return the favor."
BOBBY: [gulps and goes scarlet as he looks at the sight. This is better than the best dude-porn ever... ohfuckohfuckohfuck. He doesn't take long before the suit is tossed and he's wearing something very like his typical leather punk-type outfit, boots, gloves, modern jacket, but no shirt this time. He then walks over to Logan..] "Jeez, Logan... thanks! Big time thanks! So, well, got a big menu to pick from. Like Choose-Your-Own-Porno-Adventure..." You totally fucking fail at charm, Drake!! "So.. speaking of the menu...." [he manages to smirk, and finally picks up enough impulsive courage to pluck the cigar from Logan's lips before moving in to kiss the Canadian; his tongue savors the smoky flavor of the wildman and he groans slightly]
LOGAN: *returns Bobby's kiss hotly, snarling in pleasure, and pulls the other man to him, grinding their leather-clad crotches together while his gloved hands run all along Bobby's smooth, exposed flesh. Even when he breaks the kiss, his hands don't stop moving over the Iceman's torso* "Tell ole Logan what'cha want, pal...where ya wanna start? Got my cabin all to ourselves, the whole night. Wanna jack off right here? 69 under th'stars on the roof? Fuck me on my wolf rug in front'a the fire?" *his voice vibrates through the room, almost as heady as the smoke that still wafts from the cigar as his dark eyes bore into Bobby, the smirk on his face dark and sensual*
BOBBY: [respectfully returns the cigar to the Canadian's mouth, slightly sheepish after quickly snatching it away... don't worry, you don't have a faceful of claw... the chuckle crept up his throat again, and his smirk spread across his scarlet face] "All of the above. And then some. I always wanted to try a few things out... and you're hotter than any leatherdaddy type I've seen in any porn film."
LOGAN: "Thanks for that." *His voice is sincere. He takes the cigar back into his mouth for a long, second drag, then takes it out and kisses Bobby again, the leftover smoke still on his breath as he reaches into the leather pants and pulls out the cryokinetic's cock, stroking it while his lips and tongue work Bobby's mouth, the stubble on his face scratchy but his lips soft and pliant*
BOBBY: The accountant groans again and tries to stifle any laughter at how completely out of his kinkier fantasies this entire moment actually is. The Twilight Zone apparently has a sexy part... he groans again at the taste of the smoke and shivers at the feel of the thick fingers gripping his steel-hard length. His own hands rake up Logan's body, through the elder man's chest fur, and latch onto his nipples. He rolled the firm skin between his fingertips. "Oh fuck.... I'm so fucking hard right now Logan...." he knew what he wanted to do, and knew Logan was willing to do it, yet the image before him seemed to defy that. Fuck the Leather-Daddy. If they ever made a film like that I'd buy ten copies. "Goddammit I wanna fuck you," he said quickly, but eagerly.
LOGAN: *lets out a moan from the attention to his nipples* "Keep playin' with those, an' I ain't gonna argue one fuckin' bit." *His pants drop from his hairy legs and ass, throbbing cock and churning balls springing into view as the feral climbs into the sling, reaches over to the bedside table, and throws his friend the lube.* "Ya know what to do, Popsicle. But get your ass up here...I wanna suck you off while you get me prepped." *his intense eyes stare at Bobby's cock with an almost primal hunger*
BOBBY: At that moment, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He quickly picked up the lube and started drenching his fingers with it. He moved his hips close to the top of the sling, where Logan's ravenous maw lay. The dripping head of his cock moved towards the elder man's lips and a sole finger crept downwards towards Logan's entry. "Thank you... Logan... always wanted to fuck a Leather Daddy but you know them, ninety-seven percent of the time just want something without a spine. And last time I checked, my spine was still in place."
LOGAN: "Damn straight it is...'s why I want'cha ta do this with me..." *then there are no more words from the feral, only grunts and groans that vibrate through the base of Bobby's shaft as he takes the entire thing and swallows it down, his tongue and lips working their unique magic on the meat before him as his own cock leaks, legs spread wide to allow Bobby's fingers the entry he needs*
BOBBY: Every single word practically travelled to his cock, and the sensations were suddenly joined by the warm and swirling and sucking heat of the shorter man's mouth. Bobby's gaze surveyed the sight below; so much leather and muscle and fur and that thick cock and heavy balls and his fingers slowly and delicately moving into this amazingly hot man's ass... "Shit, Logan your mouth is magic, the real kind, not Copperfield's crap...." he feels his own precum begin to leak as the constriction around his fingers rapidly falls. "You're almost ready, right?"
LOGAN: *pulls off for a minute* "Ta get fucked? You bet. Ta stop suckin' this gorgeous prick? Not even close." *with a dark chuckle, he dives back onto Bobby's cock with even more gusto than before, determined to milk every last drop of pleasure he can out of his friend with his mouth before his ass gets to work*
BOBBY: "Can't say you lack in enthusiasm!" He replied quickly through shuddering breaths. His chest rose and fell as droplets of sweat trailed through the ridges and valleys of his muscled body. Thank fuck we have all night, he thought as he looked over Logan again.... all the ideas of things to do with him were piling up to the point he should've kept a spreadsheet of them. He wanted him, the man's cock, balls, ass, nipples, everything... even the rugged jawline... he thought of sucking the elder man's gloved fingers and tasting the lingering tobacco on them... first things first, he thought as he managed to coax his cock away from the shorter man's tongue. "Oh man, please, no more or I'll blow too quick...." An idea began forming at the back of his mind.
LOGAN: *looks a little disappointed, but brightens up visibly when he sees the look in Bobby's eyes* "Awright, Frosty. It's yer party, an' chances are I'm gonna love whatever you got planned. So go ahead babe...show me what'cha got." *The challenge in his voice is as erotically charged as the sight of him in the sling, precum glittering in a trail from his cock to his furry abdomen, with more pulsing out all the time. He's clearly in heat now, the passion and primality of the animal mixed with the respect and affection of the man into one sweaty, sexual creature*
BOBBY: The idea at the back of his head felt... wrong. And right. He didn't know how to feel about it... but somehow it only made his cock harder. He's my friend, not my father... but... he then looked into Logan's eyes, but part of him didn't want to ask this. "When I fuck you.. can I... would you want me to call you Dad Logan or? I mean... you look the part." His tone still was hesitant, but the preseed dripping from his manhood kept coming as the head of his cock settled between the elder man's rock hard buttcheeks.
LOGAN: *looks at Bobby for a long moment, and then nods* "If that's what'cha want, then sure...I'll be 'Dad' for ya." *His legs spread wider, to accommodate the head of the shaft pressing between them, and he smiles* "So go ahead, boy...fuck yer Daddy, like ya know ya deserve to."
BOBBY: I don't know whether to feel sick with myself or turned on so fucking much... he began to press forward, his breaths shuddered as he felt Logan's ass open. The constricting heat gave no resistance as his shaft disappeared inch after inch into the elder man. "Oh shit...." he said as his fingers began to dig into Logan's shoulders, "Dad Logan... you're so fucking hot and you feel awesome inside. Just this untamed, untamable leather daddy, you're rebellion-porn..." in spite of his mixed feelings, his cock only felt painfully hard, as if it were about to burst.
LOGAN: "Like Dad, like son, kid," *his eyes slide closed as he lets out a guttural growl of untamable pleasure* "Yer as much a fuckin' rebel as I am, boy...don't you ever forget that...yeah...aww, FUCK yeah..." *His encouraging speech devolves into guttural growls and moans of pleasure as he's filled so completely with Bobby's cock*
BOBBY: The accountant's motions accelerate and even a slight smirk makes its way back onto his face as he moves his length in and out of the feral in erratic, slightly jerky thrusts of varying depth. "Hell yeah, Dad Logan," he replied, "I'm not gonna call you 'Sir', that's for sure Dad. Oh man you take my cock so fucking well, you look so damn hot all spread out for me, and you want it so fucking much...." Energy began to pool in his balls, but he felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach... you're as much a rebel as I am... Logan's words somehow managed at that moment to kill all the shame, either short-circuiting the logic or completing it in some way he didn't get yet. "You hot arrogant leather dad, taking your son's cock and loving it..."
LOGAN: "You bet'cher sweet ass I'm lovin' it...yeah! YEAH!" *Logan's snarling in pleasure now, writhing under his friend/son's cock as he clutches the chains holding up the sling for support. His whole body glistens with sweat, his eyes sparkling with intensity, fellowship, defiance, and that scorching lust that always seems to smolder at the core of his being, fanned into full flame by the fucking* "Fuckin' plow yer Daddy like ya always wanted to! I fuckin' love it, boy, I need it! Harder, babe, you c'n do it, yer so fuckin' hot, an' ya got me so fuckin' horny...FUCK ME, DRAKE!"
BOBBY: The sheer energy and rage and pleasure that coursed through Logan's thrashing body... the snarling voice.. the implicit challenge, not to conquer but to rise up... the respect and desire and need of the moment... and the aching heat in his balls... all finally reach a peak. It doesn't take long... only a few more deep, long, crown-to-balls-deep thrusts of his cock before the younger man gasps and yells and fills the elder man with seed. "Hell yeah, Dad! I'm gonna fill you as long and deep as you want it!" He gasped with each burst he sent into Logan's body, his brow furrowed and teeth clenched as his synapses tore apart with pleasure.
