Will a threesome pic work?...It does have a Flash in it (i have four of these all from old threads still i enjoy them)

Can I request Fic of Bart and The corresponding Robin? I am not too much into comic-verses but I do love Bart and Robin and them together is just. UNF Like the pictures h ere make me crave fic. Is there an archive somewhere?

>>59431
Here you go. http://comics.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=544215616

Very short but still pretty good http://comics.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600060159

Go on.

>>59498
>Ricken
>2010

ohmygodwheredidyougetthat

>>59500

Her website! She's working on something for Blue Beetle atm...

http://ricken.tank.jp/joey/bee/00.html

Thank you anon for providing me with fics! It scratched my itch.

we need more Quicksilver up in this place...i recently commissioned this one

>>62685

Agreed. And this is lovely.

I'm usually the first one to cringe at wincest, but I REALLY need a Quicksilver x Speed pic. They aren't -genetically- related I guess.

OF COURSE by the time someone else requests Pietro art my hard drive gets wiped by a virus. I had so much too. T_T

Hehehe.

But, here's something for real.

>>62726
the artist is still taking commissions, i'm putting in one for Wally West/Batman next woot!

>>62810
Where is that from?

>>62727
I don't have art, but there is this fic: http://naturalcyber.livejournal.com/7342.html

>>62881
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marvel_1602

For once, Marvel came up with something really marvelous. Might have to do something with that Neil Gaiman guy tho.

>>63009

pietro and st. john amirite?

>>63182
Yerrite.

BTW, there's no dumping option here, right...? I mean, for uploading more pics at once. Because I just realized I have a Lance/Pietro comic, from some imgboard, probs 4chan? Sketchy thing, but kinda nice.

i am totally in love with lietro, so dump away!

You mean one of renka's doujin? There's four of them, I think. If you don't have all I could dump 'em again.

>>63504
>>63246
Yes, please!

>>63504
I have NO idea. The title is "Heaven Forbid" I think, aaand, I suppose it's just one doujin, so... dump away.

time to dump some Pietro, one of my fave speedsters

i see rainrach is one of your fave artists too! here's one of my faves of hers

then so am i. glad to see there's another avalanche/quicksilver fan on here

Whoops, I forgot about this. Here's renka's doujin, 60 seconds, Heaven Forbid, Hell is closer than you think, and schoolrush. Fair warning, Hell is closer than you think has incest in it. They're all porny, though.

http://www.sendspace.com/file/0l5p57

time for some freaking yaoi up in here with a speedster (Quicksilver). part 1 of 5 i've written so far, will probably be just 6 chaps, 7 at the most. starts slow, ends hotter.
***

The other Brotherhood boys went straight to the kitchen as their leader stomped past them. Avalanche's face contorted into something almost unrecognizable and he fisted his hands in his hair as he crashed through the house.

Toad's eyes widened at the sound of Avalanche's heavy boots crashing up the stairs in anger. "How mad do you think he is yo?"

A snarky sigh emanated from behind the open refrigerator door, "And 3…2…" the silver haired teen counted down. The loud slam of Alvers' door put the cherry on top of the Brotherhood's already craptastic night. Quicksilver sniffed disdainfully at his amphibious cohort as he made a huge sandwich in 4 seconds. "Let me think," he said sarcastically, tapping a slim finger on his pointed chin, "The X-men have like 3 times as many people as us, so they whipped our asses again, Lance completely lost control and blasted a sinkhole a hundred yards across, which his jeep promptly fell into, and on top of that Blob was caught by the cops!"

Toad swallowed nervously and looked up at the sound of thumps coming from the ceiling directly over his head and right under Alvers' stompy feet. He sidled a few steps to the right until he stood under the door jamb, "So…yeh….guess he's mad."

"Idiot," Pietro sighed as he finished his sandwich in a blur. "I think complete fucking pissed off is more accurate. And where the hell are we going to get bail money for Fred? We are BROKE!" His voice hit a volume that made dogs bark a street over.

As if in answer there came a sharp crack of something shattering upstairs. Toad winced and hopped into the den, turning on the TV and cranking up the volume to drown out Quicksilver's shouted "Goddamnit, Alvers!" as the speed demon sprinted upstairs and began hammering on his teammate's door.

"Quit throwing a fucking tantrum, Avalanche! It's not like this is the first time we lost!" We're losers. It's what we do! Now quit breaking shit!" Pietro yelled through the door as his hand beat an accelerated tattoo against the creaking wood.

"Argh, go away," Lance's voice muttered darkly and Pietro heard another thump as something heavy hit the floor.

"Hey, I TOLD you to"-Pietro threw his shoulder against the locked door "QUIT" again "BREAKING" it was giving now "SHIT!" The lock crashed through the already frail doorjamb, splintering it as the door crashed open and slammed heavily into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. The weak light from the dirty bulb in the hallway cast a sparse strip of illumination into the otherwise dark room. As he stepped over the threshold Pietro's boot crunched down on something. He toed it aside and stared into the shadows as he snarked, "Why you bust the fucking lamp? It didn't sink your jeep, boulders for brains." Pietro reached over and flipped up the switch for the overhead light.

"Fuck, turn off the light!" Alvers was standing next to his bed with his back to the door, clutching his skull. "It's too bright," the darker boy snarled.

"Whatever Dracula," Pietro rolled his eyes. "You need to come downstairs and help us figure out how to get Fred out of j-"

"Argh!" The earthshaker's legs suddenly contracted under him and he kneeled almost spastically, bent double, and ground his face into the floor, "Fuuuuuuck, hurts" he moaned.

"What the -" Pietro stammered, surprised at the genuine sound of pain, not anger, in his teammate's voice. He slapped the light off and scrambled over to his captain. "Dude, what's wrong? Did one of the X-men-" he hissed, crouching by the folded over form of his teammate.

"My head," the brunette moaned. "My powers….too hard, ugh, too long…shit, feels like a drill behind my eyes." One of his hands suddenly left his head and shoved right into Pietro's surprised face, knocking him aside. The silver-haired teen gave an angry huff at the abrupt facepalm that he quickly bit back as his friend vomited heavily into the nearby wastebasket. Wrinkling his aquiline noise, Pietro fished around in the near dark and snagged one of Lance's t-shirts, which littered the floor in abundance. When the bigger boy lifted his head weakly after emptying his stomach Pietro handed it to him to wipe his face.

"Light makes it worse?" Avalanche nodded carefully, one hand clutching his forehead as though the slight movement would cause his aching brain to crack into a thousand shards. "Let me guess, you get dizzy if you sit or stand up?" Quicksilver queried, mentally checking off a little list as Alvers gave a grunt the silver boy assumed was a yes. "You got a migraine, man. A bad one." Pietro slung one of Lance's arms around his neck, careful to avoid coming into contact with any residual barf, "C'mon you have to lie down. I got you."

The brunette heaved himself to his feet with his friend's help, "What you a doctor now?" he said weakly but with familiar sarcasm.

"Just because I don't care enough about school to do any work, doesn't mean I don't know anything," Pietro snapped waspishly as he none-too-gently plopped his friend on his bed. "You know I don't sleep more than ," the smaller teen buzzed irritably, his speed overtaking him as usual when he was huffy.

"English," Lance muttered as one forearms came up to lie heavily over his eyes, covering most of his face, which was strained in obvious tension. Pietro took a breath, held it for what felt like 2 days to the speed freak but was actually only 3 seconds in normal time. "I read a lot, ok. Anything, everything that catches my eye, medical journals and magazines lately. Migraines can last hours easily and can get a lot worse." Lance moaned angrily then winced as the pain intensified with a sharp throb that made his teeth clench.

Pietro tutted prissily at his patient, "Chill out, Lance, I picked up a few ideas that might help," When Lance made a weak shrug the speedster was gone in a flash and back just as quickly. A wonderfully cool, damp cloth was pressed to Lance's forehead as his teammate's hands pulled off the shoulder and chest plates of his dark blue uniform.

Avalanche pushed away the silver haired teen's hand from the zipper at his throat, "I can do it myself." Sitting up on one elbow as he unzipped and pulled off his uniform top made his head spin and the room wobbled dangerously to the left. Lance firmly squashed down the urge to lean over the bedside and puke again.

Pietro stifled a smirk that threatened to sneak over his face at Lance's ill-disguised nausea and typical tough guy attitude. It was pretty clear he wanted to spew but Mr. Macho was in the house. But he swallowed any jibe he's planned as his captain sunk back on the bed again with quick grimace of pain as the migraine throbbed once more, like it was pounding his head apart from the inside out.

"Ok, a bunch of doctors say acupressure on certain nerve points can help. Just don't get all weird on me," Pietro quipped as he sat on the edge of the bed, next to Lance's sprawled form, grabbed one of the other teen's hands, and began pressing into the web between the thumb and first finger as he looked for the right pressure point. "Or a hard-on," he teased his friend.

Lance snorted inelegantly, "Pietro, you might be gay as a picnic basket and a remorseless slut, but even your standards aren't this low. I'm dying." Then he then winced as something that felt like a hot wire stabbed at the back of his eyes.

"Ok, Mr. Invalid, you're obviously not dying if you have enough energy to be a catty bitch." Quicksilver smirked as he felt the right nerve point and began to massage it with firm pressure.

"Not yet. Still, keep it above the waist," Lance returned with dark humor.

"Whatever, Neanderthal. You know I like my boys twink as a Disney character anyway, so don't worry that I'll lose myself to temptation," Pietro scooted up the bed a bit and reached for the crook of Lance's shoulder where it met his still battle-grimed neck, using just the tip of two fingers to press and rub small determined circles at the correct spot. "Your smell alone is putting me off big time."

Lance shifted, the damp cloth sliding over his eyes, "Yeh, Toad tried to slime Daniels and got me." Quicksilver repressed a shudder and used his knee to nudge Lance's nasty uniform top off the bed and onto the floor.

"Huh, that does help," Lance said quietly, a surprised tone in his voice, as Pietro's small ministrations on his neck made the flaring pain recede a bit. Pietro resisted the urge to say "Told you so," and instead leaned slightly over his friend to work the other side of the boy's neck, careful to avoid any lingering traces of barf or slime.

"A bit better," the brunette sighed, his breath ghosting lightly over Pietro's neck as the silver haired youth leaned back.

Pietro smothered a small flinch at the prickling intimacy of the sensation on his skin. Bleh, Lance was just so…Lance. Who had been slimed and had almost hurled all over him. Eurgh. This was his teammate and someone who clearly didn't know how to use hair products, in addition to an unwashed dirty laundry list of other blargh things. But Alvers was a friend who needed a little help, so Quicksilver resolved to think of England and carry on.

Pietro got another washcloth from the bathroom and wet it, then returned to his captain's room. "At least clean yourself up a bit, you're gross." Lance sat up on one elbow as he swiped away the grime and smoke of the battle from his face and neck, as Pietro sat behind him on the bed and began working the nerve point at the base of his skull.

"Guh…ahh…better," Lance sighed and leaned more heavily into his friend's ministering hands.

Pietro sucked in a breath as the brunette leaned his back again his stomach and relaxed. "Don't get too comfortable," he snipped as his finger pressed again and again into the softer spot between the cords of muscle that ran the sides of Avalanche's neck. The dark teen grunted noncommittally even as he leaned more of his weight back into Pietro's touch.

The speedster sighed internally and moved his hands around Lance's head to rest pale fingertips on either side of the earth-shakers nose and pressed gently but grimly and he slid his finger up between his eyebrows and back out again to his temples, steadily releasing the painful sinus pressure. The pads of his finger rolled small circles into his friend's temples for a few moments, then returned to their starting point and started the sweep over again. Then again. And again.

Lance's breathing evened out and the vein that had been visibly throbbing in his forehead slowly disappeared. Pietro, usually so accustomed to life at near light speed, found himself relaxing at the measured pace of Avalanche's breath, the slow and steady up and down bellow of his chest as he relaxed. The slow thump of the dark teen's pulse under his fingers as he once again traced his nose, then forehead, temple, then cheeks with each pass started to zone out the silver haired mutant. Absently as his finger once again swirled over Lance's temples, his threaded his finger briefly into the hair and stroked back once, before again returning to the slow, hypnotic circles of the bigger boy's face. Cheeks, nose, eyebrows, forehead, temple, hair, return. Once more. Again.

After an indeterminate time, Pietro heard a light snore and realized his teammate was finally asleep. He shifted slightly to work his way out from under Lance's pressing weight, then froze as one sleepy hand wrapped gently around his forearm, keeping it in place just over the dark boy's chest. Avalanche's muttered something in his doze and his hand tightened once then relaxed as he fell once again into deeper slumber.

Pietro sighed, not wanting to disturb his friend's much needed rest, and grumpily settled back. As he sat there irritably calculating a list of way his friend owed him one, his fingers once again settled in dark hair and began an absent-minded rhythm.

