(X-Men) Reconnaissance
Title: Reconnaissance
Fandom: X-Men (movieverse)
Pairings: Logan/Bobby, Mystique/Bobby
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2134
Timeline: X1
Notes: For 50_smutlets, prompt "fantasy".
Summary: Mystique needs a face and Bobby needs to wake up.
He’s falling.
He’s falling and he’s trying to scream, but there’s no sound coming out of his mouth, and nobody there to rescue him.
The windows of the building speed past him, faster and faster, as he plummets. The air shrieks and whistles in his ears. He reaches for something that isn’t there, and the ground surges up to meet him.
Bobby gasps and chokes and sits upright, blankets kicked to the floor and sweat on his forehead.
His feet are cold, colder than usual, and he remembers the dream, remembers the way the ice spread from his toes, and he couldn’t control it, and he remembers the skyscraper’s roof growing more and more slippery. He remembers not being able to keep his footing, and he was trying to move towards the centre of the roof but some strange force kept dragging him towards the edge.
He remembers that brief feeling of weightlessness, where for just a single second he thought he might fly.
And then he was falling.
He closes his eyes, scrubs at them furiously, fingers coming away damp and salty. It’s a dream, it was only a dream, and he’s awake and everything is all right.
Only when he opens his eyes, he’s not alone.
She’s standing at the foot of his bed, watching him curiously with an amused smile on her face. A cruel smile.
At first he thinks she’s made of ice, because he’s dreamt of that before, sculptures that move and stalk him through the Mansion and hiss at him for creating them, because he’s unnatural and their existence is pain. She’s illuminated by the eerie light of the moon, it kisses her blue skin and makes her glow.
And then she moves, one finger coming up to her lips, and he can see that she’s flesh, warm and inviting and exposed.
Her smile grows and her eyes narrow and when she takes a step towards him, Bobby scrambles further up the bed, back hitting the headboard. He looks around wildly, searching for something that will tell him this is a dream, and when he turns back to her, she’s gone.
Instead, Rogue stands in front of him, smiling shyly.
He stares dumbly as she moves towards him, her fingers idly tracing a path along the sheets, and she looks so beautiful, hair tousled, full lips parted, looking at him through lidded eyes, and Bobby’s heart aches because he’s been infatuated since she first sat next to him in class.
“Rogue?” he croaks, voice hoarse with sleep and confusion. “What are you doing here?”
Rogue chews on her bottom lip, and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, and he wants to hold her. But he can only watch as she perches on the bed, just out of arm’s reach.
“Bobby?” she whispers, and her accent simultaneously soothes him and sends a shiver down his spine. “You like me, don’t you?”
Bobby stares at her blankly for only a second, still disorientated, and then he nods because his throat is suddenly dry and tight and the most amazing girl he’s ever seen has just crept into his room in the middle of the night and asked about his feelings.
“Good,” Rogue says with a smile that melts away all memories of nightmares. “And I like you, don’t I?”
Bobby blinks at her. “I … I hope so,” he manages.
“Mmm,” Rogue hums, fingers still trailing invisible doodles on his mattress. “And I trust you, don’t I?”
He doesn’t know what to say to that. “I hope so,” he ventures again.
“And if you told me something, even if it was something bad,” she murmurs, fixing him with an intense stare. “I’d believe you, right? Because you’d never lie to me, right?”
He fixates on the last question, because he knows it’s one he can answer truthfully. “I’d never lie to you,” he insists with as much sincerity as he can.
“Good,” Rogue purrs, and he’s not seen that smile on her face before. It’s gone before he can decipher it, and then she’s reaching out to him, hand moving to cup his cheek and he closes his eyes and leans into it.
Instead of soft skin and warmth and a delicate touch, a rough and far too large hand closes around his throat, and his eyes fly open.
Logan glares at him, grip on his neck tightening as his eyes narrow, and Bobby can’t see where Rogue disappeared to, can’t see anything beyond the fire in Logan’s eyes, and he feels his hands instinctively freeze to his sheets.
“Stay away from her,” Logan growls and Bobby just stares with wide eyes and tries to focus on something other than the power that exudes from Logan, tries to comprehend what’s happening and where Rogue is and why he didn’t see Logan come into his room.
He’s jerked forward by his neck, nose almost pressed against Logan’s own. Crowded and surrounded, and he feels scorching breath against his cheek. “I mean it, kid,” Logan hisses in a low voice. “If you go near her, I’ll kill you.”