LOGAN: "Yeah, Bobby, shoot it in me, don't stop fuckin', gettin' close...awww FUUUUUCK!" *The shout comes at the top of his lungs as his whole body convulses, writhing in the grip of the best orgasm he's had in weeks as his cock pulses and spits in his frantically-jerking gloved fist. Ropes of glittering seed splash across his furry torso as he grunts, groans, and pants, his churning, writhing body finally coming to rest after what feel like minutes of unadulterated bliss at the hands of his rebellious young friend* "fuck...Drake...that was fuckin' incredible..."
BOBBY: The cryokinetic watches through hazy vision as seismic shocks tear through Logan's body. His chest rises and falls at a slower rhythm to the elder man. After a few moments of quiet, he nodded. "Yeah.... that was a damn good lay...." he then paused again. "Sorry if... that was a creepy thing to ask," he said again in a hesitant tone.
LOGAN: *lets out a chuckle* "I been asked ta do weirder." *grabbing a towel to mop himself up, he offers one to Bobby, and a bottle of water as well* "It was kinda hot, tell ya th' truth...I c'n see why Slim loves fuckin' around with his dad so much."
BOBBY: [gratefully accepts the towel and the water bottle with a smile and nod] "Yeah.... you're like the opposite of all of 'em... but it was still hot calling you that... I'm sure Hank would Freud me to pieces over it. None of it makes sense."
LOGAN: "One thing I learned a long time ago," *takes a swig of his own water as he climbs out of the sling* "is that sex don't always gotta make sense, long as it feels good an' don't hurt nobody."
BOBBY: The accountant nods. He doesn't know if it does or doesn't make sense... but at that moment, he didn't care. The night was still young.
~*~
Showing posts with label Iceman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Iceman. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2012
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Wolverine Likes Watching Teammates Sweat
Another day, another Wolverine porn fic. Or so I thought when I first sat down to write this. Turns out, the story contained so many of Logan's thoughts, I figured it might as well be written entirely in his voice.
I think the key word I was going for here was "depraved." Granted, most of my fics are depraved in some point or other, but I just wanted to write some pure, utter filth.
~*~
I fuckin' love bein' supervisor on Danger Room sessions. It's almost as much fun as gettin' to shred stuff in it.
Surprised ya, didn't I? Most people think I'm only inta scrappin'. All-fight, all-the-time. But that ain't me, any more than Frost sits in her 'bu-dwaah' an' drinks champagne all day, or Summers gets all his jollies outta bossin' us around. OK, maybe he does, but that ain't th' point! Point is, we're all more than we seem ta be onna surface.
An' besides bein' a born scrapper, I'm one horny fucker most'a th' time. So, give a guy like me th' job a'watchin' a team like this, an' you bet'cher ass I'm gonna love it.
Take today, f'r instance. it's a straight up, four-on-four team brawl. Only rule is, like always, don't hurt nobody serious-like. The holograms whipped up some big-ass alien moonscape or whatever, but that ain't important.
What is important is the lineup. Blue team is Scotty, Hank, Alex, an' Drake...Cyclops, Beast, Havok, an' Iceman, if ya wanna keep track. Nate, the Russkie, the Elf, an' the Cajun...Cable, Colossus, Nightcrawler, an' Gambit...are Gold team, or as I like ta call it, "Sexy Accents Central." 'Cept fer Cable, every one'a them's got a voice makes my skin crawl. In th' good way, if ya know what I mean.
Ah, hell with it. There ain't a guy down there whose bones I wouldn't jump, given half a shot.
I signal th' start a'the session, an' they're all in action. Cyke an' Havok fire off shots at Colossus at th' same time, figurin' him fer th' biggest threat. Since Cable's the only psychic down there, I figure they might be right...even though that whole techno-virus or whatever is gone from his system, he don't like usin' his powers 'less he's gotta...or when he's in bed.
My mind starts wanderin'...the good part about bein' supervisor. I c'n picture the Summers Brothers under the mistletoe, all naked an' sweaty from a roarin' fire, makin' out an' rubbin' up against each other while Cable's on his knees, servicin' his Dad an' Uncle Alex with that hot mouth. He ain't much fer facial expressions, but he reminds me of that Nine Days song from a few years back...I absolutely love him when he smiles. An' when he smirks, it goes right ta my loins. Guy's one sexy silver daddy, an' it's like he don't even know it. Too obsessed with th' flaws, I guess.
Back in th'real world, Colossus ain't even slowin' down as he marches up ta th' Summerses. His uniform's torched from th' waist up, an' his metal bod is built. Lookin' at him like this is like starin' at a piece of fine art...but when his shirt's off an' there's skin underneath it, that's when I start feelin' all lightheaded. Th' kid may be an artist...damn good one, too...but he's hot enough ta be a fuckin' professional model. I've lost count'a th' times I've wanted ta push him onto his back on a locker room bench, climb on top'a him, an' just sit my ass down on that hard Siberian hot rod. I love a big hard cock inside me just as much as I love givin' it ta someone else good an' hard, an' with Petey I definitely wanna go both ways. Wouldn't be able ta call him Petey Pureheart after that, that's fer damn sure...though Petey Pound-Me-Real-Good has a nice ring to it, too.
Speakin' a goin' both ways, Bobby an' the Elf are keepin' pace with each other nicely. Th' kid's playin' snowball-tag while the Elf teleports, that sexy German laugh a' his echoing in my ears like a silk curtain brushin' over my skin. Drake and I never got on that well...too much alike. Back before I signed on, he was pretty much me, arguin' with One-Eye every chance he got. He turned that anger on Petey, Kurt, an' me when we joined...the original X-Men were the only X-Men, ta him, an' we were the intruders messin' with th' natural order. Can't say I appreciated that, but I understand. Over th' years he's mellowed some, but he never really grew all th' way up, an' 'Crawler's been helpin' with that every chance he gets. Wouldn't surprise me ta walk in on 'em some day, fuckin' on the War Room table, Bobby thrustin' an' groanin' on top while Kurt tailfucks him from below...Damn, it's gettin' hot in here.
No one can see me in th' control booth from behind th' holograms...They ain't gonna care if I give "li'l Logan" a little air.
That's better. Now, where was I?
Hot damn. Th' Cajun an' Hank are makin' like it's the fuckin' Olympics, bouncin' around each other like jackrabbits on speed. Hank's claws are tearin' up LeBeau's coat, so he tosses it aside...doesn't need th'drag...showin' off that lean, wiry bod in th'skintight armor. An' that ass...I used ta think Betsy had every guy on th'team beat in the ass department, but one look at Gumbo from behind, without the trench gettin' in the way, an' all I can think of is how much I wanna kiss those perfect cheeks, an' shove my tongue all the way in between 'em, lickin' his sweet spot till he cries out some mangled French obscenity an' creams me good.
I'd be doin' Hank a disservice if I didn't mention his fine, beefy ass...kinda wish all th' guys on th'team dressed like him, in nothin' but skin-tight Speedos. I love a big guy with a heart, an' they don't get any bigger, or more big-hearted, than the Doc. His fur's the same shade'a dark, dark blue as the Elf's, an' I wonder what it'd look like if they got t'gether in a dark room. Would McCoy's eyes glow like 'Crawler's as he sucked th'German's dick? Would I even be able ta make out Kurt's body writhin' under Hank's as the Beast locked him in a hot, sexy 69? An' when they fucked, whose voice would send me over the edge without touchin' myself faster?
My fist is wrapped around my meat, an' I'm beatin' off while I watch these hot guys pretend ta kick the crap out of each other. I wish I could say a word an' get 'em all as revved-up as me, watch the uniforms fly off an' get eight naked, sweaty mutant men all rubbin' up against each other. As it is, th' only person down there who could even guess what I'm thinkin' about is Cable, an' he's busy backin' up a half-naked Russkie. His big-ass guns fire stun beams outta both barrels, an' Scotty an' Alex dodge like one being, their instincts honed an' trained ta work in perfect tandem even though they ain't even been on the same team all that long at a time. My brain goes back inta Happy Incest Land, an' I'm in a three-way with the boys, Alex fuckin' me from above while I plow Scooter missionary-style. I wonder if their mouths would taste alike if I kissed 'em while fuckin', one after the other...even though Scotty's the older brother by a good couple years, they act like twins more often than not. That'd be one helluva check off my personal Bucket List, bein' in th'middle a'that hot-ass sandwich. Throw Nathan in fer good measure...could always use an extra cock, mouth, ass, or pair a'balls. Woof.
When I cum, it sneaks up on me...somewhere between fuckin' the Summers boys, havin' a threesome with Blue an' Bobby, or bein' gangbanged by Petey, LeBeau, an' 'Crawler, my whole body spasms, an' I gotta bite my lip ta keep from screamin' out loud as I buck my hips like crazy, fuckin' my fist like there's no tomorrow as my cock swells up an' shoots load after load all over the control console. My whole body arches an' writhes, an' I'm caught in the grip a'the best damn orgasm I've had since servin' with Steve Rogers in the Deuce (a story fer another time.)