There was gore, flying body parts of varying shapes and sizes, and blood. Absolute buckets of it.

Quicksilver wrinkled his nose at the poster, "I'm don't really want to see this, guys."

"Yo, it was your turn last time, and we had to watch some 2 hour bullshit about penguins." Toad hopped up and down in place with excitement. "This week I get to pick so get ready for 'Zombies Eat Your Face'! YEAH!" He hopped again and high fived Fred.

"Aw right, bring on the zombies!" Lance clenched his fist with excitement and the sidewalk shifted under their feet. Several people stumbled and the crowd muttered, looking around with worry.

Pietro shot a speedy elbow into his friend's side. "Cool it, Lance!" he hissed, "Don't bring the house down." The brunette gave a half-hearted shrug as he ambled over to the concession stand and pushed his way to the front of the line, ignoring the yells of "Hey, no cuts!" and greeting others with glares that shut up the complainers.

Halfway through the movie, Pietro was positively contorted in his cramped theater seat, rocking back and forth with one leg tucked up him, the other drawn up until his chin rested on his knee, with one arm wrapped around him holding himself tightly. His free hand squeezed his sugar-free, caffeine-free, taste-free soda so tightly he was in danger of crushing the cup.

He hate, hate, HATED scary movies.

When the zombies tore into their first victim he'd squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made the squishing, ripping, and slurping noises blaring from the surround sound that much worse. He tried to plug his finger in his ears while keeping his eye shut, but Fred and Todd pulled his hands free, insisting he was missing the best part. If by best part they meant the high-speed anatomy lesson splashing in front of them in IMAX clarity, then he would have been thrilled to miss it.

Pietro alternated between strained swallows as he tried to keep down the popcorn that wanted to make reappearance each time intestines went flying, and clenching his teeth to keep the shrieks of fright that bubbled up from his gut each time the undead burst through a wall to throttle another victim.

Lance, seated between the silver haired teen and Toad while Fred took up most of the row behind them, shot a side glance at his friend. Pietro's huge pale eyes were glued to the screen as a scantily clad girl ran down a dark alley as he muttered, "Don't go in there, don'tgo inthere, don'tgointheredon'tgointheredon'tgointhere." He was positively trembling with anxiety and the effort to smother the urge to scream as a shambling figure missing at least two limbs pursued the fleeing girl.

Lance elbowed Tolansky on his other side then jerked his head at Quicksilver, mouthing, "Watch this."

Lance kept one eye on the screen and the other on his teammate, as the girl realized she was trapped and the zombie staggered closer. The music wound up to a fever pitch and Pietro's eyes were as wide as saucers. He chanted"Lookuplookulookuplookupstupid!" and the hand holding his drink trembled. Another zombie dropped from the ceiling onto the terrified girl who let out a deafening blood curdling screed, the audience screamed, and Lance grabbed the blonde's knee and shouted, "RRRRAAAAAAWWWWWRRRRR!"

Pietro jumped straight into the air with a high-pitched shriek, arms and legs flailing, and dumped soda all over himself and Lance. Despite the soaking, Avalanche and Toad collapsed with laughter as Pietro stood in the aisle, shivering and stark white with surprise. His hummingbird-speed heart rate skyrocketed from the shock until all he could feel was a pounding buzz that thundered in his ears. He glowered at the two idiots he was forced to live with, an ugly look passing over his normally smooth features. He grabbed the giant tub of popcorn from Fred and upended it over Lance's head, showering him in kernels and synthetic butter. He then jammed the bucket down on the laughing brunette's head and gave it a few solid thumps before he rocketed out of the theater to return home for a shower. Sprite soda was surprisingly sticky and by the time he sprinted to the restroom he thought he might have some kind of friction burn from running in wet jeans.

Pietro cursed and muttered to himself as he showered, "Stupid asshole, going to kill you, $10apopseehowfunnyyouthinkitis!" He tried his damnedest to run out the hot water but after 5 minutes in the shower, 4:30 longer than he normally took he couldn't take it any more and stormed to his room, utterly waterlogged. He wore a track in the carpet down to the padding as he paced in anger, thinking unimaginable tortures to visit upon the unluckiest rocktumbler in Bayville.

Plotting and scheming took a lot out of a mutant apparently because Pietro woke up to the sound of his housemates as they crashed noisily into the house after the movie. Cursing them, Pietro yanked a pillow over his head and tried to ignore that the 3 boys made only slightly less noise than a rampaging herd of rabid buffaloes. The pounding on his door only made him burrow his head further under the pillow.

"C'mon Pietro, you're not still pouting in there, are you?" Lance's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"I am NOT POUTING!" Quicksilver cringed at the whiny sound of his voice. "Just leave me alone!" He flung the pillow at the door with enough speed that it burst with a flurry of cheep stuffing.

"Whatever, man, you just can't take a joke." Lance sounded impossibly amused and the chuckle that followed him down the fall grated on Pietro's nerves like a thousand nails on a chalkboard.

At the sound of the shower and Lance's happy humming in the bathroom, an evil smirk crossed Pietro's face. If Todd or Fred had found that malicious expression directed at them they could have beaten even Quicksilver's speed for crossing state lines. The silver teen darted down to the kitchen and was outside the bathroom door in a flash.

Listening to his housemate's unconcerned humming stoked the flames of Pietro's anger even higher. Make a fool of Quicksilver, would he? We'll see.

The bathroom door proved no obstacle, thanks to Tabitha blasting the lock out months earlier. He pressed one eye to the crack and saw a billow of steam spill over the top of the shower curtain and heard his teammate's oblivious humming as the boy cleaned up, unaware of his impending doom lurking just feet away.

Pietro crept as slowly and quietly as his normally fizzing reflexes allowed and stood at the end of the tub, listening carefully until the time was right. Lance was humming low and slow as the water pattered down in a soothing fall, curls of steam seeped through the cracks in the curtain, and the smell of Old Spice body wash wafting on the saturated air.

Slender pale fingers teased the edge of the curtain momentarily as Pietro waited for the right moment. Lance's hums burbled as he apparently ducked his head under the spray for a rinse. In a flash Pietro ripped back the curtain and raised the giant butcher knife high as he let out a piercing scream that shattered the mirror over the sink. "AAAAAAEEEEIIIIIIIII!"

Lance whirled in surprise, the hand that hand been grasping his cock flew up to cover his head as he saw Pietro lunging at him with the knife, the razor's edge flashing in the cheap fluorescent light. "AAAGGGGHHHHHH!" His other hand shot out for something to hold onto and grabbed the shower curtain just as his foot hit a patch of body wash under his feet. He went ass over elbows over the edge of the tub, tearing down the shower curtain in the process as he shouted, "DON'T KILL ME!"

Pietro clutched his sides in hysterical laughter as his friend scrabbled on the floor away from him, the shower curtain flailing around as it tangled with Lance's legs and one arm. Todd and Fred appeared in the doorway, took one look at Lance fighting the grimy curtain and doubled over with laughter. When Lance raised his head and shot them amurderous glare they quickly shuffled away, still snickering.

As the earthshaker clambered to his feet, cursing the stupid curtain as it refused to let go of his legs and caused him to hop on one foot ungracefully Pietro twirled the knife lazily between his fingers. He smirked as Lance finally kicked away the curtain with a final well chosen swear.

"You scared the shit out of me with the knife!" Lance shouted.

"Not so funny now, huh, rock head?"

"I could've bashed my brains out falling out of the tub!" he growled at the arrogant silver-haired teen eying him with undisguised glee.

"Would've needed something a lot stronger than tile to smash out those rocks you call brains," Pietro laughed again.

Lance kicked the destroyed curtain to the corner of the bathroom then leaned into the severely cracked mirror to eye the growing goose egg that was blooming on his forehead from where he'd banged his head. "Not funny Pietro!" he snarled at the fractured reflection of his teammate. He prodded the swelling lump with one finger and winced, then turned to shoot a dirty look at his friend. "That was so not the same as me scaring you in the theater."

"Oooooh, didn't know there were rules in a prank war," Quicksilver said sleekly as he eyed his disgruntled teammate. Then he EYED him, up and down, and flushed red. He coughed pointedly.

"What?" Lance thundered stalking towards Pietro, knife be damned, he was going to throw the little speed demon through a wall when he got his hands on him.

Pietro coughed again, "For god's sake, cover that up!" He flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet as his eyes unwillingly darted down once more.

Lance's eyes followed his and he looked down, the erection he'd had the shower having deflated significantly since the abrupt interruption of what had promised to be an overdue wank. He snorted and reached for the one towel that looked slightly less nasty than the others on the rack. He scoffed at Pietro as he wound it around his waist, "For a queer, you sure seem to have a problem looking at another guy's junk."

Pietro stiffened and the knife in his fingers stopped twirling. Lance took a half-step back as he remembered the knife. The silver-haired teen collected himself quickly and sniffed disdainfully, "I do not have a problem looking at guy's junk, just yours."

His embarrassment and anger combined into a rather lurid flush across his tanned face. "Hey, what wrong with my junk?" Lance flared.

"Oh nothing, nothing," Pietro said airily now that said junk was safely covered, although it still tented the towel somewhat. Before he could stop his always overactive brain, a flash of what he'd seen in the shower right before he'd screamed flashed before his eyes. Lance with one forearm braced against the shower wall, the muscles in his shoulder and back tense as his free hand circled and grasped the tan shaft. The thumb on top teasing the head as strong fingers toyed with the hard veins that ridged the underside. Lance's face upturned to the weak shower spray, dark wet hair smoothed back again his skull, lips slightly parted as he hummed in pleasure.

Pietro shook his head quickly to jar the disturbing mental image out of his brain. Then he gave Lance a special look he reserved for the X-men and dissections in biology class, one that resulted in his lip curling on one side. "It's just attached to YOU," he said with as much disgust as he could manage.

Another mental image swept over him before Pietro could school his thoughts. Tanned buttocks clenching and relaxing as the stroke carried up then back again, Lance humming deep in his throat at the sensation of his hands and the water sliding over his head, beading over shoulders before the drops traced lazy trails over bunched muscle as they travelled down to sink into the sharp V at his hip and disappear inward.

"Up here, dude," a deep, amused voice interrupted Pietro's little flashback. He wrenched his eyes up from where they had, against his will, meandered down to the cord of tendon and flesh at his teammate's hip where it disappeared into a towel that clearly needed more coverage capability.

Pietro looked up into the brunette's dark eyes that felt like that were burning a hole into him and swallowed audibly, before he said confidently, "I've seen better," not at all feeling as arrogant as he sounded. He resisted the urge to take a step back from the dark teen, suddenly feeling like his personal space was being crowded even though the other boy leaned back again the sink, one strong arm raised to ruffled his damp hair with another towel.

Lance turned his back to the silver-haired teen and started lathering shaving cream onto his stubbled cheeks. He caught Pietro's eye in the cracked mirror and winked. "Uh-huh, you just keep telling yourself that."

Oh god YESSSSSSSSS. GambitGirl please update soon! <3 Silly love/hate is my favorite flavor of Lietro!

Thanks waterdove, you wish is my command!
***
(Damn post limit, posted in 2 parts)

"Damn, it's hot, yo," Todd muttered, flapping one webbed hand at his face in an effort to cool down.

"We know," Pietro drawled sarcastically as he flicked a sweaty lock of silver hair out of his eyes.

"It's ain't fair, yo, the hottest night of the summer so far and the power goes out," the amphibious boy groused.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't have died if SOMEONE didn't have to have the thermostat at 68 degrees. The A/C is like 40 years old, it can't handle it," Lance muttered, shooting a dirty look at Blob.

The gigantic teen ruffled a hand over his wilting Mohawk. "I don't like to sweat while I sleep," he said with a shrug.

"But it's okay to sweat when you walk, when you sit, when you talk, hell even when you eat right?" Pietro huffed, once again batting a sticky hank of snowy hair from his cheek.

"You're one to talk," Todd snarked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he crouched on one arm of the ratty sofa parked on the front porch where the Brotherhood boys had decamped when the power went out, and they realized the inside of the house was hotter than outdoors. "Who blasts the stereo while they blow dry their hair? You can't even hear the music, yo."

"Just because some of us don't care about their appearance-"

"Ok, knock it the fuck off," Lance barked, silencing the bickering. "We all messed up." He'd been running several power tools in the garage while trying to shim a rotor and fix a busted axel on his jeep while Todd used the stove. They all had a hand in blowing half the circuits in the dilapidated boarding house, and there was no use to trying to fight their way through the junky basement in the pitch dark tonight. Best leave it until morning.

"So shut up and deal, Speedy," Lance pointed a finger at Pietro's sweaty face and got the middle finger in response, even as the cards were passed out at lightning speed.