Bobby struggles to breathe, to not have a heart attack. Logan’s threatening him, but all Bobby can see is the fact that Logan’s in his room, on his bed, and Logan’s fingers against his skin don’t just hurt from the strength of his grip, they burn him.
Logan’s a predator, it’s obvious to everyone who sees him, but he’s also tall and dark and angry and arrogant and every quirk of his eyebrow, every twitch of his lips exudes sex and sin and animal passion. Bobby’s fascinated by Rogue, and terrified of Logan, terrified of the way his heart races every time Logan prowls into the room, caged beast at the Mansion that Bobby just can’t stop staring at.
Rogue is so beautiful and so beyond his reach, but Logan’s on a level that Bobby can’t even comprehend, and it’s wrong and impossible, and that just means that Bobby keeps every little half-formed thought and fantasy tightly guarded, because he’s scared Logan will be able to smell the lust on him.
And maybe Logan can smell it, or just see it in his eyes, because something in his expression darkens, becomes a little sharper and Bobby feels like prey as Logan smirks and leans closer.
Closer, too close, and their lips are almost touching, and Bobby’s gaze keeps flickering between Logan’s eyes and his mouth, and Logan just keeps watching him, keeps smirking, and then his grip on Bobby’s throat loosens and Bobby falls back against the pillows.
He can barely catch his breath before Logan bears down on him.
It’s fierce, almost painful, like no other kiss Bobby’s ever experienced. He’d always thought that Logan would taste like cigars and liquor but he tastes of neither, and instead there’s something sharper there that Bobby can’t place, mostly because he can’t shake the haze of confusion that’s taken over his mind. Logan is kissing him. Logan, kissing him like there’s no tomorrow, like he can’t breathe without Bobby’s lips under his own, and Bobby hears himself make a noise that sounds entirely too helpless, and feels Logan smile against him.
Logan’s hands feel huge as they shove Bobby’s t-shirt up his chest, and they’re hot and rough over his exposed skin. Merciless as fingernails rake over him, and Bobby yelps at a pinch to one peaked nipple, but the sound of it is swallowed down under questing lips. Logan’s hands touch everywhere, spread palms rubbing up and down and over, warming him, unravelling him, stoking at the fire that flares within his stomach, and Bobby quickly finds himself writhing under the attention, restless with it, and he’s feeling light-headed and he needs air but he’s worried that if Logan stops kissing him he’ll never start again. It doesn’t feel real, because it doesn’t feel possible, and for a moment Bobby fears he might be dreaming, but Logan’s teeth nipping at his lower lip stings too much to be a dream.
He needs more, but when Logan’s hand dips lower, Bobby still panics, still kicks out. Scared to let Logan see how much he’s effecting him, scared because it’s already too much, and Bobby’s never been so turned on in his life, and if Logan’s hand sinks any lower Bobby’s pretty convinced he’s going to embarrass himself.
But Logan’s weight only shifts over him, presses down against his struggles, and Bobby whines into Logan’s mouth as a strong hand forces its way under the waistband of his boxers and wraps around him. Squeezing a little too fiercely, and Bobby moans and shudders and lets that pressure at the base of his cock stop him from humiliating himself, and he suspects that was the point of it. The thought that Logan knows the effect he’s having, that he wants to draw things out, it’s enough to make Bobby frantic, and Logan’s body is holding him still, but he can’t keep from thrusting up into it, immovable weight above him.
There are spots dancing in front of his eyes, and Bobby feels faint, and he has to jerk his head to the side, has to gulp weakly at the air. And Logan uses his distraction to shove Bobby’s boxers further down, pulls one of Bobby’s legs up with a firm grip just above his knee so he can tug them down over his ankle, and Bobby can only lie there as Logan strips him and settles back between his spread legs.
He feels so exposed, bared to the hungry look in Logan’s eyes, but he’s beyond fighting it, beyond the ability to think, to cover himself. Logan’s hand reaches for him again, circling Bobby’s cock once more, and Bobby makes a choked sound and squeezes his eyes shut.
He feels Logan’s breath on his face, and then Logan’s voice is right at his ear. “Cover your mouth,” Logan whispers, and Bobby whimpers and obeys without thought, and he clamps his own hand over his lips as another anguished sound builds in his throat.