I cum fer a good 30 seconds before I come down, an' come back t'myself. Thank fuck Charley had th'good sense ta get it waterproofed when he upgraded...don't need ta make the Room go haywire just 'cause I wanna get my rocks off. As it is, the whole thing's covered in my jizz, an' I'm gonna have a helluva time cleanin' it up before one side or the other wins.
I look out the window ta make sure no one figured out what I was doin'. Nope...they're all involved, havin' the time a'their lives. Even Slim's grinnin'. Lookin' sexy when ya smile must be in th'Summers genome somewhere, along with overly complicatin' yer life by makin' bonehead decisions. Oh well.
I grab a rag from th'supply closet nearby an' start moppin' up. Suddenly, by mistake, I press down too hard while wipin' up a keyboard, an' an army of Sentinels materializes in th'Danger Room.
Oops. Better find a cover fer this. Thinkin' fast, I tab the mic.
"New plan, folks! Yer all on th'same team again, an' everyone's goin' inta recycling!"
They spring into it like th'pros I know they are. Ta be honest, I like watchin' 'em fight as a team way more than I like seein' 'em fight each other. Reminds me a'what makes th' X-Men so different from any other outfit I ever belonged to. That, an' watchin' 'em fight t'protect each other gives off some real nice Theban Band vibes.
Maybe I won't put my pants on just yet.
~FIN~
~*~
I think the key word I was going for here was "depraved." Granted, most of my fics are depraved in some point or other, but I just wanted to write some pure, utter filth.
~*~
I fuckin' love bein' supervisor on Danger Room sessions. It's almost as much fun as gettin' to shred stuff in it.
Surprised ya, didn't I? Most people think I'm only inta scrappin'. All-fight, all-the-time. But that ain't me, any more than Frost sits in her 'bu-dwaah' an' drinks champagne all day, or Summers gets all his jollies outta bossin' us around. OK, maybe he does, but that ain't th' point! Point is, we're all more than we seem ta be onna surface.
An' besides bein' a born scrapper, I'm one horny fucker most'a th' time. So, give a guy like me th' job a'watchin' a team like this, an' you bet'cher ass I'm gonna love it.
Take today, f'r instance. it's a straight up, four-on-four team brawl. Only rule is, like always, don't hurt nobody serious-like. The holograms whipped up some big-ass alien moonscape or whatever, but that ain't important.
What is important is the lineup. Blue team is Scotty, Hank, Alex, an' Drake...Cyclops, Beast, Havok, an' Iceman, if ya wanna keep track. Nate, the Russkie, the Elf, an' the Cajun...Cable, Colossus, Nightcrawler, an' Gambit...are Gold team, or as I like ta call it, "Sexy Accents Central." 'Cept fer Cable, every one'a them's got a voice makes my skin crawl. In th' good way, if ya know what I mean.
Ah, hell with it. There ain't a guy down there whose bones I wouldn't jump, given half a shot.
I signal th' start a'the session, an' they're all in action. Cyke an' Havok fire off shots at Colossus at th' same time, figurin' him fer th' biggest threat. Since Cable's the only psychic down there, I figure they might be right...even though that whole techno-virus or whatever is gone from his system, he don't like usin' his powers 'less he's gotta...or when he's in bed.
My mind starts wanderin'...the good part about bein' supervisor. I c'n picture the Summers Brothers under the mistletoe, all naked an' sweaty from a roarin' fire, makin' out an' rubbin' up against each other while Cable's on his knees, servicin' his Dad an' Uncle Alex with that hot mouth. He ain't much fer facial expressions, but he reminds me of that Nine Days song from a few years back...I absolutely love him when he smiles. An' when he smirks, it goes right ta my loins. Guy's one sexy silver daddy, an' it's like he don't even know it. Too obsessed with th' flaws, I guess.
Back in th'real world, Colossus ain't even slowin' down as he marches up ta th' Summerses. His uniform's torched from th' waist up, an' his metal bod is built. Lookin' at him like this is like starin' at a piece of fine art...but when his shirt's off an' there's skin underneath it, that's when I start feelin' all lightheaded. Th' kid may be an artist...damn good one, too...but he's hot enough ta be a fuckin' professional model. I've lost count'a th' times I've wanted ta push him onto his back on a locker room bench, climb on top'a him, an' just sit my ass down on that hard Siberian hot rod. I love a big hard cock inside me just as much as I love givin' it ta someone else good an' hard, an' with Petey I definitely wanna go both ways. Wouldn't be able ta call him Petey Pureheart after that, that's fer damn sure...though Petey Pound-Me-Real-Good has a nice ring to it, too.
Speakin' a goin' both ways, Bobby an' the Elf are keepin' pace with each other nicely. Th' kid's playin' snowball-tag while the Elf teleports, that sexy German laugh a' his echoing in my ears like a silk curtain brushin' over my skin. Drake and I never got on that well...too much alike. Back before I signed on, he was pretty much me, arguin' with One-Eye every chance he got. He turned that anger on Petey, Kurt, an' me when we joined...the original X-Men were the only X-Men, ta him, an' we were the intruders messin' with th' natural order. Can't say I appreciated that, but I understand. Over th' years he's mellowed some, but he never really grew all th' way up, an' 'Crawler's been helpin' with that every chance he gets. Wouldn't surprise me ta walk in on 'em some day, fuckin' on the War Room table, Bobby thrustin' an' groanin' on top while Kurt tailfucks him from below...Damn, it's gettin' hot in here.
No one can see me in th' control booth from behind th' holograms...They ain't gonna care if I give "li'l Logan" a little air.
That's better. Now, where was I?
Hot damn. Th' Cajun an' Hank are makin' like it's the fuckin' Olympics, bouncin' around each other like jackrabbits on speed. Hank's claws are tearin' up LeBeau's coat, so he tosses it aside...doesn't need th'drag...showin' off that lean, wiry bod in th'skintight armor. An' that ass...I used ta think Betsy had every guy on th'team beat in the ass department, but one look at Gumbo from behind, without the trench gettin' in the way, an' all I can think of is how much I wanna kiss those perfect cheeks, an' shove my tongue all the way in between 'em, lickin' his sweet spot till he cries out some mangled French obscenity an' creams me good.
I'd be doin' Hank a disservice if I didn't mention his fine, beefy ass...kinda wish all th' guys on th'team dressed like him, in nothin' but skin-tight Speedos. I love a big guy with a heart, an' they don't get any bigger, or more big-hearted, than the Doc. His fur's the same shade'a dark, dark blue as the Elf's, an' I wonder what it'd look like if they got t'gether in a dark room. Would McCoy's eyes glow like 'Crawler's as he sucked th'German's dick? Would I even be able ta make out Kurt's body writhin' under Hank's as the Beast locked him in a hot, sexy 69? An' when they fucked, whose voice would send me over the edge without touchin' myself faster?
My fist is wrapped around my meat, an' I'm beatin' off while I watch these hot guys pretend ta kick the crap out of each other. I wish I could say a word an' get 'em all as revved-up as me, watch the uniforms fly off an' get eight naked, sweaty mutant men all rubbin' up against each other. As it is, th' only person down there who could even guess what I'm thinkin' about is Cable, an' he's busy backin' up a half-naked Russkie. His big-ass guns fire stun beams outta both barrels, an' Scotty an' Alex dodge like one being, their instincts honed an' trained ta work in perfect tandem even though they ain't even been on the same team all that long at a time. My brain goes back inta Happy Incest Land, an' I'm in a three-way with the boys, Alex fuckin' me from above while I plow Scooter missionary-style. I wonder if their mouths would taste alike if I kissed 'em while fuckin', one after the other...even though Scotty's the older brother by a good couple years, they act like twins more often than not. That'd be one helluva check off my personal Bucket List, bein' in th'middle a'that hot-ass sandwich. Throw Nathan in fer good measure...could always use an extra cock, mouth, ass, or pair a'balls. Woof.
When I cum, it sneaks up on me...somewhere between fuckin' the Summers boys, havin' a threesome with Blue an' Bobby, or bein' gangbanged by Petey, LeBeau, an' 'Crawler, my whole body spasms, an' I gotta bite my lip ta keep from screamin' out loud as I buck my hips like crazy, fuckin' my fist like there's no tomorrow as my cock swells up an' shoots load after load all over the control console. My whole body arches an' writhes, an' I'm caught in the grip a'the best damn orgasm I've had since servin' with Steve Rogers in the Deuce (a story fer another time.)
I cum fer a good 30 seconds before I come down, an' come back t'myself. Thank fuck Charley had th'good sense ta get it waterproofed when he upgraded...don't need ta make the Room go haywire just 'cause I wanna get my rocks off. As it is, the whole thing's covered in my jizz, an' I'm gonna have a helluva time cleanin' it up before one side or the other wins.