They boys gathered around an old Coleman gas lantern on a battered coffee table on the porch, shirtless in the heat and sweating hard in the muggy summer humidity. To pass the time and boredom, as a result of having no TV, music, or anything else to do, they played poker. Almost completely broke, they had no money to gamble but traded chores, dares, homework, and any other creative bargain they could think of.

"Ante up."

"Make breakfast 3 mornings in a row."

"I see that bullshit."

"I raise cleaning the bathroom."

"How many times?"

"How long's it been since someone cleaned it?"

"I dunno, months?"

"Ugh, I think once is enough for now. No need to kill anyone."

"Alright, you pussy. Call."

"Your dad's a pussy."

"I don't know my dad, so for all we know he is a pussy."

"Shut up and show your hand."

"Heh, two pair. Fours and jacks."

"Fuck me!"

"Only if you ask nicely." Pietro fluttered his eyelashes exaggeratedly at the Toad as he scooped the betting slips away from the other teen and towards himself.

"Not so fast, Quickdraw," Lance stilled the pale hand with his dark calloused one. "Trip 8s. Don't forget to use bleach on the tub, I want pancakes for breakfast, and don't even think about putting bleach in the food."

"Fuck me!"

"Only if you ask nicely," Lance laughed and swept the slips to his side of the table.

"Ha, nice one, you!" Toad cackled from his perch.

Blob belched his agreement, loud and wet, as Pietro rolled his eyes. Lance took a swig from his rapidly warming beer, gave a long rumbling burp, paused to take a breath then finished it up with a nice staccato "fuck. all. you" at the end.

Toad and Blob bent over laughing as snowy haired teen made another disgusted noise through his nose.

"You are such a girl, Pietro." Avalanche punched his friend in the shoulder.

The pale teen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you are all disgusting," he huffed then took a deep breath and-

"!"

The sound of three jaws hitting the grimy porch was all that could be heard as the monster belch echoed then faded.

"THAT is how it's done." Pietro smirked arrogantly, shuffling the cards at lightning speed with one hand as he stuck one finger under Lance's chin and shut the other boy's mouth with an audible click.

"Christ, I think I tasted that one," Blob muttered with awe. The only sound that was heard for a few long moments was the patter of rain as the storm that had been threatening all evening finally broke over their neighborhood.

"A girl, eh?" Pietro grinned at Lance as the dark teen's surprised expression melted into a wide grin and he shook his head in mute appreciation of his pal's range of talents.

Several more hands passed, with the take evenly split between Pietro and Blob: dishes were covered for a week, trash for a month, and Blob had to walk to school for 3 days while Pietro had to do the grocery shoplifting for this weekend.

This hand was brutal, every boy convinced he had it in the bag, and the bets were getting more and more ridiculous and crazy. Move Principal Kelly's car to the roof of the gym, sneak into the X-mansion and steal Cyke's uniform, attempt to pants the Wolverine during the next battle, spit-shine Xavier's head. On and on it went until they ran out of ideasat least until the growing breeze from the storm wafted Toad's ripe scent downwind.

"Ugh! Todd has to take a bath," the green teen's eyes widened comically in horror at Lance's suggestion, "every week," his mouth was open and slack as a fish on the shore, "for a MONTH." His brown eyes narrowed sharply at the smelly teen as Fred and Pietro cackled evilly at his shoulders.

"No way, man. No way!" Toad gasped in panic.

"You fold?" Lance tapped the edge of his cards on the table, his face giving away nothing but amusement.

"I-"the green boy swallowed audibly. "Ihell no! If I win none of YOU can take a shower for a month." He grinned yellow teeth at the discomfort that flitted over his teammates' faces.

"I fold," Quicksilver announced decisively. "No way do I want any of that action. I just spent a fortune at Bath & Body Works, and I haven't event tried out their new White Tea & Ginger bath gel." Blob folded also with no comment.

The absurdity of what the silver teen said flew over Lance's head as he mulled over not bathing for a month versus having a month to clear the house of Todd's natural funk. "You're on, show 'em if you got 'em," he decided.

Todd threw down his cards with a flourish and hopped up and down on the sofa's arm. "Full house, yo. Ah yeah, Ah yeah, get it get it get it!" A little cabbage patch, some running man, a little hammertime, and Todd was on stinky cloud 9.

"Royal flush," Lance grinned and fanned the Ace through 10 of clubs under the celebrating teen's nose. "Pietro, get the soap."

"What? No!" Todd shrieked and tried to run, but Fred's meaty arm shot out and caught him in a wriggling, thrashing headlock.

Lance and Fred dragged the squealing frog boy out into the pouring rain, ignoring his screams for mercy. Fred held his arms up and behind his head in a fell nelson as Lance held his breath and dragged the younger boy's pants down and off, leaving him shivering in only his ratty boxers.

Pietro appeared in a blur of pale skin and hair, his mouth and nose covered with a pollen mask, yellow rubber gloves up to his elbows, the never used toilet brush in one hand, and a bottle of Palmolive dishwashing liquid in the other.

Lance shot an eyebrow at his friend's attire and choice of weapons. "We need the strongest stuff we have for this job," Pietro reminded him as he doused the toilet brush with the soap. "Gird your loins boys, I'm going in!" he cackled as he attacked the Toad with the brush and bubbles, going right for his armpits.

It took both Blob and Avalanche to immobilize the squirming teen enough for every foul nook, cranny, and crevice to receive a thorough and merciless scrubbing at the hands of the laughing speed demon. By the time they were done, Todd was a whimpering, squeaky clean limp mutant, all the fight gone out of him.

Blob finally put the teen down, but Lance kept one firm hand around his buddy's throat. "Don't even think about rolling in anything, Todd. Got it?" The serious look on his face softened as his little friend sniffled and nodded before shuffling back into the dark house and up to his room to cry inconsolably into his pillow at being sofresh.

Fred followed, determined to not let any food go to waste in the slowly warming fridge, leaving Pietro and Lance standing in the front yard in the pouring rain. The dark teen turned his face up to the sky, letting the downpour slam down on him, and laughed long and hard. Pietro couldn't resist the infectious sounds of his friend's laugher and tittered as he ripped the mask off his face and stripped the gloves to throw them into the growing muddy bog under his feet.

He bent over at the waist as his giggles got the better of him, "Did-you-see-his-face-"the silver boy gasped between laughs.

"Oh god, he acted like that brush was a gun or something!" Lance hooted and slapped his teammate on the back, not calculating that the force, coupled with Pietro's bent over state of hysterics, would launch the snowy teen face first into the muck. When the smaller teen's blue eyes opened and flared at him from a face full of mud, Lance struggled to steel his expression into something properly remorseful. Quicksilver aiming that sort of look at anyone was enough to send a shiver down one's spine.

Before he could form an apology, a slim leg shot out behind his knees, and the earthshaker went down on his back with a splat and a positive fountain of muddy water from the churned up lawn.

"Oh, so it's like that, eh?" He grinned at his teammate, a flash of lighting illuminating his bright smile so it stood in stark relief to his tan skin and the muddy water streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh yeh, man, it's on! Gimme your best shot," Pietro dared, crouched and grinning, as his captain sat up and clenched his fist. The already slippery mud under their feet liquefied as the ground trembled.

"Can't use that speed if you can't keep your feet under you," Lance taunted as the earth roiled and shifted under the speedster.

"Who said anything about feet?" the filth-spattered pale teen laughed as his hands blurred and suddenly dozens of handfuls of mud pelted the dark boy like a Gatling gun. He raised his hands blindly to shield his face and the ground stopped moving. A moment later he was lifted off the ground at the speed demon wrapped his arms around his waist and heaved, so the rocktumbler went ass over elbows to land on his side in the mud.

"You're stronger than you look," he panted, grinning from his prone position at Pietro standing over his, a crazy gleam in his eye as the lighting flashed again and a roll of thunder boomed so loudly the ground shook with no help from the mutant.

""I'm full of surprises," the smaller laughed as he held out one hand as a peace offering, grabbed his friend's forearm, and leaned back to pull him up.

Lance allowed his friend to drag him to his feet before he locked his hand over the offered forearm and pulled hard, his free hand gripping Pietro's wrist as the other teen tried to twist away from the trap. Lance spun them suddenly and had his teammate pressed against him, back to front, his arm bent into an arm lock that forced Pietro's wrist up between his shoulder blades. He leaned forward and pressed his cheek into Pietro muddy hair. "Surprises, yeh," he rasped, and the other teen shivered despite himself.

Pietro's breath stumbled at the heated caress of Lance's breath in his ear and unconsciously arched his back at the sensation. Suddenly he was shoved away and free ; for a moment he felt a twinge of regret then shook himself hard to clear his head. Circling warily he leveled an appraising look at Avalanche, water streaming from his long hair and into his eyes as the dark teen copied his motions and slid to his left, completing the circle.

"C'mon, make your move, Rockstar," Pietro challenged, bracing his back foot on one of the few patches of solid earth left in the mire. Lance unknowingly telegraphed his next move as Pietro's quick sight caught the subtle shift of weight to his right foot and his strong hips turning to add force to the impending lunge. As the dark teen threw himself forward, Pietro neatly pivoted on his back foot and Lance dove right past him, sliding in the mud several feet before he came to a rest with the silver teen suddenly on his back.

A filthy but slender and powerful arm snaked around his throat as Lance tried to push up against the surprisingly heavy weight of his teammate. He managed to get to his knees before Pietro, with a shimmy of his hips against his backside, neatly tucked on thigh between Lance's and shoved his legs apart, overbalancing him so he once again fell into the muck.

"Gotcha!" Pietro taunted as he pushed down once more. Lance's head came up with a curse, hitting him right in the nose. Pietro gasped at the pain and the momentary loosening of his grip gave Alvers' all the advantage he needed to flip them both and pin Pietro under him. He gripped the other teen's hands in his larger grip and pinned them over his head.

"Ha! Can't top me, Pietro! Now I got YOU," Lance panted heavily, his chest pushing down into his friend's with every ragged breath of exertion. Quicksilver's eyes widened at the blatant innuendo and the sensual crush of the larger teen's strong torso pinning him to the earth. So strong and solid, and suddenly Pietro's heart raced from something unrelated to the fight.

A blinding flash of light and the world shattered with a crash that shook the ground beneath them. Lance fell off his friend and stared as a second bolt of lightning hit the transformer at the end of the street. Pietro rolled over in time to see it explode in a spectacular shower of sparks and the entire neighborhood plunged into darkness. The only light the continuing stabs of wildfire from the skies.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YEAH!" Lance shouted at the sight, punching one grimy fist into the air. Pietro gaped at him, his mouth open is shock.

"Are you crazy? Let's go inside!" He crawled to his knees and tried to grab Lance's elbow to drag him indoors.

The bigger boy shook him off, "Hell no! Did you see that! That's fucking awesome! YEAH!" Lance shrugged him off and stood up, fists clenched over his head as he shouted, celebrating the raw power of the storm. Lightning flashed again, so close Pietro could feel even the soaked hair on his arms and the back of his neck tingle. The immediate boom of the thunderclap nearly knocked both boys down again, so powerful they went once more to their knees.

"C'mon, let's go inside!" Pietro once again tried to grab Lance, and drag him out of his apparent insanity.

"No, Pietro! It doesn't get more real than this!" the dark boy grabbed both his teammate's arms in a fierce grip, pulling the silver teen towards him. "There nothing more real!" He shook Pietro, staring into his eyes, and the wild light dancing in them made the next flash of lightning pale in comparison. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Lance flung his head back once again in response to the fierce, dangerous beauty of the storm as it raged around them. He appeared untamed, even savage, as his grip tightened once more on Pietro arms as he stood them both up and shouted over the crashing thunder.

"C'mon, Pietro! Let it go! Just go with it!" He laughed, the strong planes of his face illuminated haphazardly as another strike cleaved the sky. "WOOOOOOOOOO!" Lance turned his face up once more to the raging storm his eyes closed, the inviting cords of his neck almost tempting Pietro to lean harder into his powerful grasp.

"I don't understand!" Pietro shouted back, overwhelmed by the feel of Lance's strong hands on him, gripping him ferociously. Lance's expression was so intense that the power of the storm dimmed in comparison to his unexpected wild exuberance and strength. "I don't understand, Lance!" he shouted again, trying to be heard over the thunder as it once again boomed so close it pounded through them like a giant's heartbeat.

"C'mon 'Tro, just yell, let it all out! There's nothing more powerful than THIS!" Lance yelled, leaning into his friend's face, pressing his forehead to the other teen's. "Right here! Right now! This is life, man, can't you feel it? IT'S AWESOME!" He flung his head back once more, basking in the raw energy of nature roaring around them, tearing up their civilized world even if just for one night.

Pietro eyes widened as he looked up at the dark boy gripping him almost painfully as he was baptized by lightning. The ENTIRE sky fractured into a dozen blinding shards behind him, illuminating what was truly real, what life was, what true earth-shattering power felt like.