Logan’s hand is sure and practiced as it moves over him, and Bobby still has no idea why Logan’s touching him, and he tries to not think about Logan touching himself, and he just tries not to think of anything beyond the sensation of it. Logan’s warm palm, the ridges of his fingers, thumb pressing against the skin at the head, dipping into the yielding flesh, and Bobby’s damp, leaking pleasure and need, and he hasn’t got long but he wants it to never end.
He can’t open his eyes, but he doesn’t need to. The feral look on Logan’s face is painted across the back of his eyelids, his lip curled in a smirk that reveals the white canines beneath, his eyes lazy and dark with amusement as his hands so deftly manipulate Bobby, so easily pull him closer and closer to orgasm.
Logan’s other hand is there as well, sliding lower, cupping Bobby before slipping down, and it feels strange, and it takes Bobby a second to realise just where Logan’s aiming. He lurches up, but Logan just nudges him back against the mattress as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Bobby’s flushed, squirming away, hand still clamped over his mouth and eyes wide as Logan’s finger finds him, finds his entrance, and it’s the strangest feeling when Logan pushes inside. Bobby wails behind the palm of his hand, feeling himself giving way to the intrusion, yielding to it and the skin there feels more sensitive than Bobby could have ever imagined, and it burns, burns through him, and he feels so taken, and his body can’t stand anymore. He curls forwards, pressing up into Logan, groaning around his own hand as Logan’s finger slides deeper, and Logan’s palm clamps around his cock, and Bobby’s flying over the edge, torn apart and shaking with it. Dizzy and panting and Logan’s finger slips free, his hands leave him before the final drop of his release hits Bobby’s stomach, and Bobby barely feels Logan move off of and away from him.
He feels almost ill with it, head spinning and vision black around the edges, and he can’t stop trembling and his hips are still unconsciously rolling into a friction that’s no longer there.
Bobby’s hand is still covering his mouth, and he looks for Logan but he’s nowhere to be found. All he sees is feminine curves, blue skin and amber eyes that glow cat-like in the dark, and Bobby frowns in confusion but consciousness is already leaving him, body exhausted and shaking. He can’t keep his eyes open, and the last thing he sees before he surrenders to sleep is her smile, smug and satisfied and cruel.
Fandom: X-Men (movieverse)
Pairings: Logan/Bobby, Mystique/Bobby
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2134
Timeline: X1
Notes: For 50_smutlets, prompt "fantasy".
Summary: Mystique needs a face and Bobby needs to wake up.
He’s falling.
He’s falling and he’s trying to scream, but there’s no sound coming out of his mouth, and nobody there to rescue him.
The windows of the building speed past him, faster and faster, as he plummets. The air shrieks and whistles in his ears. He reaches for something that isn’t there, and the ground surges up to meet him.
Bobby gasps and chokes and sits upright, blankets kicked to the floor and sweat on his forehead.
His feet are cold, colder than usual, and he remembers the dream, remembers the way the ice spread from his toes, and he couldn’t control it, and he remembers the skyscraper’s roof growing more and more slippery. He remembers not being able to keep his footing, and he was trying to move towards the centre of the roof but some strange force kept dragging him towards the edge.
He remembers that brief feeling of weightlessness, where for just a single second he thought he might fly.
And then he was falling.
He closes his eyes, scrubs at them furiously, fingers coming away damp and salty. It’s a dream, it was only a dream, and he’s awake and everything is all right.
Only when he opens his eyes, he’s not alone.
She’s standing at the foot of his bed, watching him curiously with an amused smile on her face. A cruel smile.
At first he thinks she’s made of ice, because he’s dreamt of that before, sculptures that move and stalk him through the Mansion and hiss at him for creating them, because he’s unnatural and their existence is pain. She’s illuminated by the eerie light of the moon, it kisses her blue skin and makes her glow.
And then she moves, one finger coming up to her lips, and he can see that she’s flesh, warm and inviting and exposed.
Her smile grows and her eyes narrow and when she takes a step towards him, Bobby scrambles further up the bed, back hitting the headboard. He looks around wildly, searching for something that will tell him this is a dream, and when he turns back to her, she’s gone.
Instead, Rogue stands in front of him, smiling shyly.
He stares dumbly as she moves towards him, her fingers idly tracing a path along the sheets, and she looks so beautiful, hair tousled, full lips parted, looking at him through lidded eyes, and Bobby’s heart aches because he’s been infatuated since she first sat next to him in class.