I look out the window ta make sure no one figured out what I was doin'. Nope...they're all involved, havin' the time a'their lives. Even Slim's grinnin'. Lookin' sexy when ya smile must be in th'Summers genome somewhere, along with overly complicatin' yer life by makin' bonehead decisions. Oh well.
I grab a rag from th'supply closet nearby an' start moppin' up. Suddenly, by mistake, I press down too hard while wipin' up a keyboard, an' an army of Sentinels materializes in th'Danger Room.
Oops. Better find a cover fer this. Thinkin' fast, I tab the mic.
"New plan, folks! Yer all on th'same team again, an' everyone's goin' inta recycling!"
They spring into it like th'pros I know they are. Ta be honest, I like watchin' 'em fight as a team way more than I like seein' 'em fight each other. Reminds me a'what makes th' X-Men so different from any other outfit I ever belonged to. That, an' watchin' 'em fight t'protect each other gives off some real nice Theban Band vibes.
Maybe I won't put my pants on just yet.
~FIN~
~*~
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Letting Go
Here's my newest submission to y!Gallery. At 17 faves in 24 hours, it's also the fastest one to gain popularity. Not that I'm bragging or anything...it's just really flattering to have so many people like your work so quickly. :)
I think I have to credit Sabretooth for the fic's success. I hate Victor Creed with a fiery, blazing passion. When I read Wolverine's killing of the man in the comics, part of me let out a vindictive cheer.
But part of me felt...cheated, somehow. Creed has only been used right a couple of times in the whole course of the comics. When he's played savage, but smart...cunning and predatory, as opposed to growly-snarly...he takes on whole new levels of danger.
And, like Magneto, I am obsessed with the idea of taking that Sabretooth and bringing him over to the good side. Because I read Sabes in "Exiles," and fell in love.
Anyway,that's enough rambling from me. On to the smut! Enjoy!
~*~
Bobby Drake wasn't happy, and he didn't care who knew it. Babysitting Victor Creed was the absolute last thing on his list of "Things to Do With My Day," but Storm had other ideas, and when the Gold Team Leader put her foot down, the subject was pretty much closed.
He wished Hank, or at least Petey, were here to suffer with him. The worst part about guarding Sabretooth during what the professor called his 'trial rehabilitation period' was the solitude. Iceman knew he acted about ten years younger than he actually was, but he was a people-person...he liked having folks around to laugh with him, or at him. Even yelling at him gratified him...a little...because at least he stood out that way.
But in here, there was only the force field, the walls...and Creed. Staring at him with those hungry blue eyes, which seemed to flash yellow every now and again just to creep him out.
I really, really don't wanna be here.
"Well?"
Iceman jerked out of his self-pitying reverie to glare at the man behind the force field. "Well, what?"
"Yer the clown, ain'tcha? Go ahead, Popsicle. Do somethin' funny."
"Like shove an icicle so far up your ass you'll get frostbite in your trachea?" Bobby deadpanned. That got a laugh out of Creed. Harsh, rough, and not at all pleasant, but a laugh.
Iceman smirked...he couldn't help it...and sat back, pulling his Game Gear out to kill time.
Two hours to go. You can make it, Bobby...you got Sonic and Street Fighter to get you through this.
Unfortunately, he'd only been playing for about ten minutes when the system flicked off. Fuck. Batteries. Anybody got an extra six lying around?
"Aww, too bad, Frosty. Looks like yer gonna have ta stick it out, just like me."
Iceman sighed. "Creed, I'm not gonna tell you again. Keep your trap shut or I'll freeze it shut for you."
"Come on in and try," was Creed's all-too-predictable response. "Although...seems t'me fightin' ain't whatcha really wanna do with me."
Bobby's head came up. He'd been expecting more fighting words, but that had come out of nowhere...."Uh, come again?"
"I can, y'know. And again, and again if I wanna. In yer mouth...all over yer body...in yer ass, as many times as ya want." One huge, meaty hand caressed his tight blue jeans, groping the bulge in them suggestively. "C'mon in an' I'll show ya."
Bobby's mouth went very dry as his brain promptly went on strike. "Are you...are you seriously suggesting...?"
Creed licked his lips in assent. His tongue was so red, his mouth so tempting underneath the scruff and stubble...then Bobby caught a flash of his fang-like canines, heard the first hint of a growl in his throat, and willed himself back to reality.
"Nice...nice try, Vicky. Get me in your cage, and the next thing I know, there's pieces of me all over the brig and you're a free kitten. Nuh-uh. Mama Drake didn't raise no fool. You can just stay in there and jerk off for all I care." And Iceman sat back in his chair and stared at the wall.
He expected Victor -- Creed. Or Sabretooth. What the fuck is up with this 'Victor' shit? -- to growl and roar, pound on the shield and demand to be let out right the fuck now, or else.
Instead, the wild man smiled broadly, exposing his fangs to Bobby and running his tongue over them again. "Bright kid. I might just do that..." And his hand went down the waistband of his jeans.
The next few minutes were unspeakably awkward for Bobby...Creed was not quiet when he masturbated, and with nothing to distract him, all Iceman could do was stare at the wall and try not to listen.
"Hrrrrr...oh, man, this feels fuckin' amazin'...nothin' like pullin' yer pud with a hot fantasy. Ya wanna hear my fantasy, Drake?"
No, Bobby thought. Not particularly. I want to get out of here. I want to go up to my room, plug in the Nintendo, and block out everything that's going on.
What came out was, "Shoot."
"I'm picturin' you, bare-ass naked, in one o'those leather slings like you see inna pornos. Yer legs are spread wide apart, an' I can see yer cock and balls restin' there. Yer tremblin', scared, but gettin' harder by the minute. Oh, yeah, it's so fuckin' hot to watch...I kneel down between yer legs an' life up yer balls, real gentle-like so's I don't scratch 'em, an' I get my glimpse o'that hot little hole o'yers. It's pink, clean...an' it's beggin' me t'fuck it. But not right away. Not dry. That wouldn't do either of us a damn bit o'good."
Bobby let himself look at Creed now. His pants were off, tossed into the far corner of his cell, and he was only wearing that black wife-beater he loved so much. His cock jutted upwards, long and thick, out of a bush of straw-colored pubic hair. His balls, thick and round, rested on a muscular, sumptuous ass that made Bobby lick his lips and let out the tiniest of whimpers.
Stop staring, stop ogling, stop perving out. It's Sabretooth, you fucking idiot, he's just trying to get you in there so he can rip you a new one...and not the way you want him to, either. Just a pose, that's all it is, a fucking lie...
Bobby told the paranoid (or just plain rational) part of his brain to go hang.
Creed was pumping his meat now, writhing his hips on the floor like he was part snake. Fluidity and fur, muscle and skin and sweat, those terrifying, sexy eyes fixed on Bobby, blue-then-yellow-then-blue-again as he spoke, that tongue licking his lips practically between sentences.
"So I dive in, lickin' yer tight asshole, rimmin' you fer all yer worth, an' you're whimperin' and groanin' fer me...yer hole all slick an' wet from what I'm doin' to ya. It don't take long before yer beggin' me for it, Popsicle...an' I give it to ya."
His hips thrust upwards once, twice, and Bobby saw the head of his cock darken with precome as it trickled down the shaft. He hadn't even noticed his own hand going down into his pants to wrap around his own shaft until he felt it close.
Creed was still talking...Bobby didn't want him to stop. "Think what you want of me, kid, but I ain't no rapist. Everyone I've ever been with has ta ask me for it, an' I ain't never hurt no one in bed. An' I don't hurt you, neither...I push inta you, slow and steady-like. You let out this moan...it's long and drawn-out, an' I love the sound of it...super-hearin' lets me feel it when you moan, like silk brushin' across naked skin...gets me harder'n ever, an' you feel me swell up inside you just as I get it balls-deep in there...aw yeah, Bobby-baby, can ya feel it?"
Bobby-baby? the Iceman thought to himself. Then he reminded his rational brain that it was still on vacation, and kept listening. At some point his pants had dropped around his ankles, but he didn't care. It just made pumping his cock easier...
"Yeah, yer feelin' it, boy. Yer feelin' it, an' yer lovin' it, lovin' my meat slide in an' outta you. The sling's fuckin' rockin' back an' forth, but it just helps me fuck you deeper, harder...yer moanin' non-stop now, tellin' me how good a fuck I am, how you ain't never had it better...ohhh, yeah, baby, I'm gettin' close. Can ya feel it? Can ya?"
Creed's vocabulary was going the same direction as Bobby's brain...which was to say, out the window. But at this point, Bobby didn't care...all that mattered to him was that Creed kept talking.
"Oh, yeah, baby, I'm gettin' close...fuck, almost there...ohh, yer ass feels so good around me...fuck, fuck fuck FUCK! Awww, Popsicle, I'm CUMMIN'! You ain't never had a load like this before! Awww yeaaah!!"
With that final half-growl, half-scream, Creed started thrusting his cock frantically into his hand, letting loose a torrent of seed the likes of which Bobby had never seen before. The signt of him...the sound of him...was enough to push Bobby over the edge, and soon he too was crying out in ecstasy as his cock spurted in his fist, cum landing all over the metal floor as his body shook and convulsed.