Pietro's hands scrabbled up to clutch at Lance's long hair and he threw back his own head as he screamed at the sky, laughing wildly at the same time, " YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" It felt amazing, every worry and thought just thrown out into the storm to be blown away on the tempest, leaving him only a mass of sensation and raw, honest need.

The hands at his biceps vanished only to reappear, one at the back of his crooked neck and the other in his own muddy hair.

"'Tro," the dark teen muttered, his husky voice suddenly so close, ragged but immeasurably strong as forceful hands on Pietro's neck wound viciously, sensually in his hair pulled him in hard and sure. "God 'Tro."

"Woooooo," the silver boy sighed as he gripped Lance harder, the rain beating a sacred tattoo on his upturned face.

damn post size limit!

***
"We are the champions my friennnnnnnds! And we'll keep on fighting till the ennnnnnnd! We are the champions, we are the champions! No time for losers cuz we are the champions of the wooooorrrrlllldddd!" Pietro shrilled as he finished showering. Despite his sister's violent reappearance in his life, he had to admit she was a stellar addition to the Brotherhood crew. The way they took down those X-geeks tonight! Hot damn!

"We are the champions! We are the champions!" yodeled Fred from downstairs where he was setting up a celebratory game of Asshole, courtesy of some beer Quicksilver had boosted on the way home from the fight.

"Idiots," Wanda snarled as she slammed the door to Mystique's own old room behind her, locking other the boys out of her gloomy retreat.

"Aw, c'mon snookums, don't you wanna celebrate?" Toad pleaded at the door. Wanda managed to hex him through the keyhole, so the boy morosely hopped off with one leg noticeably shorter than the other.

Pietro slithered into a clean pair of jeans and white t-shirt and threw his dirty uniform over the stair railing, missing the hamper on the landing by a mile. Toweling his platinum hair, he continued to sing as he strutted down the hall. "No time for losers cuz we are the champions-hit it Lance!" he shouted pointing an imaginary microphone through his teammate's door at the dark haired earthshaker, who was perched on his windowsill.

A grunt was all the response he got. Refusing to have his karaoke spoiled, Peitro pranced into the room, twirling his towel over his head. "We are the champions! Weeeeeeee are the champions-take it away Avalanche!" He shoved the invisible mic right under his friend's nose.

"Hmmf…of the world," the brunette sighed with a half-hearted smirk when it was clear his teammate wouldn't stop before he sucked on his smoke again.

Pietro eyes widened, and he smiled slyly. "Ahhh, wanted celebrate solo, greedy greedy." Pale fingers flashed and he was sitting on the bed across the room, taking a deep toke of the good shit, before Lance ever realized his joint was missing.

"Hey! Give that back!" he snapped.

"No, I'm comfy, not getting up," Pietro teased as he flopped back on the bed, with his head hanging over the edge upside down. Since that night in the storm Pietro's previous indifference to his teammate had changed into something like a jittery little fizz of nervousness and attraction. At a loss as to how to handle it the speed demon fell back on his favorite coping mechanisms: sarcasm and being annoying. And some flirting; it came naturally and the bed was actually pretty comfy.

Lance grumbled and left the sill to plop down on the floor next to him. Leaning his back against the side of the bed the dark teen held his hand out impatiently for the jay.

Pietro smirked at him from his inverted position as he took a deep toke into his mouth then parted his lips slightly to let the smoke creep out as he inhaled through his nose.

"That's not how you smoke," Lance noted as he snatched the joint back and inhaled sharply then held his breath as he fought down the urge to cough.

"It's called a French inhale, and it's European. I'm very continental," the platinum haired speed demon said knowledgably before he took the spliff once more and dragged in a big, over-the-top manly inhale, dramatically puffing his cheeks out and rolling his eyes at Lance. When the other boy snorted disdainfully then gagged on his own smoke, coughing hard, Pietro made a mental tic mark in the victory column.

"Fuck, agh, that hurt," Lance choked, thumping his chest.

Pietro took another smooth toke and French inhaled again. "It's about style, not power, Rockstar," he said sagely, winking at him. He tilted his head to the side, eyeballing his friend on the diagonal, and said, "You try." The look on Lance's face clearly showed his skepticism. "C'mon, stupid," he huffed. "Just suck and hold it in your mouth like a cigar."

"You make everything sounds dirty," the dark teen chuckled before he took a moderate puff. Pietro's mastery of innuendo was practically a mutant gift in its own right, if he did say so himself.

"Ok, now just open your mouth a little and DON'T-" he waved his hand in front of his water eyes, "-exhale, moron. Now you're just wasting it. Give it here!" He tried to snatch the jay from his friend, but found his wrist caught in an arm lock that left him weedless.

"Lemme try again," Lance insisted, holding Pietro's trapped hand. "I don't know how to do this fancy shit, gimme a break." He loosed his grasp but didn't let go the pale hand as he inhaled once more and parted his lips.

The silver haired boy subtly trailed his fingertips over Lance's palm and inspected his effort. "Ok, just let the smoke trickle out, then slooowly inhale through your nose. You got it!" Pietro giggled at the unexpected sight of his muy macho buddy whiffing it just like a French art hound.

"Hmm, not bad, think you can taste it better like this," the other boy said, abstractedly as the potent bud worked its magic.

"Well, that's ok only if it's the good stuff. Do you really want to taste that Mexican skunk Toad got last time?" Pietro shuddered at the memory. "And hello, pass that shit!" He waved his now free hand in front of Lance's face, which was relaxing from its previous pensive expression.

"Oh, sorry," he said, grabbing Pietro's hand as it flashed in front of him to put the joint in it. The pale teen could've sworn he felt an echo of his previous caress against the inside of his wrist.

"Ta muchly," the pale boy said, as he pursed his lip for another draw. "So what are you doing up here? The party's downstairs, and it's time to celebrate. We totally kicked those X-nerds asses."

"So?" He dark teen shrugged leaned his head back against the bed, the side of his face an inch from Pietro' shoulder.

Pietro inspected his friend as sarcastically as he could from his upside-position, his sleek silver eyebrows rising to the floor. "So? SO? We never win! And we didn't just win, we pounded them!"

Lance huffed and shoved a hand roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Just as attitudinally challenged as its owner the hair promptly flopped back down into his eyes. Pietro resisted the urge to tuck one of those locks behind his friend's ear. His high and Lance's closeness had his imagination making unexpected little leaps.

"So? Then we fight them again, and we win or we lose. Then we fight them over and over and over." Lance brows drew down in a hawkish frown.

A white cloud of sweet fragrant smoke circled their heads and both were quiet for a moment until Lance shifted, casually leaning his head again Pietro's shoulder as he muttered, "Does it matter? Nothing changes."

Pietro slit his eyes against the smoke and peered closely into his friend's face, only inches from his, a little unsettled by the moody turn the conversation was taking. "What's eating you?" the pale boy queried. It wasn't like Lance to get all broody. Yes, he was MOODY, sulky, snarky, and grouchy, but brooding wasn't his thing.

The dark teen sighed and closed his eyes. "How is what we're doing making a damn bit of difference for mutants? Is trashing a mall improving anything for us?"

"Well, no but-" Pietro was on the verge of giving one of Magneto's platitudes about fighting for mutant superiority against Xavier's band of naive dreamers.

Lance cut him off, "I just don't know what the hell we're doing. Do you?"

Pietro inhaled contemplatively on the joint and let its heady effect slip over him further, before he boldly reached over and stuck the smoke between Lance's lips. "Magneto's got plans. One day we're not going to have to hide, we're going to be able to be out in the open and-"

"Sure," Lance drawled, rolling the smoke between his fingers and staring at the slowly burning cherry. "So what ARE the big plans? For us to have the same fucking boring, pointless lives as normal people? Or does he have some kind mutant paradise in his back pocket?"

Pietro shrugged, peering into his teammate's upside down face. "I don't know. He just says things will be better when the human accept mutants…well, accept we're better than them. He doesn't tell me any details. Hell, he barely even talks to me." Pietro pushed the bitterness away with a vague gesture that swept his fingers over the top of Lance's head; after a moment they unconsciously returned to play with the dark strands.

Lance settled his cheek more comfortably against Pietro's shoulder, closing his eyes. His breath tickled Pietro's neck as he spoke once more. "Some great future…we don't even know what it'll be."

Pietro's contemplated that nugget of truth and sighed, "I just have to believe that it's going to get better one day." He nudged his friend with his shoulder, making him look at him. The dull pain in that dark gaze felt like a heavy weight settling on his own chest. He wanted to take the hurt away, but was uncertain how, his mind befuddled by the intoxicating drug.

"Lance, can't we just savor the moment or the victory or whatever?" His hand absently stroked over dark hair, his friend's nearness almost as heady as the pungent purple kush.

"Yeh, I know," the brunette murmured, tired of thinking himself in circles. It wouldn't be decided tonight or probably anytime soon. Best to not think about it, think about something better. "Shotgun."

Pietro's face was starting to redden from being upside down for so long and his confused expression made the dark teen grin. "Huh?"

"Thought you were continental. Open your mouth, dumbass," Lance smirked then took a deep drag and leaned in.

Apparently Pietro wasn't the only master of innuendo around here. The speedster's eyes slid lazily to half-mast as he parted his lips. The pale teen almost forgot to inhale when Lance's tan cheek brushed his as the dark teen exhaled millimeters from his lips. He was definitely high as hell now and the cloying scent of quality weed had nothing on the tangy scent that seemed to be all Lance. Pietro closed his eyes to savor the sensation as he held his breath then let it out slowly. He could feel Lance's cheek brushing his still.

The dark teen was so close and Pietro's nervousness got the better of him. He shifted his head back a few inches, regretting the distance almost immediately. "Uh…so…what do you think we'll do when mutants don't have to hide?" Suddenly his head snapped up to an upright position. "Do we have to get jobs?" Pietro shuddered at that last word.

"Yeh right!" Lance said, laughing hard at the idea "I can see you now, 'Hey, I work at Wal-Mart and I can stock all the shelves in 30 seconds!' You'd be employee of the month in no time." He poked Pietro on the head in jest and for a moment the pale teen swore he felt fingers lace through his hair.

"You are definitely stoned if you think that's going to happen. Can you picture me in one of those smocks?" Pietro snickered. "You'll do something destructive and dirty, I'm sure, like mining or demolition." Pietro outright laughed at the image of Lance in a yellow construction helmet and orange safety vest.

"Heh, jobs, that's rich," Lance chuckled, shucking a rough hand through his unruly hair once more, calloused fingers briefly tangling with Pietro's own on his head, before his hand dropped to his side once again. "That's what normal people do when they grow up," he continued, brow once again furrowed as his mind strayed back to a troubling subject. "What are we supposed to do? Does Magneto expect to be soldiers forever or something? Do we have a choice?"

Pietro's eyes slid lazily over his friend's face, taking in the mussed brown hair and serious expression. "I changed my mind, you are not stoned enough if you are still thinking about this crap," he said huffily, plucking the joint from his friend's fingers. "Shotgun, bitch."

"You're the bitch."

"Hmm, sometimes. The rest of the time I'm an ass."

"That's true."

"Just open your mouth and take it, Alvers."

"You definitely make everything sounds dirty." Lance grinned, his eyes unfocused as he leaned closer. Misjudging the upside down angle, he ended up knocking Pietro in the nose with his chin.

"Ow, damnit. That's not how you do a shotgun." Pietro rubbed his face.

"Maybe I wasn't trying to, 'Tro," Lance muttered in an amused, low voice before he lowered his head and brushed his lips across his friend's. Once, twice, feather light but full of potential.

For a moment Pietro froze, his mind tumbling in whirlwind of random, nervous thoughts. What did this mean? Why it because Lance was high? Did his breath smell okay? How clean was this shirt? Damn, that's nice. Did Lance like him or was he just messing with him? What the hell is that on the floor? Was his bodywash too flowery? God, he's got nice lips. What the hell am I doing? Was there something besides pot in that joint? Mmm, he smells so good. What the hell is he doing?

Just as quickly as Pietro's mind spun away from his control it quickly resolved itself into just one thought, "Don't sit there, stupid, get it!"

The pale hand that had been toying with Lance's hair turned into a fierce grasp as he pulled the other boy's face to his, hard. The angle was awkward, upside down as it was, but Pietro didn't care, especially when he felt the miraculous and sinful slide of his friend's tongue tease his lips.

Lance thrust his hand deeply into Pietro's silver hair and did amazing things that made little jolts of pleasure dart through the pale boy as he deepened the kiss. When Pietro sighed at the tantalizing feel of fingers against the nape of his neck, Lance took advantage and slid his tongue in to stroke and caress Pietro's with growing heat.