“Rogue?” he croaks, voice hoarse with sleep and confusion. “What are you doing here?”
Rogue chews on her bottom lip, and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, and he wants to hold her. But he can only watch as she perches on the bed, just out of arm’s reach.
“Bobby?” she whispers, and her accent simultaneously soothes him and sends a shiver down his spine. “You like me, don’t you?”
Bobby stares at her blankly for only a second, still disorientated, and then he nods because his throat is suddenly dry and tight and the most amazing girl he’s ever seen has just crept into his room in the middle of the night and asked about his feelings.
“Good,” Rogue says with a smile that melts away all memories of nightmares. “And I like you, don’t I?”
Bobby blinks at her. “I … I hope so,” he manages.
“Mmm,” Rogue hums, fingers still trailing invisible doodles on his mattress. “And I trust you, don’t I?”
He doesn’t know what to say to that. “I hope so,” he ventures again.
“And if you told me something, even if it was something bad,” she murmurs, fixing him with an intense stare. “I’d believe you, right? Because you’d never lie to me, right?”
He fixates on the last question, because he knows it’s one he can answer truthfully. “I’d never lie to you,” he insists with as much sincerity as he can.
“Good,” Rogue purrs, and he’s not seen that smile on her face before. It’s gone before he can decipher it, and then she’s reaching out to him, hand moving to cup his cheek and he closes his eyes and leans into it.
Instead of soft skin and warmth and a delicate touch, a rough and far too large hand closes around his throat, and his eyes fly open.
Logan glares at him, grip on his neck tightening as his eyes narrow, and Bobby can’t see where Rogue disappeared to, can’t see anything beyond the fire in Logan’s eyes, and he feels his hands instinctively freeze to his sheets.
“Stay away from her,” Logan growls and Bobby just stares with wide eyes and tries to focus on something other than the power that exudes from Logan, tries to comprehend what’s happening and where Rogue is and why he didn’t see Logan come into his room.
He’s jerked forward by his neck, nose almost pressed against Logan’s own. Crowded and surrounded, and he feels scorching breath against his cheek. “I mean it, kid,” Logan hisses in a low voice. “If you go near her, I’ll kill you.”
Bobby struggles to breathe, to not have a heart attack. Logan’s threatening him, but all Bobby can see is the fact that Logan’s in his room, on his bed, and Logan’s fingers against his skin don’t just hurt from the strength of his grip, they burn him.
Logan’s a predator, it’s obvious to everyone who sees him, but he’s also tall and dark and angry and arrogant and every quirk of his eyebrow, every twitch of his lips exudes sex and sin and animal passion. Bobby’s fascinated by Rogue, and terrified of Logan, terrified of the way his heart races every time Logan prowls into the room, caged beast at the Mansion that Bobby just can’t stop staring at.
Rogue is so beautiful and so beyond his reach, but Logan’s on a level that Bobby can’t even comprehend, and it’s wrong and impossible, and that just means that Bobby keeps every little half-formed thought and fantasy tightly guarded, because he’s scared Logan will be able to smell the lust on him.
And maybe Logan can smell it, or just see it in his eyes, because something in his expression darkens, becomes a little sharper and Bobby feels like prey as Logan smirks and leans closer.
Closer, too close, and their lips are almost touching, and Bobby’s gaze keeps flickering between Logan’s eyes and his mouth, and Logan just keeps watching him, keeps smirking, and then his grip on Bobby’s throat loosens and Bobby falls back against the pillows.
He can barely catch his breath before Logan bears down on him.
It’s fierce, almost painful, like no other kiss Bobby’s ever experienced. He’d always thought that Logan would taste like cigars and liquor but he tastes of neither, and instead there’s something sharper there that Bobby can’t place, mostly because he can’t shake the haze of confusion that’s taken over his mind. Logan is kissing him. Logan, kissing him like there’s no tomorrow, like he can’t breathe without Bobby’s lips under his own, and Bobby hears himself make a noise that sounds entirely too helpless, and feels Logan smile against him.