When it ended, he went limp in the seat, sagging and gasping for breath, his face flushed and his entire body coated with a sheen of sweat. Sabretooth, he noticed, wasn't much better. But Victor was wearing a smug smirk as his eyes fixed on Bobby.
"Not bad, huh Popsicle? Thing is...I can do this over an' over again. You want it? All ya gotta do is let go."
Bobby looked at Creed for a long minute...then picked up his pants, wiped himself off as best he could, and walked out the door.
Someone else could take this shift. He was done, whatever Ororo said.
"You'll be back!" Victor called after him. "You ain't never cum so hard in yer life, an' you know it. You'll be back!"
The worst thing, Iceman thought to himself as he put his clothes back on, is I'm not sure he's wrong.
I think I have to credit Sabretooth for the fic's success. I hate Victor Creed with a fiery, blazing passion. When I read Wolverine's killing of the man in the comics, part of me let out a vindictive cheer.
But part of me felt...cheated, somehow. Creed has only been used right a couple of times in the whole course of the comics. When he's played savage, but smart...cunning and predatory, as opposed to growly-snarly...he takes on whole new levels of danger.
And, like Magneto, I am obsessed with the idea of taking that Sabretooth and bringing him over to the good side. Because I read Sabes in "Exiles," and fell in love.
Anyway,that's enough rambling from me. On to the smut! Enjoy!
~*~
Bobby Drake wasn't happy, and he didn't care who knew it. Babysitting Victor Creed was the absolute last thing on his list of "Things to Do With My Day," but Storm had other ideas, and when the Gold Team Leader put her foot down, the subject was pretty much closed.
He wished Hank, or at least Petey, were here to suffer with him. The worst part about guarding Sabretooth during what the professor called his 'trial rehabilitation period' was the solitude. Iceman knew he acted about ten years younger than he actually was, but he was a people-person...he liked having folks around to laugh with him, or at him. Even yelling at him gratified him...a little...because at least he stood out that way.
But in here, there was only the force field, the walls...and Creed. Staring at him with those hungry blue eyes, which seemed to flash yellow every now and again just to creep him out.
I really, really don't wanna be here.
"Well?"
Iceman jerked out of his self-pitying reverie to glare at the man behind the force field. "Well, what?"
"Yer the clown, ain'tcha? Go ahead, Popsicle. Do somethin' funny."
"Like shove an icicle so far up your ass you'll get frostbite in your trachea?" Bobby deadpanned. That got a laugh out of Creed. Harsh, rough, and not at all pleasant, but a laugh.
Iceman smirked...he couldn't help it...and sat back, pulling his Game Gear out to kill time.
Two hours to go. You can make it, Bobby...you got Sonic and Street Fighter to get you through this.
Unfortunately, he'd only been playing for about ten minutes when the system flicked off. Fuck. Batteries. Anybody got an extra six lying around?
"Aww, too bad, Frosty. Looks like yer gonna have ta stick it out, just like me."
Iceman sighed. "Creed, I'm not gonna tell you again. Keep your trap shut or I'll freeze it shut for you."
"Come on in and try," was Creed's all-too-predictable response. "Although...seems t'me fightin' ain't whatcha really wanna do with me."
Bobby's head came up. He'd been expecting more fighting words, but that had come out of nowhere...."Uh, come again?"
"I can, y'know. And again, and again if I wanna. In yer mouth...all over yer body...in yer ass, as many times as ya want." One huge, meaty hand caressed his tight blue jeans, groping the bulge in them suggestively. "C'mon in an' I'll show ya."
Bobby's mouth went very dry as his brain promptly went on strike. "Are you...are you seriously suggesting...?"
Creed licked his lips in assent. His tongue was so red, his mouth so tempting underneath the scruff and stubble...then Bobby caught a flash of his fang-like canines, heard the first hint of a growl in his throat, and willed himself back to reality.
"Nice...nice try, Vicky. Get me in your cage, and the next thing I know, there's pieces of me all over the brig and you're a free kitten. Nuh-uh. Mama Drake didn't raise no fool. You can just stay in there and jerk off for all I care." And Iceman sat back in his chair and stared at the wall.
He expected Victor -- Creed. Or Sabretooth. What the fuck is up with this 'Victor' shit? -- to growl and roar, pound on the shield and demand to be let out right the fuck now, or else.
Instead, the wild man smiled broadly, exposing his fangs to Bobby and running his tongue over them again. "Bright kid. I might just do that..." And his hand went down the waistband of his jeans.
The next few minutes were unspeakably awkward for Bobby...Creed was not quiet when he masturbated, and with nothing to distract him, all Iceman could do was stare at the wall and try not to listen.
"Hrrrrr...oh, man, this feels fuckin' amazin'...nothin' like pullin' yer pud with a hot fantasy. Ya wanna hear my fantasy, Drake?"
No, Bobby thought. Not particularly. I want to get out of here. I want to go up to my room, plug in the Nintendo, and block out everything that's going on.
What came out was, "Shoot."
"I'm picturin' you, bare-ass naked, in one o'those leather slings like you see inna pornos. Yer legs are spread wide apart, an' I can see yer cock and balls restin' there. Yer tremblin', scared, but gettin' harder by the minute. Oh, yeah, it's so fuckin' hot to watch...I kneel down between yer legs an' life up yer balls, real gentle-like so's I don't scratch 'em, an' I get my glimpse o'that hot little hole o'yers. It's pink, clean...an' it's beggin' me t'fuck it. But not right away. Not dry. That wouldn't do either of us a damn bit o'good."
Bobby let himself look at Creed now. His pants were off, tossed into the far corner of his cell, and he was only wearing that black wife-beater he loved so much. His cock jutted upwards, long and thick, out of a bush of straw-colored pubic hair. His balls, thick and round, rested on a muscular, sumptuous ass that made Bobby lick his lips and let out the tiniest of whimpers.
Stop staring, stop ogling, stop perving out. It's Sabretooth, you fucking idiot, he's just trying to get you in there so he can rip you a new one...and not the way you want him to, either. Just a pose, that's all it is, a fucking lie...
Bobby told the paranoid (or just plain rational) part of his brain to go hang.
Creed was pumping his meat now, writhing his hips on the floor like he was part snake. Fluidity and fur, muscle and skin and sweat, those terrifying, sexy eyes fixed on Bobby, blue-then-yellow-then-blue-again as he spoke, that tongue licking his lips practically between sentences.
"So I dive in, lickin' yer tight asshole, rimmin' you fer all yer worth, an' you're whimperin' and groanin' fer me...yer hole all slick an' wet from what I'm doin' to ya. It don't take long before yer beggin' me for it, Popsicle...an' I give it to ya."
His hips thrust upwards once, twice, and Bobby saw the head of his cock darken with precome as it trickled down the shaft. He hadn't even noticed his own hand going down into his pants to wrap around his own shaft until he felt it close.
Creed was still talking...Bobby didn't want him to stop. "Think what you want of me, kid, but I ain't no rapist. Everyone I've ever been with has ta ask me for it, an' I ain't never hurt no one in bed. An' I don't hurt you, neither...I push inta you, slow and steady-like. You let out this moan...it's long and drawn-out, an' I love the sound of it...super-hearin' lets me feel it when you moan, like silk brushin' across naked skin...gets me harder'n ever, an' you feel me swell up inside you just as I get it balls-deep in there...aw yeah, Bobby-baby, can ya feel it?"
Bobby-baby? the Iceman thought to himself. Then he reminded his rational brain that it was still on vacation, and kept listening. At some point his pants had dropped around his ankles, but he didn't care. It just made pumping his cock easier...
"Yeah, yer feelin' it, boy. Yer feelin' it, an' yer lovin' it, lovin' my meat slide in an' outta you. The sling's fuckin' rockin' back an' forth, but it just helps me fuck you deeper, harder...yer moanin' non-stop now, tellin' me how good a fuck I am, how you ain't never had it better...ohhh, yeah, baby, I'm gettin' close. Can ya feel it? Can ya?"
Creed's vocabulary was going the same direction as Bobby's brain...which was to say, out the window. But at this point, Bobby didn't care...all that mattered to him was that Creed kept talking.
"Oh, yeah, baby, I'm gettin' close...fuck, almost there...ohh, yer ass feels so good around me...fuck, fuck fuck FUCK! Awww, Popsicle, I'm CUMMIN'! You ain't never had a load like this before! Awww yeaaah!!"
With that final half-growl, half-scream, Creed started thrusting his cock frantically into his hand, letting loose a torrent of seed the likes of which Bobby had never seen before. The signt of him...the sound of him...was enough to push Bobby over the edge, and soon he too was crying out in ecstasy as his cock spurted in his fist, cum landing all over the metal floor as his body shook and convulsed.
When it ended, he went limp in the seat, sagging and gasping for breath, his face flushed and his entire body coated with a sheen of sweat. Sabretooth, he noticed, wasn't much better. But Victor was wearing a smug smirk as his eyes fixed on Bobby.