All thoughts of hesitation or doubt evaporated at the sizzling feel of Lance's tongue teasing his and the wildfire that suddenly burst to life in Pietro's veins. He moaned without restraint and grabbed the back of Lance's head, desperate for as much contact as possible. With a need apparently as great as the pale teen's Lance scrambled onto the bed and pressed his body sensually against his friend's. Dark hands brutally twinned in silver hair as he bent back the pale face to attack the hummingbird fast pulse hammering in the slender throat.

"Ah…AH!" Pietro cried at the pleasurable thrill of rough hands and tongue. Spurred on by Lance's almost violent passion and his own long denied need, he fisted both hands in the boy's black shirt and wrenched him up to seal his mouth over Lance's and plunge his tongue in roughly. The need to feel, taste, experience everything about the dark teen overwhelmed him as they battled for dominance.

"C'mon you guys, it's time for Asshole!" Fred shouted, startling both boys so suddenly Pietro bit Lance's lip and tasted blood.

The thunderous look on the earthshaker's face rivaled Pietro's spike of anger, but before the silver teen could shout a scathing retort that would surely blister Fred's ears Lance shoved free and stalked to his still open door.

"FUCK OFF!" he shouted with venom that even made Pietro's blood run cold. At least until Lance slammed his door shut with a vicious bang and threw the lock with a decisive click that made something start at the base of Pietro's spine. The dark teen stormed over to his stereo and with one hand slapped the CD player on and cranked the volume up as he tore his black his t-shirt off with the other.

Pietro didn't waste time as, with a smirk of pleasure, he ripped his own shirt off and threw it to the floor. Before it even hit the grungy carpet Lance crawled up the bed on his hands and knees, stalking the silver haired teen with a predatory look. He crouched over Pietro, dark heat boiling like back coffee in his eyes, and grinned the way a shark does before it take a pound of flesh.

"You bit me."

"I'll do it again if you come here," Pietro promised, reaching greedily for that tanned muscular chest as he slid down to lick and tongue a dark nipple. God, the taste of him was so undeniably masculine. Cigarettes and sweat and something all Lance, rough and addictive. So unlike the other boys Pietro had been with who were so delicate and effeminate that he had to force himself to be gentler than his nature preferred. The brunette was intensely desirable in his very opposition to what Pietro had always found attractive, so utterly male and powerful.

Lance hummed in pleasure at the feel of Pietro's dancing tongue then swore when teeth sunk in once more. "FUCK! Mmmm yes." One hand cupped the back of the silver head as the other slithered down to grab Pietro's ass firmly and shove their hips together.

Pietro moaned at the crushing feel of the hard cut planes of muscle and tendon that bore down on him firmly without compunction. The press of the strong body above his assured him they could give and take each other's powerful touches and fierce grasps in equal measure, and it was thrilling. He bit harder and was rewarded with another sensual, almost painful, grind of Lance's hips against his.

"God, 'Tro…mmm shit…like that," Lance groaned as Pietro licked and bit his way across his chest to attack the other nipple, worrying it to a hard tip. Encouraged by Lance's curses and gasps, the silver teen sucked hard and flicked rapidly with his tongue throwing some speed into the mix.

Hot breath in his hair, then his ear, sent spikes of heat down his spine to pool in his groin. "Talented tongue, 'Tro," Lance panted, raising the hair on the back of Pietro's neck, before he slid his own tongue in to tease the pale ear then suck on the pulse point just behind it, sending the pale teen's heart rate into overdrive. "Do it again," Lance demanded.

The heated imperative in that voice made Pietro shudder, and he practically squirmed with pleasure as Lance continued pouring dirty, bossy things in his ear like spoiled honey, encouraging his oral explorations. Not needing to be told twice, Pietro latched onto the delectable crook of Lance's throat where it met his shoulder and sucked hard. The earthshaker gasped and roughly grabbed one of Pietro's slim legs and wrapped around powerful dark hips, working powerfully against the other teen's slim strong frame with passionate and brutal thrusts.

One particularly precise and hard stroke made Pietro throw his head back and groan as Lance's strong thigh ground firmly against his denim trapped erection.

"Like that, 'Tro? Want more?" Lance panted before he kissed Pietro again roughly, tongue plunging in time with his hips as he wrenched another harsh, needy noise from the young man in his grip. "'Tro….uhh…god! Tell me and I'll give to you," he rasped, breaking away for a moment to level his penetrating dark gaze at the silver teen.

"More…ahhh shit…moremoremoremore," Pietro chanted breathlessly as he forced Lance's lips back to his for a moment before the brunette plled away once more with a lingering lick that trace the dip in Pietro's upper lip.

"Specifics...want to hear you say it," Lance whispered insistently as his tongue drew fiery paths down Pietro cheek to his neck then back to his ear, where it dipped in once more. "Use that talented tongue, 'Tro, and fucking tell me what you want!" he demanded, gripping the silver teen's hips hard and grinding down once more.

"AH! AAH! Shit, grab my cock!" Pietro almost shouted. He couldn't take anymore of this shit, this torture, this sadistic teasing. He needed something hard and hot and sweaty and fuck he needed it now.

Lance thrust his tongue into the pale teen's ear once more before he jerked up with an evil grin, ripped apart Pietro's button fly and yanked his jeans down and off without any preliminaries. Before Pietro could even catch his breath to compliment his speed all thought of coherent speech fled at Lance's firm, searing grip on his shaft. Pietro almost bucked off the bed, but Lance pinned down him with a powerful forearm across his waist as he leaned down to lick and bite at acres of bared abdomen and enticing pale flesh as his other hand expertly stroked the speed demon to a near frenzy.

A wave of molten pleasure pulsed through Pietro in time with each sweep of calloused hands and nipping teeth. His heart pounded so hard it drowned out their ragged breaths and moans, even the music pouring from the speakers. Pale hands slid down to stroke the dark hair teasing his torso, marveling at the contrast of the smooth strands to the stubbled jaw sensually scraping the sensitive hollow of his hip.

He wanted this to go on forever, nothing felt this amazing, nothing even came close to the blistering, incredible lightning that sparked his every nerve ending each time Lance stroked down to his base then up to circle the head with his thumb. He closed his eyes against the sight of the dark head sliding across his skin and Lance's tongue circling his nipple to tease it to hardness. Pietro was unable to focus on anything but the indescribable waves of jolting heat that leapt from each caressed inch of needy skin to the next.

"Hnnn…ahhhh…so good…Lance…Lance," he sighed, his hips twisting uselessly in the other mutant's intoxicating and strong grasp. Pale finger twisted in dark hair, pulling hard to yank the Lance up into another rich kiss. The brunette hummed into his mouth, the vibration an unexpected added pleasure.

The smooth glide of their now sweating bodies, the feel of slick hard muscle under their hards rendered both boys almost drunk with need. Ragged, whispered encouragements of "yes" and "more" battled with wanton groans and grunts as they dragged each other to new heights of sensation and want with each bite, lick, caress, and stroke.

Pietro wanted to hear more, needed to know Lance was affected as he was. He got his answer when he thrust his hand down the back of the brunette's jeans and dug his nails into one wonderfully hard cheek. Lance flung his head back in ecstasy at the mixed pleasure pain as he stroked Pietro faster and shouted, "'TRO!"

Pietro shoved his thigh into the earthshaker's groin, vibrating it suddenly with his mutation, desperate to wring more hot sounds from the powerful mutant pressed against him.

"Mmmmm…MMMMM FUCK…again 'Tro…gah agai-" Lance hissed, his back arching into the sensation, pushing his hips forward again once more even as he never let up his tormenting grip on Pietro's shaft.

Quick as his mutant name Pietro drew down the other teen's zipper and reached in to grab what he'd been thinking about endlessly since the prank in the shower. God, it was even better than he remembered, hard, thick and so hot Pietro couldn't resist saying so.

He leaned up to hook his teeth into Lance's earlobe, drawing the boy down closer to him and hissed, "This is what I wanted….god, touching you…shit…you making those sexy noises…so hot, so hard, gotta have it gotta-AH! Harder!" He gasped when Lance suddenly licked his rough palm then slicked it once more over Pietro's aching cock. The speed demon bit the bare shoulder in front of him and moaned as he licked the broken skin then allowed his tongue to slip once more into Lance's mouth.

Between ragged breaths and frantic slides of muscle and flesh Lance panted, "'Tro…hmmm...you gotta…mmmm…feels so fucking good…make you come-SHIT!" Lance shouted as the silver teen shoved him hard onto this back and, with the same motion, shoved his torn jeans down to his knees before straddling him.

"You first, Alvers," Pietro smirked as he twisted one nipple, hard enough to make the other boy gasp, and then slid his fingers into Lance's mouth. Pietro's hips rocked as Lance sucked hard, his tongue sliding up and down, teasing the sensitive pads with incredibly erotic promise as dark eyes melted into ice blue. The temperature in the room seemed to raise each second Pietro undulated against his teammate, unconsciously wanting a different kind of penetration. He withdrew his fingers, slicking them down Lance's dark jaw and across one nipple to toy with it momentarily. He relished each thrash and hissed swear from Lance because of his touch before his hand darted down and immediately set an insanely fast pace on Lance's cock.

Fingers moving faster than Lance could almost see, pale fingers feathered, teased, stroked, tugged, rubbed, and tantalized every ridge and vein before sliding over the head then down again to repeat the same torturous path.

"'TRO! AAAH!" Lance's back bowed under the pressure rising in him from the silver teen's fantastic touches. One rough hand shot out to grip a pale bicep in a crushing grasp as the other came down to grip Pietro's smooth shaft as it slid against him. Rather then trying to match his lover's speed Lance's grip was sure, measured, and undeniably strong. His long powerful strokes stoked Pietro's lust higher as the pure strength and sure masculinity of Lance's touch drove him crazy. It was nothing like the fluttering butterfly strokes of his previous lovers and it was mind-blowing and knee shaking and made Pietro want to scream. Lance's steady, intoxicating pull drew him upward in steady pulses towards climax.

Pietro's back stiffened suddenly as his orgasm broke over him in pounding waves that robbed him of all words but "Yes yes yesyesyesyesyesyessss." Lance sat up, never breaking his rhythm to grab Pietro's hair and force him into a messy kiss, no finesses only fire and lust and heady need. He shouted into Pietro's mouth as he bucked against the silver teen's torturous touches as he own orgasm hit him so hard it was like a two by four to the back of the head. The hand on Pietro's bicep snaked down around the speedster's waist and clenched him desperately as Lance came in 3 hard spurts, panting as he swallowed Pietro's own harsh cries.

Pietro surged into Lance's fierce hold, his own arm wrapped around the dark teen's neck and he rocked and shivered and moaned as he shot onto the earthshaker's luscious abs. The crushing embrace, their combined sweat and scent of heavy arousal, the sizzling feel of slick, sticky flesh made Pietro writhe in abandon, his hips snaking back and forth as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

After their breathing slowed and hearts returned to normal pace, Pietro started to get up, but a rough hand clamped on his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"To clean up."

"You're coming back." It wasn't a question, more like a firmly stated fact.

Pietro's first reaction to make a snarky retort melted under the intense, smoldering look Lance leveled at him. "Yeh, of course," he said softly as he reached over to run his finger through those dark strands once more before he tugged on his jeans.

Once in the bathroom Pietro considered taking a shower but decided against it. Lance's delicious scent hung heavy on his skin and he wasn't in any hurry to rid himself of it. He settled for splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth before he wet a washcloth and wiped off the dried evidence of their play from his stomach and thighs.

When he returned to Lance's bedroom with another damp cloth Pietro was amused to find the dark teen hanging his head backwards over the bed, artfully French inhaling another joint.

"Now you're continental, practically French," he joked as he sat next to him and smoothed the cool damp cloth over those delectable abs he figured could easily spend hours tracing with his fingers and tongue.

Lance raised his head as he passed him the joint and grinned. "I know continental is just your word for gay, 'Tro."

The pale teen shivered pleasurably at the nickname. Lance only called him that at certain times, and it made something flutter in his stomach. "You caught me. Should I give you the honorary toaster we give all new members before I teach you the rest of gay code?"

"I'm not gay," Lance stated flatly.

Pale fingers froze, the joint suspended halfway to his lips. He froze as though a new ice age had blown through the room.

Lance let him squirm on the hook for a moment before he laughed, "God the look on your face, 'Tro!"

"You're an asshole," the speed demon snarked bitchily as he drew raggedly on the spliff.

Lance sat up and put his arms around the silver teen, "I don't want any other guys, stupid." One calloused hand traced through platinum hair before fingers teased the back of Pietro's neck, followed by lips that peppered his skin with warm presses before Lance murmured in his ear. "Just you, 'Tro. Just you."

Pietro barely resisted the urge to sigh in relief. "Uh-huh," he blew a cloud of sweet smoke into Lance's face and smirked. "Prove it, Rockstar." Even with his speed he couldn't avoid the sudden tackle that pinned him, laughing, to the bed.