Logan’s hands feel huge as they shove Bobby’s t-shirt up his chest, and they’re hot and rough over his exposed skin. Merciless as fingernails rake over him, and Bobby yelps at a pinch to one peaked nipple, but the sound of it is swallowed down under questing lips. Logan’s hands touch everywhere, spread palms rubbing up and down and over, warming him, unravelling him, stoking at the fire that flares within his stomach, and Bobby quickly finds himself writhing under the attention, restless with it, and he’s feeling light-headed and he needs air but he’s worried that if Logan stops kissing him he’ll never start again. It doesn’t feel real, because it doesn’t feel possible, and for a moment Bobby fears he might be dreaming, but Logan’s teeth nipping at his lower lip stings too much to be a dream.
He needs more, but when Logan’s hand dips lower, Bobby still panics, still kicks out. Scared to let Logan see how much he’s effecting him, scared because it’s already too much, and Bobby’s never been so turned on in his life, and if Logan’s hand sinks any lower Bobby’s pretty convinced he’s going to embarrass himself.
But Logan’s weight only shifts over him, presses down against his struggles, and Bobby whines into Logan’s mouth as a strong hand forces its way under the waistband of his boxers and wraps around him. Squeezing a little too fiercely, and Bobby moans and shudders and lets that pressure at the base of his cock stop him from humiliating himself, and he suspects that was the point of it. The thought that Logan knows the effect he’s having, that he wants to draw things out, it’s enough to make Bobby frantic, and Logan’s body is holding him still, but he can’t keep from thrusting up into it, immovable weight above him.
There are spots dancing in front of his eyes, and Bobby feels faint, and he has to jerk his head to the side, has to gulp weakly at the air. And Logan uses his distraction to shove Bobby’s boxers further down, pulls one of Bobby’s legs up with a firm grip just above his knee so he can tug them down over his ankle, and Bobby can only lie there as Logan strips him and settles back between his spread legs.
He feels so exposed, bared to the hungry look in Logan’s eyes, but he’s beyond fighting it, beyond the ability to think, to cover himself. Logan’s hand reaches for him again, circling Bobby’s cock once more, and Bobby makes a choked sound and squeezes his eyes shut.
He feels Logan’s breath on his face, and then Logan’s voice is right at his ear. “Cover your mouth,” Logan whispers, and Bobby whimpers and obeys without thought, and he clamps his own hand over his lips as another anguished sound builds in his throat.
Logan’s hand is sure and practiced as it moves over him, and Bobby still has no idea why Logan’s touching him, and he tries to not think about Logan touching himself, and he just tries not to think of anything beyond the sensation of it. Logan’s warm palm, the ridges of his fingers, thumb pressing against the skin at the head, dipping into the yielding flesh, and Bobby’s damp, leaking pleasure and need, and he hasn’t got long but he wants it to never end.
He can’t open his eyes, but he doesn’t need to. The feral look on Logan’s face is painted across the back of his eyelids, his lip curled in a smirk that reveals the white canines beneath, his eyes lazy and dark with amusement as his hands so deftly manipulate Bobby, so easily pull him closer and closer to orgasm.
Logan’s other hand is there as well, sliding lower, cupping Bobby before slipping down, and it feels strange, and it takes Bobby a second to realise just where Logan’s aiming. He lurches up, but Logan just nudges him back against the mattress as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Bobby’s flushed, squirming away, hand still clamped over his mouth and eyes wide as Logan’s finger finds him, finds his entrance, and it’s the strangest feeling when Logan pushes inside. Bobby wails behind the palm of his hand, feeling himself giving way to the intrusion, yielding to it and the skin there feels more sensitive than Bobby could have ever imagined, and it burns, burns through him, and he feels so taken, and his body can’t stand anymore. He curls forwards, pressing up into Logan, groaning around his own hand as Logan’s finger slides deeper, and Logan’s palm clamps around his cock, and Bobby’s flying over the edge, torn apart and shaking with it. Dizzy and panting and Logan’s finger slips free, his hands leave him before the final drop of his release hits Bobby’s stomach, and Bobby barely feels Logan move off of and away from him.
He feels almost ill with it, head spinning and vision black around the edges, and he can’t stop trembling and his hips are still unconsciously rolling into a friction that’s no longer there.
Bobby’s hand is still covering his mouth, and he looks for Logan but he’s nowhere to be found. All he sees is feminine curves, blue skin and amber eyes that glow cat-like in the dark, and Bobby frowns in confusion but consciousness is already leaving him, body exhausted and shaking. He can’t keep his eyes open, and the last thing he sees before he surrenders to sleep is her smile, smug and satisfied and cruel.