"Not bad, huh Popsicle? Thing is...I can do this over an' over again. You want it? All ya gotta do is let go."
Bobby looked at Creed for a long minute...then picked up his pants, wiped himself off as best he could, and walked out the door.
Someone else could take this shift. He was done, whatever Ororo said.
"You'll be back!" Victor called after him. "You ain't never cum so hard in yer life, an' you know it. You'll be back!"
The worst thing, Iceman thought to himself as he put his clothes back on, is I'm not sure he's wrong.
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Day In The Life, Part 2
Hey guys,
Remember this fic? Good. :) Remember how I promised I'd continue it?
Well, better late than never. ^_^; Also, look! Plot!
...We'll see how long that lasts.
~*~
Bobby woke up first, seeing the afternoon sun's rays shine through his bedroom window. He yawned, stretched, and rolled right on top of the big pile of fur that was his sleeping bedmate. They were still naked, the scent of sex barely lingering after the morning's marathon...and just like that, Bobby was horny again.
His hand drifted down his lover's massive chest, to the heavy sac and thick purple shaft resting between his sexy, muscular thighs. It didn't even occur to Iceman to wonder if Hank would appreciate being woken up like this...it had worked this morning, no reason for it not to work now. Taking the Beast's cock in one hand and his own in the other, Bobby started stroking them in time with each other, relishing the size and thickness of Hank's shaft even as his own cock shot jolts of pure pleasure through his body. Bobby felt Hank stir and rumble, but then keep snoring, a thick, shaggy arm draping itself over his smaller frame as he stroked.
Jerking Hank off was fun, but it wasn't enough for Bobby. Not even close. So he crawled down the bed, between those huge, gorgeous tree-truck legs, and licked at his man's swelling member. This got much more reaction out of Hank...the rumbles actually became soft moans and whimpers, and Bobby saw Hank's lips form his name in his sleep. Bobby watched this, and fell in love all over again.
It didn't take long for Hank to cum; it never did. Before long, his hips were pistoning his cock in and out of Bobby's mouth as his massive fingers closed around the younger man's head, engulfing him in darkness and fur as he shot loads of his delicious, spicy-sweet seed into Bobby's mouth. It was too much for him to swallow, and ran down his chin in white rivulets, but Bobby didn't care. It was Hank, so it was wonderful. Better than wonderful; it was fucking perfect.
Those big blue eyes fluttered open and looked at him, that face turning into the sexiest smile Bobby had ever seen. "Well, good afternoon, handsome," he said, and Bobby got shivers. "I do seem to have misplaced my laboratory...or at least myself."
"Blame it on your age, Blue." Bobby chuckled, licking himself as clean as he could. Then Hank came in, long swipes of his tongue cleaning the rest of the seed off his face, before pulling him close for another of the best kisses Bobby had ever had.
It was the best moment Bobby had ever had in his life. It always was. Unfortunately, life wasn't about to let them keep it that way. The intercom chose that moment to flick to life, with their Fearless Leader's voice coming over the airwaves.
"X-Men, emergency! Meet in the hangar, stat!"
Like a mirror hitting a concrete floor, the mood was shattered and both Iceman and Beast were in full 'X-Men' mode. They dressed in their uniforms and headed out without a word.
~*~
One Hour Later
"OK, Cyke, time to spill. What's the big emergency? And oh yeah...are we there yet?"
Iceman knew how immature he sounded. But if he couldn't enjoy the rest of his day, he'd make damn sure his boss didn't either.
"Outbreaks of juvenile conduct notwithstanding, our resident - and rather nubile - animate Popsicle raises a point," Beast said, ever the voice of reason...if not the only thing keeping Bobby and Scott from ripping each other apart. "We have been left somewhat in the dark as to the nature of our summons, our foes...and practically any other relevant details about our mission. And as much as I enjoy a nice aimless flight around the globe..." He flashed the team leader the most ingratiating of smiles. "...I must say I would feel better with a bit more briefing as to the nature of this excursion."
Scott didn't say anything. He simply started straight ahead, hands practically white-knuckled under their gloves around the yoke of the Blackbird's throttle. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the red-headed young man in the copilot's chair spoke up.
"It's the Hellfire Club...namely, Sebastian Shaw. We just saw news reports of a mining operation in the Andes that he's funding. A little digging revealed that the operation...it's just a front for whatever his real objective is."
Beast nodded thoughtfully. "That explains Scott's taciturn-cum-truculent demeanor."
"Also why he's being so grouchy," Iceman piped up. Hank swatted him from behind...gently.
Cyclops had never been terribly fond of the Hellfire Club, but after their members had corrupted the woman Scott loved into Dark Phoenix -- thus triggering a series of unfortunate events that had led to her ultimate demise -- that professional dislike had soured into outright hatred. Despite Jean's reincarnation as John Grey, and the subsequent total separation of John's psyche from the Phoenix (though he had kept the name, in honor of who and what he had been), the bitterness Cyclops had for the Hellfire Club remained, and probably always would.
For his part, John had gone quiet, and assumed a pensive demeanor. Bobby couldn't blame him...after all, he was Jean in every way that counted (except one or two), and so had his own bad memories and demons to deal with. He leaned back to whisper to Hank.
"Blue? Baby? I kinda...think we don't belong on this one."
Hank's paw rested on Bobby's shoulder, and he leaned up to nuzzle his lover. Funny, how such a primitive gesture could feel so natural coming from him. "Be of good cheer, my frosty paramour. Someone has to play chaperone for these two, and as fellow 'old-timers', as it were, I posit that we would make preferable babysitters to those of the team with less patience, such as Wolverine or Bishop."
"Good point," Bobby muttered, once he deciphered Hank's five-dollar vocabulary. Logan would probably have sliced the hull open with a claw and jumped out, not particuarly caring whether he turned into sidewalk stroganoff or not, and Bishop was a total brick wall when it came to sensitivity.
But the four of them, and Wings...they'd formed a connection early on, and that was hard to break. It hadn't broken when Jean had come back looking more GQ than Cosmo, and it hadn't broken when Bobby and Hank shared their first kiss in public at the team's 7th anniversary. Nothing could break up this team, not at heart. Oh, their lives may head off in separate directions, but when it came down to it, no one had each other's backs like the original X-Men.
Good thing, too, Bobby thought as the plane touched down, 'cause whatever Shaw's really doing with those 'mines,' I can bet it's not gonna involve candy or puppies. Unless it's stealing the candy and kicking the puppies.
He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this mission.
~TO BE CONTINUED...~
Remember this fic? Good. :) Remember how I promised I'd continue it?
Well, better late than never. ^_^; Also, look! Plot!
...We'll see how long that lasts.
~*~
Bobby woke up first, seeing the afternoon sun's rays shine through his bedroom window. He yawned, stretched, and rolled right on top of the big pile of fur that was his sleeping bedmate. They were still naked, the scent of sex barely lingering after the morning's marathon...and just like that, Bobby was horny again.
His hand drifted down his lover's massive chest, to the heavy sac and thick purple shaft resting between his sexy, muscular thighs. It didn't even occur to Iceman to wonder if Hank would appreciate being woken up like this...it had worked this morning, no reason for it not to work now. Taking the Beast's cock in one hand and his own in the other, Bobby started stroking them in time with each other, relishing the size and thickness of Hank's shaft even as his own cock shot jolts of pure pleasure through his body. Bobby felt Hank stir and rumble, but then keep snoring, a thick, shaggy arm draping itself over his smaller frame as he stroked.
Jerking Hank off was fun, but it wasn't enough for Bobby. Not even close. So he crawled down the bed, between those huge, gorgeous tree-truck legs, and licked at his man's swelling member. This got much more reaction out of Hank...the rumbles actually became soft moans and whimpers, and Bobby saw Hank's lips form his name in his sleep. Bobby watched this, and fell in love all over again.
It didn't take long for Hank to cum; it never did. Before long, his hips were pistoning his cock in and out of Bobby's mouth as his massive fingers closed around the younger man's head, engulfing him in darkness and fur as he shot loads of his delicious, spicy-sweet seed into Bobby's mouth. It was too much for him to swallow, and ran down his chin in white rivulets, but Bobby didn't care. It was Hank, so it was wonderful. Better than wonderful; it was fucking perfect.
Those big blue eyes fluttered open and looked at him, that face turning into the sexiest smile Bobby had ever seen. "Well, good afternoon, handsome," he said, and Bobby got shivers. "I do seem to have misplaced my laboratory...or at least myself."
"Blame it on your age, Blue." Bobby chuckled, licking himself as clean as he could. Then Hank came in, long swipes of his tongue cleaning the rest of the seed off his face, before pulling him close for another of the best kisses Bobby had ever had.
It was the best moment Bobby had ever had in his life. It always was. Unfortunately, life wasn't about to let them keep it that way. The intercom chose that moment to flick to life, with their Fearless Leader's voice coming over the airwaves.
"X-Men, emergency! Meet in the hangar, stat!"
Like a mirror hitting a concrete floor, the mood was shattered and both Iceman and Beast were in full 'X-Men' mode. They dressed in their uniforms and headed out without a word.