MOAR i demand it
too epic for speedster fic to be slow! T-T

GUH. I am busy for a few days and I come back to find THE MOST CANON fic for this pairing I have ever witnessed.OH my goodness.GambitGirl you are my hero. I feel sorry for Todd having to bathe so often because of his froggy skin. i assume the poor boy would get sick or something from the soap being absorbed into his skin and stuff? I dunno. Next time I think Pietro ought to use organic soaps. Also Im in love with how fruity you make Pietro, while he still retains his masculine traits, such as epic burps.

"W T Fuck are you doing?" Pietro doubled over with laughter, clutching his sides.

"Shut up and help me!" Lance yelled, struggling vainly to pull his hands from his head.

Pietro wrinkled his nose at his friend and, more exactly, his grimy, slimy state. "Hmm." He stood a few feet away at a safe distance, surveying the scene. "What'll you give me for it?"

"A black eye if you don't get over here," Avalanche offered in irritation as he tugged once again and winced at the pain.

"Domestic violence is generally frowned upon, and wouldn't you need a free hand to do that?" Pietro snickered.

"C'mon, just help me!" the brunette begged, brown eyes pleading and Pietro knew his resistance was done for. Stifling a sigh, but not a humongous roll of his eyes, he stepped in and cautiously touched one slender finger to the mess that was his friend's head.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked in part wonder and part exasperation.

"I was changing the oil in the jeep."

Pietro scoffed, "That doesn't explain why your hands are stuck to your head with…what the hell is this?" He sniffed the orange goo plastered to the back of Lance's head and almost recoiled at the harsh, chemical smell.

"My hair fell in the drip pain. Five thousand miles of used oil. Tried to get it out," Lance growled as Pietro tugged experimentally, pulling a few of his friend's fingers free and a tuft of hair with it.

"With what? Super glue?" Just when he thought he'd seen everything.

Lance turned and, with the elbow of his left arm that was tangled in his long hair, pointed it in the direction of a jar sitting on the workbench.

Pietro examined it and hissed, "Automotive degreaser? Are you brain damaged?" He looked at the mess on Lance's head. "Never mind. Exhibit A."

"Just help me, damnit!" Lance shouted.

"I will, but my god Lance, don't you know even the basics of hair care?" Pietro snarled as he untangled another two of his friend's fingers, finally releasing one of his hands from the unholy mess.

Lance's now free hand closed around Pietro's arm in a vice grip. "You can lecture me later, get me loose or I swear-," he with in a dangerous tone.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I won't leave you stuck like this," Pietro soothed. "Just unclench your fist, stupid. Now move your thumb…ok just a few more, there we go," he announced victoriously. A moment later, "Um…whoops?"

"You did NOT just say whoops. What whoops?" Lance brought his newly freed hand to his face and yelped at the huge clump of hair stuck to his fingers. "OH SHIT!"

"Well, you've needed a trim for a while," Pietro teased. Wrong thing to do, as his shirt was suddenly fisted in two nasty, hairy, goo covered fists.

"This…is…not…funny," Lance ground out between clenched teeth.

At the murderous look on his friend's face, Pietro swallowed the urge for further jokes. "Ok, ok, look, we can fix this!" He patted Lance's grody, furry fists in a placating gesture, and successfully stifled the urge to wince at the nastiness in such close proximity to his face.

"How do you plan to do that?" Lance growled.

"Well, we'll just wash it, properly this time, see what the damage is, then snip snip, and you'll be good as new!" Pietro babbled at speed, the furious look on Lance's face making him jittery.

"SNIP SNIP? YOU WANT TO CUT OFF MY HAIR?" the earth-shaker roared.

Pietro own temper flared, "Hey, I didn't do this to you, dumbass, so quit screaming at me!" He twisted angrily in his friend's vice-like grip on his shirt. "It's either I cut it and fix this clusterfuck or-" He reached up to take a lock of mangled hair and easily broke it off with a twist of his finger.

Lance's eyes widened comically at the sight of another piece of his precious mane parting company with his head. "Oh god," he moaned in horror.

"There, there, you big baby," Pietro tutted with only a trace of sarcasm as he pulled Lance's fists free of his now disgusting shirt. "C'mon, we'll get this sorted out." He lead the now almost catatonic with shock mutant out of the garage and plopped him on the stoop of the back porch. He was back in a flash with a kitchen chair and an armload of supplies.

"Sit." He ordered, pushing Lance into the chair he placed on the grass. "Head back." He tipped his friend's head back so his neck hung over the back of the chair. "Close your eyes." Lance's eyes slid shut obediently, but at the worry lines creasing his tan face Pietro patted his cheek. "Breathe, Lance, I'm just to going wash this shit out right now." Lance nodded, the tension in his face not leaving until he gasped in surprise.

"Fuck, that's cold!" he howled as Pietro turned the water hose on over his scalp.

"Well, you can't use the shower. All the hair falling out would clog the drain and then we'd be screwed," Pietro stated.

"Falling out!" Lance bolted upright, cold water splashing down his back.

"Oh my freaking god, you are worse than any girl," Pietro huffed as he clamped a hard hand on his friend's forehead and forcefully bent his neck back over the chair. "It's not falling out at the scalp, just the ends, so calm down!" he barked.

Lance slumped in defeat in the chair, eyes clenched shut in barely coiled panic. Pietro softened a bit at his distress. "Hey, Rockstar," he soothed, "I wouldn't let my boyfriend go around with a bad haircut, now would I?"

Lance opened one eye and, miraculously, gave a half-smirk. "Boyfriend, huh?" he questioned sarcastically.

Unfazed, Pietro shrugged as he ran the cold water under the back of Lance's neck, gently massaging the abused strands. "Would you prefer loverrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?" he purred. Lance snorted his opinion at that one. "Of course, I could introduce you as That Guy Who Sneaks In My Room At Night And Makes Me Suck His-"

"Boyfriend is fine," Lance interrupted, practically choking. "And who would you introduce to me to anyways?" He shot a curious look up at Pietro as the other boy leaned over him, working shampoo into his hair.

"My father," the speed demon said nonchalantly. Lance really did choke that time and got a splash from the hose in his face in response. "I'm kidding, asshole." Pietro grinned as Lance dashed the water from his eyes.

"Having him kill me would be an efficient way to break up," Lance retorted as he leaned his head back once more into Pietro's ministering hands as he rubbed the suds in nice little circles.

Pietro continued massaging his head, talented fingers swirling along Lance's temples. Despite the mess, the speedster enjoyed tracing down Lance's hairline behind his ears to do something pretty fun things to the back of his neck and the base of the skull. As he worked Pietro educated Lance of the various points his hair resuscitation. Two scrubs with clarifying shampoo to strip out the oil and gunk, followed by a moisturizing shampoo to restore chemical balance, then a deep conditioning treatment for 10 minutes to hopefully seal the shaft of whatever hair wasn't damaged beyond repair.

Pietro informed a relieved Lance that only the last 4-5 inches of his hair had fallen in the oil and taken the brunt of the damage from the degreaser, i.e. he wouldn't need a crew cut.

As he finger combed the conditioner through the brunette's hair over and over again, rubbing it into the shattered ends, Pietro hummed "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon. Lance shifted lower in the chair as he relaxed into his newly christened boyfriend's touch, the sensual slide of fingers over his scalp, lightly scratching as the silver speedster worked the conditioner in deeply. The pads of the silver haired teen's fingers worked at the base of his skull, up and down and back again, tugging gently on his hair as he hummed some distantly familiar song.

"Hmmm, feels good, 'Tro," Lance sighed with pleasure, shifting slightly as goose bumps ran down his arms.

Pietro raised an eyebrow at that interesting murmur and considered giving him a quick mouthful of tongue but found an unannounced cold dash of water over Lance's head much more satisfying.

"You are such a dick!" Lance yelped as cold water streamed down his back when he sat up in shock for the second time.

"Yup," Pietro agreed absently. He grinned to himself as Lance fell for his trap and stripped off his now soaked shirt with an annoyed grunt, giving the speed demon a dirty look before he closed his eyes and leaned back once more to let him finish. Pietro took more time that strictly necessary rinsing the conditioner out in order to feast his eyes on Lance's body. His eyes traced hungrily over the tan chest and abs he'd spent the better part of the other night outlining with his tongue.

Down boy. Pietro glared at his crotch as it stirred. There was work to do and Lance's hair and self-esteem to save. Christ, the earthshaker acted like he was Samson and losing a few inches of hair would take away his mutant powers. Pfft.

Pietro was determined to send that damned mullet back to the '80s where it belonged but still keep enough length that he could tug on hard they way he did the other day. When he did Lance had made this freaking sweet noise and…c'mon, down boy!

Pietro shifted to relieve the pressure on his zipper as he stood behind his teammate and toweled his hair dry. He did not need a boner distracting him from the critical business of hairstyling. He draped the damp towel around Lance's shoulders, grabbed a comb and ran it through the dark strands until he was satisfied it was untangled enough for the real work to begin.

As he lifted the scissors, Pietro brought them around so Lance could see them. "Take a deep breath, this won't hurt a bit," he teased. "And one joke about gay hairdressers and WILL stab you in the eye."

The audible click on Lance closing his mouth made Pietro smirk. Right before he made the first cut, Lance shifted then coughed, then shifted to the other side. "What?" Peitro barked.

"Uh, you sure you know what're doing, Pietro?" Lance tilted his head back until he was looking at his teammate upside down.

Continued
***
The silver haired teen sighed and clenched the bridge of his nose with his fingers in the universal Lord-give-me-strength gesture. "Lance, I do my own hair. I wouldn't trust these fabulous lock to some hack." He patted back one sleek silver wing and grinned at the dubious look the other mutant gave him. "Don't worry, this look is a Maximoff one of a kind. You couldn't handle it, no style. Something that will soon be remedied!" He patted his teammate on the top of the head a little too hard then positioned it forward again.

"Ok, just don't take off more than is absolutely necessary."

"I know, Lance."

"I don't want it too short."

"I KNOW, Lance."

"Nothing emo either."

"Remember what I said about eye stabbing?" That made him shut up.

Pietro ran his fingers through the dark hair down andm holding up a lock perpendicular to his scalp, he cut off several damaged inches with a flourish then dropped them in Lance lap. The whimpering almost made him laugh.

"Trust me, you'll be fabulous," Pietro announced, which made other teen half-rise from his chair. The speedster clamped a hard hand on his shoulder and bodily forced him back down. "In an incredibly masculine and not gay at all way," he snarled. "Sit!" He rapped the other mutant sharply on the head with his knuckles. "First cut's the hardest."

With a noticeable lack of speed, Pietro carefully combed, snipped, smoothed, and cut again, deftly removing the destroyed remains of the horrible mullet.

"Never heard you be so quiet," Lance said with an amused tone in his voice.

"You should know that hair serious business…or was that someone else crying over split ends in the garage?" Pietro quipped, snipping carefully but steadily as he pulled each lock up then smoothed it back down to check how it looked.

"I was NOT crying," the dark mutant grumbled.

"Of course not," Pietro said sleekly, "It was just one of your normal everyday hissy fits."

"I don't have hissy fits either." Lance arms crossed defensively over his chest.

"Hmm, if you say so," Pietro noted airily. "Soooo, what's new?"

"What's new? We live in the same house, stupid, if there was anything new you'd know," Lance rumbled, confused at the abrupt change of topic.

"It's called small talk, Rockhead. It's what you do when you get a haircut. Jeez, you'd think you'd never had one before." Pietro huffed as he pulled a large lock of hair up on top of Lance's head and secured it with a clip so he could layer the underneath.

"I dunno, I usually just grab the kitchen shears and-"

"Kitchen shears?" Pietro gasped in horror. "You such a caveman. You probably make fire by rubbing two sticks together, too."

"Me man, cook meat on fire!" Lance grunted loudly and thumped his chest.

"Very cute," the silver teen huffed sarcastically. "Sooooo what's new?" he tried again.

The other mutant shrugged, "I dunno, got detention for sleeping in class again, skipped that and got double detention."

"Well, that sure taught them, didn't it?" Pietro sniggered as he worked his way around the other side, pinning up more hair. He was sorely tempted to whip out his camera phone and steal a photo but knew Lance's freakout would ruin any potential pleasure at immortalizing his ridiculous appearance.

"No juicy gossip?" Pietro teased. "You seeing anyone special?"

"No one special," Lance said with a hint of humor. Scissors made an appearance bit too close to his left eyeball. "Uh, yeh, well there is someone."

He left Lance's hair still a little long in the back so it brushed his shoulders. Pietro ran his fingers up from the base of his neck to the top of his head to fashionably muss it then brushed his knuckles across his friend's neck to shoo away loose cutting that stuck to his skin.

"Oh, do tell! Is he hot?" Pietro grinned as he combed and cut and parted.

"Um, he's pretty cool, I guess…but kinda mouthy." A sharp rap of knuckles on his head once more and he added, "Ow, ok, jeez! He's got a nice ass."

Moving as he worked, Pietro bent his knees at his friend's side and leaned in to carefully works the sharp blades near his ear, then flicked some loose strands from his skin.

"Nice asses are nice," the speed demon noted blandly, although inwardly he preened at the compliment. Of course, his ass was nice; all that running was great for the glutes.

Two stubborn hairs stuck to Lance's tanned skin just wouldn't get lost so Pietro blew them off with a quick puff of air, smirking at the goosebumps his gesture raised.

"What else?" he fished; he loved compliments.

Pietro continued to lift and comb and carefully snip at thin Lance's wonderfully thick hair so it fell in a nice "hey I didn't do anything to it" way that was the key to awesome hair. He leaned down closer to his friend's face, holding a couple of strands on each side of his cheeks to make sure they were even.

Lance leaned in suddenly and kissed him. In surprise, Pietro almost did stab him in the eye with the scissors but forgot it a moment later when Lance's tongue stroked his in that delicious way that made him a little weak in the knees. Just as Pietro was getting into it, the other teen pulled back and smirked. "He's a pretty good kisser. Kinda slutty too."

"Fucking flirt," Pietro snickered as stepped back and eyes his teammate critically, before leaning over once more to give a final last tweak with a wee bit of styling product to the ends. "Viola! You're done," he pronounced as he whipped the towel from Lance's shoulders.

"How's it look?" His teammate's formerly relaxed stance immediately disappeared as he ran one hand gingerly over his head. He stifled a grimace as he felt how much shorter it was in the back.

Pietro walked around him in a circle, hand on his chin as he squinted, hmmmmed, walked back the other way, squinted some more. When it looked like Lance was going to yell at him he finally said, with no small amount of pride, "Very Sawyer."

"Who the hell is that?"

"The hood from Lost."

"Let me see," Lance said, anxiety coloring his voice, as he jumped up and practically ran up the stairs to Pietro's room to look at himself in the only mirror in the house not broken. Pietro took his time putting away his accoutrements and sweeping nasty clumps of ruined hair under the porch.

While he was confident in his fashion sense and hair styling abilities, Pietro wasn't as sure of Lance's reaction. The guy's mullet was like his teddy bear or some kind of stupid security blanket. Losing it might result in Lance throwing one of his epic tantrums and rocking the house off its foundation.

And people called Pietro a drama queen.

No angry shouts or the sound of things breaking was heard, so Pietro's gave in to his curiosity and tip-toed upstairs. He held his breath as he gingerly peered around the door and into his room, only to choke when he saw Lance posing in front of the mirror. When the other teen turned around to throw a wink over his shoulder at his own reflection Pietro laughed out loud.

"I take it you like it?" the pale speedster asked with satisfaction as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, admiring his work. Hot damn. He'd thought Lance was hella fine before, but the shorter 'do really stepped up his game, and he was a SERIOUS hottie now. Pietro decided that anyone who tried to touch him would pull back only a bloody stump.

"Fucking-A dude, I look like awesome, like I should be in a band or something," Lance grinned the struck another unashamed pose in front of the mirror, flexing his bicep, as he peered through the fringe that fell artfully over one eye.

In a flash, Pietro was behind him, running fingers over said bicep, with a mischievous look in his eye. "Soooo…how're you gonna tip your stylist?" He punctuated his query with a slow lick up the side of Lance's neck, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

The dark teen's response was spectacular. He spun around, grabbed Pietro hard by the hips, and yanked him flush against his own hard body. Heat flared in dark eyes as his happy grin morphed into a dark smirk. Pietro's breath caught at that look as the earthshaker pushed him backwards across the room to shove him roughly up against the wall before slamming their lips together hard enough to make teeth click.

Pietro fisted hard hands into Lance's hair and pulled ferociously to yank the other teen's head back to expose his neck to attack. His efforts were rewarded with roughened hands scratching at his back through his messy shirt. His previously slow lick up Lance's neck was only a precursor to the trails of pleasurably painful bites and sucks he darted across dark skin that made the bigger boy groan throatily. The speed demon only paused to allow his teammate to yank his shirt over his head before he latched himself once again to tan flesh he couldn't seem to get enough of.

"Fuck, 'Tro," Lance muttered as one of his hands slid to Pietro's jeans to rip open the fly as the other clutched against his back, leaving bruises and marks that would need soothing later. Lance pushed hungrily against the speedster's frantic lips and pinned him against the wall with ever greater force, and he bit down on Pietro's lush lower lip.

Pietro tried to push back, to give himself room to maneuver Lance across the room and to the bed that beckoned like a siren's song, but found himself unable to fight the strong, searing pressure holding him in place.

"Lance," he panted, "let me…ugh…move."

Continued...last part for now...this story is unfinished, need 1-2 more chapters but i'm working on a Booster Gold/Blue Beetle fic on another board that has taken up my attention for now.
***

"Not a chance, 'Tro," Lance drawled against his ear before sneaking his tongue in to tease the sensitive hollow in a way that almost made the silver haired boy give up his efforts to move. "Or don't you want your tip?" he said salaciously before giving his own hard bite the pale column of neck before him.

"Shit, love it when you talk dirty," Pietro gasped at the prickling feel of teeth against his flesh. "But you're all talk," he hissed in challenge. He knew that would move things along; Lance just couldn't resist a dare, especially in situations like this.

His jibe was met with a dark laugh that travelled lower until one pale pink nipple was captured between strong white teeth and tortured. "Oh god," he moaned at the sensation, and one of the hands that had been fisted in Lance's hair turned gentle and slid down to the back of his neck to pull the other teen ever closer, urging the tongue and touch that was slowly frying his synapses.

"Like, I said," Lance taunted as he slid experienced lips across Pietro's chest to worry his other nipple with a wide lick of his flat tongue, the heated texture of it wringing another curse from the speed demon, "kinda slutty."

Pietro started a smart remark that caught in his throat when Lance's other hand gripped his cock almost painfully through his quickly tightening jeans. "Oooo-kaayy," he moaned instead, more than ready to agree with anything as long as Lance made him squirm.

He needed more, more of these incredible sparks that danced along his nerves every spot that the earthshaker stroked and touched with nimble pets and strokes. That amazing tongue outlined his navel with wet swipes that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the same time calloused fingertips rippled along his ribs to sneak down the back of his jeans.

He couldn't take it anymore and pushed hard on dark shoulders. "Down, for Christ's sake!" he grunted, "You're killing me with this teasing shit."

The tanned teen raised his head to flash white teeth at the flustered boy pinned between him and the wall. "Always in a hurry, 'Tro," he said with an amused shake of his head. "You gotta learn to slow down," he whispered, dipping his head back down to dart his tongue into the indention of Pietro's hip, making the other boy buck hard against the strong hands pinning him in pace.

When his jeans came undone and puddle at his feet Pietro had no idea, and frankly didn't give a crap as long as Lance kept up his mind-blowing and sensual torture. Pietro was just on the verge of grabbing Lance by the head and forcing himself between his lips when he was unexpectedly spun around and pressed against the wall chest first.

"Wha-" he gasped from where his cheek was smashed against gritty dry wall.

"Just shut up and enjoy the ride," Lance muttered in his hair as he caressed Pietro's back in a long, lingering caress that made the other teen rise up on his toes unconsciously. Strong hands covered his, pressing them ever more firmly into the wall, a clear command to keep them there. Pietro shuddered with anticipation and nodded his agreement. God, when Lance got all bossy the best shit happened. An approving dark murmur slid down the back of his neck with Lance's strong lips.

Several fingers made an achingly long, teasing slide down to trace one firm cheek, then the other, pausing to dip in between in a way that made the silver teen shudder and hiss with rapture. Lance glided achingly across Pietro's back, marking his path with open mouthed presses that made the silver teen's skin prickle as each heated breath ghosted over it. He bucked when a lazy swipe of tongue mapped the small of his back at the same time Lance's other hand unexpectedly reached around to grab his aching shaft.

"Nnnhhhh!" Pietro grated through clenched teeth. The combined feel of Lance's tongue and fingers exploring him from behind and that wonderfully sure hand stroking him in front reduced the usually quick tongued mutant to half-formed groans and incoherent noises that might have been encouragement. Or slowly manifesting brain damage as his brain liquefied at the conflicting thrills battering his senses.

Brain damage definitely became the front-runner when one Lance's fingers pressed against a spot that had not yet been tested by the two teens. Pietro stiffened in surprise for a second, then relaxed and canted his hips back as he smirked into the drywall under his cheek. "About damn time," he sighed.

"Gonna shut that smart mouth, 'Tro," Lance threatened, even as a flash of white teeth showed he was smiling. True to his word, he pressed again at the same moment his tongue made an unexpected slide dooooown.

"Nnngh!"

"That's what I thought," Lance said smugly before he returned his attention to shattering Pietro's self-control with sensory overload from fore and aft. His tongue and fingers traced previously forbidden unexplored flesh as his other hand stroked and squeezed in that measured, steady pulse he knew drove the silver speedster bonkers.

Riding battering waves of pleasure from in front and behind, Pietro grunted and pushed into Lance's excruciating grip, withering under the delicious slide of calloused fingertips against pulsing veins that ridged the underside of his cock. He pulled back, drawing the dark teen's touch to the sensitive tip, then moaned in bliss as one thick finger pressed into him.

"Shit, ah ah ah!" he moaned in counterpoint to each movement.

"Good, yeh?" Lance murmured as he licked and soothed the frantically squirming mutant with soft kisses to one firm, pale cheek.

"F-f-f-fuck!" Pietro stuttered as he was assaulted from every angle. Oh god, this was it, Lance was going to kill him with pleasure, melt his freaking brain, and he didn't want it to stop ever ever ever. He bucked back again into the hand that was killing him with mouth-watering thrusts. "Mmmmmm! MMMMM!"

Lance bit down hard on one irresistible muscular buttock and pushed again, earning him a delicious shudder from the silver teen arched in front of him. He grinned and moved his other hand up and down, rubbing his thumb again and again under the leaking head of Pietro's cock, teasing the incredibly sensitive dip in bottom of it. When Pietro lunged into his touch once again Lance followed that ass he couldn't get enough off and pressed inside again, twirling his finger in circles until it brushed against a little lump.

"AHH! AAAHH! STOP STOP!" Pietro shouted, his back stiffening suddenly as he rose onto his toes and flattened himself against the wall.

"Shit, you okay?" Lance withdrew and stood, turning the shivering speedster to face him. "'Tro, god I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hu-" The rest of his apology was drowned in a fierce kiss that almost sent him to his knees once more.

"Wasn't g-going to l-l-last," Pietro stuttered against his lips. A delectable shiver raced through his body as he rubbed against Lance needily. "Didn't-didn't want to c-c-come yet!"

Lance laughed once before he slanted his lips over his boyfriend's again, tongue caressing quivering lips before plunging in to taste the sharp taste that was all 'Tro for a few moments. "Now you got the idea," he murmured before once against sliding down the slender, but impossibly strong, body he physically ached for, the abs he spent several slow minutes memorizing with his lips and tongue.

As he worked his way down inch by painfully arousing inch, Lance patiently worked to keep Pietro on the knife's edge of ecstasy with firm, steady strokes on his gorgeous dripping cock, without pushing him over. Pietro's breath quickened as Lance slid lower and lower until he was almost hyperventilating. When the dark teen finally slid luscious lips over his shaft, the speed cried out harshly and bit hit lip to keep from thrusting hard into the fiery heat.

Wanted this to last, needed this to last, had to…had to…had to…

One hand fisted in his own hair in attempt to ground him as the other gripped Lance's shoulder almost painfully, fingering flexing each time the dark head bobbed down to lick and suck and ohhhhh god…

"Ah, ah, hnn, god, so good, Lance, fuck," he huffed as his chest heaved. Although his eyes were squeezed tight as he focused just on the wet, hot pulse of Lance's tongue and lips against his flesh, when the dark teen hummed Pietro's eyes shot open. He looked down to lock eyes with the earthshaker, whose dark eyes boiled like black coffee. One of Lance's hands was jerking his own cock with hard, almost painful looking strokes.

"So hot…on your…knees," Pietro hissed as his hips worked into the drawing pull of Lance's mouth. "Dirty fucking…hnnnn…boy," he moaned. The hand on the other boy's shoulder scurried up to wind in his hair as Lance plunged down once more and hummed hard against his base, cutting off Pietro stream of babble.

Lance would make the smart mouthed mutant shut up if it was the last thing he did, although he did enjoy the dirty talk something fierce. But Pietro running his mouth meant he didn't have his FULL attention, something he rectified when he slid his free hand under the silver teens ball's and pressed into him once more.

Pietro's teeth clicked together and he bit his tongue at the lava hot wave of bliss that flooded through him from Lance's combined efforts. He banged his head back against the wall hard, unconscious of everything but the pressure threatening to boil over in him. His muscles tightened spastically, forcing his back into an improbable arch, when Lance's questing fingers hit him right therrrrrre.