~*~
One Hour Later
"OK, Cyke, time to spill. What's the big emergency? And oh yeah...are we there yet?"
Iceman knew how immature he sounded. But if he couldn't enjoy the rest of his day, he'd make damn sure his boss didn't either.
"Outbreaks of juvenile conduct notwithstanding, our resident - and rather nubile - animate Popsicle raises a point," Beast said, ever the voice of reason...if not the only thing keeping Bobby and Scott from ripping each other apart. "We have been left somewhat in the dark as to the nature of our summons, our foes...and practically any other relevant details about our mission. And as much as I enjoy a nice aimless flight around the globe..." He flashed the team leader the most ingratiating of smiles. "...I must say I would feel better with a bit more briefing as to the nature of this excursion."
Scott didn't say anything. He simply started straight ahead, hands practically white-knuckled under their gloves around the yoke of the Blackbird's throttle. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the red-headed young man in the copilot's chair spoke up.
"It's the Hellfire Club...namely, Sebastian Shaw. We just saw news reports of a mining operation in the Andes that he's funding. A little digging revealed that the operation...it's just a front for whatever his real objective is."
Beast nodded thoughtfully. "That explains Scott's taciturn-cum-truculent demeanor."
"Also why he's being so grouchy," Iceman piped up. Hank swatted him from behind...gently.
Cyclops had never been terribly fond of the Hellfire Club, but after their members had corrupted the woman Scott loved into Dark Phoenix -- thus triggering a series of unfortunate events that had led to her ultimate demise -- that professional dislike had soured into outright hatred. Despite Jean's reincarnation as John Grey, and the subsequent total separation of John's psyche from the Phoenix (though he had kept the name, in honor of who and what he had been), the bitterness Cyclops had for the Hellfire Club remained, and probably always would.
For his part, John had gone quiet, and assumed a pensive demeanor. Bobby couldn't blame him...after all, he was Jean in every way that counted (except one or two), and so had his own bad memories and demons to deal with. He leaned back to whisper to Hank.
"Blue? Baby? I kinda...think we don't belong on this one."
Hank's paw rested on Bobby's shoulder, and he leaned up to nuzzle his lover. Funny, how such a primitive gesture could feel so natural coming from him. "Be of good cheer, my frosty paramour. Someone has to play chaperone for these two, and as fellow 'old-timers', as it were, I posit that we would make preferable babysitters to those of the team with less patience, such as Wolverine or Bishop."
"Good point," Bobby muttered, once he deciphered Hank's five-dollar vocabulary. Logan would probably have sliced the hull open with a claw and jumped out, not particuarly caring whether he turned into sidewalk stroganoff or not, and Bishop was a total brick wall when it came to sensitivity.
But the four of them, and Wings...they'd formed a connection early on, and that was hard to break. It hadn't broken when Jean had come back looking more GQ than Cosmo, and it hadn't broken when Bobby and Hank shared their first kiss in public at the team's 7th anniversary. Nothing could break up this team, not at heart. Oh, their lives may head off in separate directions, but when it came down to it, no one had each other's backs like the original X-Men.
Good thing, too, Bobby thought as the plane touched down, 'cause whatever Shaw's really doing with those 'mines,' I can bet it's not gonna involve candy or puppies. Unless it's stealing the candy and kicking the puppies.
He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this mission.
~TO BE CONTINUED...~
Friday, December 14, 2007
A Day In the Life, Part 1
Hi all!
This story is my second exclusive for on the blog. Hank McCoy, for some ungodly reason, counts as a furry on y!Gallery so he's not allowed.
About the pairing: Hank and Bobby 'Iceman' Drake are my favorite X-Couple this side of Colossus and Kitty. I know there's no way in hell the writers would willingly make both of them gay, let alone involved, but that's why they call it 'slash,' kiddos. This pairing is full of romance and camaraderie and, oh yeah, SEX. I do focus a bit overmuch on Hank in this fic, but I've been going through a beastly period of withdrawal (Get it? BEASTly? Aaah, never mind), and wanted to get back to writing him in compromising positions.
So this fic is essentially me glutting myself on Bobby/Hank goodness. Enjoy the marathon-fuck that is "A Day In the Life, Part 1."
~*~
The first fuck of the day started unexpectedly for Bobby Drake when he went down to the lab to get Hank McCoy up for breakfast. He loved kissing Hank awake; there was no moment as sweet to the Iceman as when the big blue hunk responded to his kiss, massive shaggy arms going around him and pulling him close. This morning, not only was he embraced by those arms, but trapped in them, T-Shirt and jeans shredded by th Beast's massive hands as he pulled him into bed with him and sat him firmly atop that massive, blue-black, precum-oozing erection. Always one who could take a hint, Bobby did the work for his lover, working himself up and down Hank's rampant erection as the gentle blue giant groaned and growled his way to his first load, whispering Bobby's name hoarsely as he came. Feeling Hank's load wash over his prostate while his name was spoken in such urgent tones made Bobby's head snap back, his lips open in a silent scream of ecstasy as his own hand brought him to release all over that gorgeous, furry chest. After chiding his lover gently for ruining his civilian clothes, Bobby felt around for his uniform trunks and boots and slid them back on, only doing a perfunctory job of cleanup. After all, the day had just started...
The second time that day was after breakfast. Scott, ever a stickler for a daily regimen of exercise, had programmed an all-new, all-different Danger Room session, and he wanted the whole team in there to try it out in pairs. Bobby and Hank were down a ways on the list, though, so they had about half an hour to kill. As soon as everyone was out of sight on one of the mansion's numerous sub-basement elevators, Hank had Bobby pinned up against the corridor wall, their trunks on the floor as he slid his massive shaft home a second time that day. Bobby wrapped his legs around Hank and moaned as he felt the huge balls slap his ass over and over again, working his inner muscles in such a way that Hank almost felt like his cock was being milked for its load. That time didn't take long, either...even though Bobby was still recovering from his first orgasm, it didn't stop Hank from whispering Bobby's name again and again as he flooded the Iceman's ass with seed for the second time that day. They kissed as they dressed, hotly, sloppily, and Bobby was never more grateful for his ice-form...it would hide his hard-on from Scott while he and Hank did their time in the Danger Room.
Bobby stayed hard all through the session...it wasn't like he had much choice. Every time he thought he'd gotten a handle on it, he'd catch a glimpse of his boyfriend's ass or package as he leapt through the air. Even though it was covered up by trunks (and, y'know, a life-or-death situation), it was still Hank, and seeing Hank made Bobby hard. Like Pavlov's dog, only with sex.
He finally got what he wanted after the session, when he led Hank on a merry chase through the mansion out onto the grounds. It was snowing, but the cold didn't bother Hank through his fur coat, and Bobby, being Bobby, loved cold weather. It was under the cover of a copse of trees that they had sex for the third time, Hank on his knees sucking Bobby's raging hardon while Bobby reached around and fingered that wonderful, muscular blue ass until Hank's wonderful mouth set him off. Of course when Hank got into 'bottom-mode,' he REALLY bottomed, and would never stop at just fingers. So the Beast crouched naked on all fours while Bobby got behind him, and started filling up his lover's ass until he could fit his whole fist in there. Hank LOVED being fisted...it always got him moaning like a whore in heat. And Bobby loved seeing him that way...so much that his cock sprang back to life a 4th time (his ability to control the water in his body may or may not have had something to do with this) and he was able to flip the Beast on his back and fuck his ass for the first time that day. Even after the fisting, it was wonderfully hot and tight in there, and watching Hank stroke himself to orgasm while being impaled by Bobby's cock was one of the best parts of Iceman's day.
Not that there weren't great ones to follow that day. Bobby saw Hank again after lunch, cornering him in the library. Bobby had insisted that the Professor stock up on comics, sci-fi, and fantasy, and Charley was happy to do it when he realized it meant Bobby would actually spend time in there. Bobby did indeed spend a lot of time in the library, both for the new sections and because it meant Hank always knew where to find him. His five-dollar vocabulary rattling off something he thought he'd need in the Animal Science section, he met Bobby in that same section five minutes later, where Hank pinned him up against the shelves that held the books about big cats, and the two of them rutted like beasts until Bobby actually creamed his uniform trunks, having not had time to take them off.
Desperately in need of both a shower and laundry now, he took Hank's paw and led him to his living quarters, where they chucked their trunks in Bobby's washing machine before heading for the bathroom. The two of them were in the shower for about an hour, but strangely didn't do a whole lot of scrubbing. Instead, Bobby turned the water as hot as they could both stand it and sucked Hank back to hardness while the steam curled around them both, then pinned HIM to the wall and fisted him a second time before his cock slid back home, stabbing Hank's prostate on the first try and making him roar/scream in ecstasy. For someone who loved to fuck as much as Hank, Bobby would never cease to be amazed at how having a cock in him could make him growl and groan with pleasure as they both shot their loads simultaneously.
Once the clothes were clean, they still needed to be dried. So Bobby threw them in his drier, then sat astride it, still naked, spreading his legs in a wanton invitation. Hank eagerly accepted it, pounding him atop the dryer as it got hotter and hotter, almost burning Bobby, but thrilling him all the more for it. Iceman may have loved cold weather, but hot temperatures turned him on almost as much..especially with Hank's cock pistoning in and out of him in a quick, staccato rhythm. Bobby loved taking in the sight of Hank, pushing his thighs open while his face was frozen in a grimace of ecstasy, his hips jackhammering away until he came again, his load coating Bobby's ass and the dryer beneath them.
After they cleaned up, Hank flopped facedown on Bobby's bed. His animal healing factor gave him the ability to marathon-fuck like no one else at the school (well, except maybe Logan), but even he had his limits. Bobby sat down beside him, and grabbed a brush from the bedside table.
He was in love with this man, he thought as he ran the brush through the Beast's thick, luxurious fur. He knew it was love for a lot of reasons...of course, the sex was fucking wonderful, but the feelings ran deeper. It didn't matter if they were fucking on top of a dryer or singing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" off-key from the stands at the X-Men's bi-annual baseball game, he just loved being with him. They fought together, lived together, slept together (when they slept at all)...it was like those stories Bobby had read about some ancient Greek warriors. Only without togas. (too bad; Hank would look really sexy in a toga, especially if it meant Bobby could crawl under it and suck him off!)
His thoughts were interrupted by a snore, and he looked down and laughed to himself. Brushing out Hank's fur as he had been, he'd barely noticed that his big blue-pelted lover had fallen asleep.
OK, he could sleep. Curling up beside Hank, he wrapped his arms around that immense furry chest and closed his eyes. Their day was only half-over, he thought with a grin. And with any luck, the afternoon and evening would be just as much fun as the morning.
~*~
This story is my second exclusive for on the blog. Hank McCoy, for some ungodly reason, counts as a furry on y!Gallery so he's not allowed.
About the pairing: Hank and Bobby 'Iceman' Drake are my favorite X-Couple this side of Colossus and Kitty. I know there's no way in hell the writers would willingly make both of them gay, let alone involved, but that's why they call it 'slash,' kiddos. This pairing is full of romance and camaraderie and, oh yeah, SEX. I do focus a bit overmuch on Hank in this fic, but I've been going through a beastly period of withdrawal (Get it? BEASTly? Aaah, never mind), and wanted to get back to writing him in compromising positions.
So this fic is essentially me glutting myself on Bobby/Hank goodness. Enjoy the marathon-fuck that is "A Day In the Life, Part 1."
~*~
The first fuck of the day started unexpectedly for Bobby Drake when he went down to the lab to get Hank McCoy up for breakfast. He loved kissing Hank awake; there was no moment as sweet to the Iceman as when the big blue hunk responded to his kiss, massive shaggy arms going around him and pulling him close. This morning, not only was he embraced by those arms, but trapped in them, T-Shirt and jeans shredded by th Beast's massive hands as he pulled him into bed with him and sat him firmly atop that massive, blue-black, precum-oozing erection. Always one who could take a hint, Bobby did the work for his lover, working himself up and down Hank's rampant erection as the gentle blue giant groaned and growled his way to his first load, whispering Bobby's name hoarsely as he came. Feeling Hank's load wash over his prostate while his name was spoken in such urgent tones made Bobby's head snap back, his lips open in a silent scream of ecstasy as his own hand brought him to release all over that gorgeous, furry chest. After chiding his lover gently for ruining his civilian clothes, Bobby felt around for his uniform trunks and boots and slid them back on, only doing a perfunctory job of cleanup. After all, the day had just started...
The second time that day was after breakfast. Scott, ever a stickler for a daily regimen of exercise, had programmed an all-new, all-different Danger Room session, and he wanted the whole team in there to try it out in pairs. Bobby and Hank were down a ways on the list, though, so they had about half an hour to kill. As soon as everyone was out of sight on one of the mansion's numerous sub-basement elevators, Hank had Bobby pinned up against the corridor wall, their trunks on the floor as he slid his massive shaft home a second time that day. Bobby wrapped his legs around Hank and moaned as he felt the huge balls slap his ass over and over again, working his inner muscles in such a way that Hank almost felt like his cock was being milked for its load. That time didn't take long, either...even though Bobby was still recovering from his first orgasm, it didn't stop Hank from whispering Bobby's name again and again as he flooded the Iceman's ass with seed for the second time that day. They kissed as they dressed, hotly, sloppily, and Bobby was never more grateful for his ice-form...it would hide his hard-on from Scott while he and Hank did their time in the Danger Room.
Bobby stayed hard all through the session...it wasn't like he had much choice. Every time he thought he'd gotten a handle on it, he'd catch a glimpse of his boyfriend's ass or package as he leapt through the air. Even though it was covered up by trunks (and, y'know, a life-or-death situation), it was still Hank, and seeing Hank made Bobby hard. Like Pavlov's dog, only with sex.
He finally got what he wanted after the session, when he led Hank on a merry chase through the mansion out onto the grounds. It was snowing, but the cold didn't bother Hank through his fur coat, and Bobby, being Bobby, loved cold weather. It was under the cover of a copse of trees that they had sex for the third time, Hank on his knees sucking Bobby's raging hardon while Bobby reached around and fingered that wonderful, muscular blue ass until Hank's wonderful mouth set him off. Of course when Hank got into 'bottom-mode,' he REALLY bottomed, and would never stop at just fingers. So the Beast crouched naked on all fours while Bobby got behind him, and started filling up his lover's ass until he could fit his whole fist in there. Hank LOVED being fisted...it always got him moaning like a whore in heat. And Bobby loved seeing him that way...so much that his cock sprang back to life a 4th time (his ability to control the water in his body may or may not have had something to do with this) and he was able to flip the Beast on his back and fuck his ass for the first time that day. Even after the fisting, it was wonderfully hot and tight in there, and watching Hank stroke himself to orgasm while being impaled by Bobby's cock was one of the best parts of Iceman's day.
Not that there weren't great ones to follow that day. Bobby saw Hank again after lunch, cornering him in the library. Bobby had insisted that the Professor stock up on comics, sci-fi, and fantasy, and Charley was happy to do it when he realized it meant Bobby would actually spend time in there. Bobby did indeed spend a lot of time in the library, both for the new sections and because it meant Hank always knew where to find him. His five-dollar vocabulary rattling off something he thought he'd need in the Animal Science section, he met Bobby in that same section five minutes later, where Hank pinned him up against the shelves that held the books about big cats, and the two of them rutted like beasts until Bobby actually creamed his uniform trunks, having not had time to take them off.
Desperately in need of both a shower and laundry now, he took Hank's paw and led him to his living quarters, where they chucked their trunks in Bobby's washing machine before heading for the bathroom. The two of them were in the shower for about an hour, but strangely didn't do a whole lot of scrubbing. Instead, Bobby turned the water as hot as they could both stand it and sucked Hank back to hardness while the steam curled around them both, then pinned HIM to the wall and fisted him a second time before his cock slid back home, stabbing Hank's prostate on the first try and making him roar/scream in ecstasy. For someone who loved to fuck as much as Hank, Bobby would never cease to be amazed at how having a cock in him could make him growl and groan with pleasure as they both shot their loads simultaneously.
Once the clothes were clean, they still needed to be dried. So Bobby threw them in his drier, then sat astride it, still naked, spreading his legs in a wanton invitation. Hank eagerly accepted it, pounding him atop the dryer as it got hotter and hotter, almost burning Bobby, but thrilling him all the more for it. Iceman may have loved cold weather, but hot temperatures turned him on almost as much..especially with Hank's cock pistoning in and out of him in a quick, staccato rhythm. Bobby loved taking in the sight of Hank, pushing his thighs open while his face was frozen in a grimace of ecstasy, his hips jackhammering away until he came again, his load coating Bobby's ass and the dryer beneath them.
After they cleaned up, Hank flopped facedown on Bobby's bed. His animal healing factor gave him the ability to marathon-fuck like no one else at the school (well, except maybe Logan), but even he had his limits. Bobby sat down beside him, and grabbed a brush from the bedside table.
He was in love with this man, he thought as he ran the brush through the Beast's thick, luxurious fur. He knew it was love for a lot of reasons...of course, the sex was fucking wonderful, but the feelings ran deeper. It didn't matter if they were fucking on top of a dryer or singing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" off-key from the stands at the X-Men's bi-annual baseball game, he just loved being with him. They fought together, lived together, slept together (when they slept at all)...it was like those stories Bobby had read about some ancient Greek warriors. Only without togas. (too bad; Hank would look really sexy in a toga, especially if it meant Bobby could crawl under it and suck him off!)
His thoughts were interrupted by a snore, and he looked down and laughed to himself. Brushing out Hank's fur as he had been, he'd barely noticed that his big blue-pelted lover had fallen asleep.
OK, he could sleep. Curling up beside Hank, he wrapped his arms around that immense furry chest and closed his eyes. Their day was only half-over, he thought with a grin. And with any luck, the afternoon and evening would be just as much fun as the morning.
~*~
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