Pietro lost complete control of his reactions when Lance pushed into him HARD at the same moment he sucked powerfully at the silver demon's tip. He surged into Lance's mouth and his knees buckled at his orgasm. The earthshaker moaned audibly as Pietro grabbed his head and ground into his face, pulsing in rapid fire bursts on his tongue and into the back of his throat. Lance's finger slipped out and wrapped his arms around the speedster's waist, holding him up and even close as he swallowed again and again around the throbbing, heavy shaft in his mouth. The contractions of his throat forced several harsh cries from Pietro's throat as the pale teen finally spent himself and slumped.

Lance gave him one last long slow suck that made the speedster groan weakly in over-sensitized pleasure, before he slid up his body to press him once more against the wall. The dark teen slanted his lips forcefully over Pietro's, muffling his weak protestations, as he stroked himself hard and fast, grinding his hips against his boyfriend's in desperation.

Pietro's initial protest died as he tasted himself on Lance's tongue, salty and hot, and he threw his arms around his neck, wanting only to bury himself in that their combined taste. Spicy smoke and sweat and everything that was Lance. So strong, powerful, reckless, and demanding. God, why'd he ever wanted anything else?

Pietro moaned into his mouth, a low wanton noise, as he snaked his own hand down to aid the other teen's, lacing his pale fingers between Lance's own and squeezing hard. Lance's thrust amazingly, painfully, forcefully into their combined grip for a few more second before he yanked his head back and moaned, "'Tro…'Tro…'Tro."

Pietro feasted his eyes greedily on Lance's face as the powerful mutant came undone, eyes rolling back and his teeth bared in fierce grimace. Pietro darted down to bite his chest hard and Lance snapped with a wild sound, almost animal as he came in sizzling hot spurts on their stomachs.

"Unn…unnn…GNNHHH!" he panted with each jerk, until he too slumped, going momentarily boneless and dragging the sliver speedster down with him to the floor.

Pietro lay in an insensate mess, halfway propped against the wall and the rest of him sprawled across Lance's sweaty torso. It took several long minutes for both of them to regain the power of speech and fine motor control.

"Y'know, Rockstar," Pietro sighed, still fuzzy with all the crazy tingles that kept darting across his skin unexpectedly. "You have to get a trim at least once a month to keep this cut tidy," He couldn't keep the stupid smile off his face as one dark hand lazily traced his sticky abs while he stroked his boyfriend's now hopelessly messy hair.

"Mmmmm, I can live with that," came the muffled voice from somewhere around his shoulder where a tongue was still licking sweat from his pale flesh. "Hmmmm…next time you won't have to use the garden hose, right?"

The idea had merit to Pietro but not in the way Lance was probably thinking. "Nah, next time you can just take shower beforehand." He slid the rest of the way down the wall to melt into one satisfied puddle of Pietro. "If you're nice, I might join you," he murmured.

"What if I'm really bad?" the dark mutant asked, lifting his head to slide his lips slowly across the speedster's, licking once, twice at the corner of his mouth, the gesture full of heated promise. Goosebumps broke across Pietro's skin once again and he shivered as Lance's lips parted to let his nimble tongue dance and twine with Pietro's own once more. When a tan, calloused hand slid up the inside of his thigh the speed demon grabbed it to stop its upward movement.

"Then we're taking a shower right fucking now!" he hissed. In a moment the bedroom was empty and the only noise heard was the hiss of the water and laughter.

>>66786
thanks for the compliments WaterDove! love making my boys be very masculine even while indulging themselves. when they get all effeminate it just doesn't do much for me. i want them to be RAWR MALE!

Manry men are the best. I love an effeminite gesture here and there but honestly its hard seeing any of the BH boys COMPLETELY effeminite. Pietro is metro at the most. And lance is ever so macho. Full of himself to the Nth degree no doubt, but hes manly. Doesnt mean he cant be all cute and romantic once a year. Lance wouldnt be Lance without the grunge. I AM requestiong someone Draw fag Lance's new hair in a thread somewhere.

i'm not Te, just wish i had his/her imagination. if you want more amazing slash just go to http://teland.com/pairings.html

this is a loooooooong story, but it's my fave by them, so multiple dump coming up. enjoy.

Wally's dreaming that dream again, the one that stopped being entirely good after John Dee went all Skeletor on everyone's asses.

Still, you know, Swedish Bikini Team. Can't ever be entirely bad.

He lets himself sink a little deeper, and Annika's hand is soft and appreciative on the lightning bolt on his chest, as opposed to just really nice to see.

She smiles up at him with big, blue eyes and tilts her head up as Dagmar looks on with jealous fondness, and out of the corner of his eye, Viveka and Helga are making him sincerely wish he was a lesbian.

And the sun's going out.

Annika doesn't seem to be paying any attention, but Helga has stopped doing those cool things with her tongue and Viveka's ear, and she doesn't look happy, at all.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he says, "this happens sometimes." He throws an arm around Annika's (soft, warm, good) waist and it isn't hard to smile. "I promise it'll stop if you just don't pay any attention to it."

Helga says something in (not, you don't know) Swedish that feels a lot like "shut up, stupid man, the sun's going out," and points at the sky.

It's... it's not an eclipse.

He knows what those look like, too -- scary and deeply evil, thank you very much -- and this is more like fading.

Like the sun isn't real (dreaming you're) at all, and maybe never was (wake up now) and maybe he isn't real or maybe they're all just gonna --

Wally jerks awake with a gasp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. Something's wrong. More wrong than just the failure of his subconscious to get Annika's hand to an interesting place.

He tenses, just to make sure all the important muscles are awake, and looks around. Nothing, nothing -- wait.

No, the communicator that's always in his ear these days is still there, and still quiet.

He looks around some more and... okay, that shadow doesn't look right. He tenses more purposefully and --

Batman steps out of the shadows.

"Oh, it's you." Wally lets himself relax a bit, and wakes himself up some more. "So, what's the emergency? Do I need to get the suit on?"

He hopes not.

Sometimes he thinks he wears that suit more than he wears, like, clothes. Which is cool, hero-thing and all, but these days, looking in the mirror in the morning is a lot more... important than it used to be. Than it should be.

He reminds himself to get his hair cut. Reminds himself for about the seventeenth time, and, okay, Fabio!Wally really can't be allowed to happen and --

Batman. Standing there.

"Uh... Bats?"

"... there's no emergency."

"So you're here for... a visit?" Checks the clock. "At three-twenty-four in the morning? Do you live in Central City? Do you even live in this state? Wait, why do you know where I live?" And suddenly the hair flopping in his face -- his face -- is really important.

Batman just gives one of those smiles that make people want to hit him. Like, with buildings. "You really don't think I would have anything to do with you people if I didn't know who you were, do you?"

Which... makes sense. In that creepy, annoying Batman way. Wally rolls his eyes and folds his hands behind his head. "Right. You know, people who show up in my bedroom in the middle of the night usually do more than just lurk in a corner and stare."

The slightest head-tilt. "How do you know I don't plan to?"

Wally blinks. Blinks again. Really thinks about that for a second, because, yeah, 'I think he likes you,' and the fact that, sometimes, Batman talks to him now. In whole sentences even. But...

No. No way. It's just a really sudden and random Batjoke, and he can go with that. The rest of the League might be able to pound him into Wallybits with, like, their pinkies, but no one out-banters the Flash.

He puts on his best smirk. "Didn't know you swung that way, Bats."

And Batman just smirks right back at him. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

O-kaaaay. Up the ante. "Gonna teach me?" Wally shifts a little beneath the sheets and grins, because no way Batman's gonna beat that. You can't.

Except that Batman's smile changes in this weird way. Still kind of sharp, still kind of mean, but now his mouth is open enough for Wally to see the shine of teeth.

And the man can move really, really fast when he wants to.

So that Batman's-staring-at-me-from-over-there is suddenly Batman's-standing-right-over-me-and-I-reallywish -I-could-see-his-eyes.

"Uh," is what his vocal cords come up with.

"I can teach you a lot of things."

Continued
"Heh. More than just how to scare the hell out of supervillains just by being yourself and how to defuse a bomb while people are beating the crap out of you?" And yeah, mouth way ahead of his brain, now, but now that he thinks about it...

"Mm-hmm..."

Now that he thinks about it, Batman has been kind of the font of scarily useful information just lately. "A lesser man would take the opportunity to point out that you're acting kind of weird, Bats."

Another head-tilt, and it's a little like the dog in those old commercials, except that the dogs were cute, as opposed to. To. "And what would a greater man point out?"

"That we're flirting. Um."

Closer. "Just... flirting?"

And his eyes are starting to hurt from being open this wide for this long, but his mouth is still talking. "I think you have to do more than talk for things to qualify as. Uh. More than flirting."

"I think I could surprise you."

"I bet you -- Jesus, Batman, what --"

And it's... it's really weird to be petted, to be caressed by someone wearing thick, plastic-y gloves, but that's exactly what's happening.

Batman's hand on his cheek. Soft. Affectionate. Gone, just that fast.

"You can say no."

"Say... no?" To sex, his brain helpfully points out. Sex. With Batman. Which, at three-thirty on a Wednesday morning, is apparently very, very close. Wally forces himself to blink.

And keeps his eyes closed because that's Batman's thumb. On his mouth.

And it's a little harder -- a very important kind of little bit harder -- than a caress.

"I don't know as much about you as I could." Gentle-voiced. Or as gentle as someone like Batman probably gets.

What he said... is something between a question and a promise. Wally opens his eyes again. "This is. Sudden."

"Is it? I suppose you're right."

Which means, well, not sudden. Not for Batman, at least.

"Think about it."

And Batman turns and moves toward the window, which Wally's just noticing is open.

And stops.

And Wally realizes he must've said something, mainly because Batman says:

"No?"

A really terrifying blank pause and then it comes back: 'I don't want to think.'

And what the hell did that mean?

This time the pause just stays silent and unhelpful. "Batman. I..."

"I'm tempted to ask you what you don't want to think about."

"That wouldn't really help with the whole not-thinking thing."

"No." Batman turns, and looks over his shoulder. Smiles in a way that on anyone else Wally would call 'sympathetic.' "And I have my suspicions."

And he can't really look at the man for that, not when his head is giving him all sorts of other things to look at. Bad things like John calling to cancel movie night in the Wild Thing. Good things like John smiling and being all happy and relaxed... at Hawkgirl. "Yeah, well," he tries, staring at the rumpled sheets, but he can't really come up with anything to say.

"I understand."

Blaze of anger and "hey, it's not like that. It's not like we were. That we did." Anything, at all, ever. Ever.

"I understand that, too, I think."

Blaze of anger he doesn't know what to do with. And Batman's just looking at him, and Wally thinks he's happy he can't see the man's eyes. "Don't. Don't say anything else. About that."

"All right."

"I don't want to think," he says again, only he knows he's saying a lot more than that.

And so does Batman, because that hand is back on his face, and he has just enough time to lean into it before Batman's mouth is on his own.

Coffee and peppermint and a hot, wet, tongue sliding in just far enough for Wally to suck on.

And now would maybe be a good time to mention that the only reason he hadn't done anything with (to, near) John is that he doesn't really know what to do, and is only really starting to figure out that this is something to do, but you can't talk while you're kissing.

Or maybe Batman can, but Wally's not going to let him.

He slides his arms around the man's neck, slipping a bit on the cowl, and pulls him in.

And Batman crouches over him, both hands on his face and... not really holding him still so much as urging a certain position. Something to make the kiss easier, and deeper.

Faster and hotter.

"I didn't. I never thought... I mean. Not about you."

"I spend a lot of time making sure people don't."

"Yeah? So why --" He cuts himself off with another kiss, shaking his head. And it makes the kiss messier, but it also seems to really just encourage Batman. Who licks a wet stripe over his cheek and breathes hot and damp on his ear.

"Because I want to." And shoves his tongue in.

"Unh... good reason."

Low, soft chuckle, and Batman's got a hand on his chest and the other in his hair. Holding him. Watching him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"It's been known to happen. Flash --"

"Okay, you know, I know you've got the whole secret identity thing down to, like, an art, but you really need to call me Wally if we're."

"Then you need to say it."

"Having sex."

"Mm. Wally," he says, and then he doesn't say anything at all, because he's kissing Wally again.

Pressing him down against the mattress and tugging a little on his hair and shifting and sliding until he's pressed close all over him, and, yeah, Wally's dick is awake.

Thrusts up hard and --

"Ow. Uh. How much of this can we get off of you without giving you issues?"

Somewhat rueful smile. "A lot."

And Batman kneels up. Slips off the cape, and really, that's enough to make it hit home. Even with everything else on, Batman looks really different without the cape. In a way he never would've considered.

Wally can see where he ends and the rest of the world begins, which seems really stupid, but there it is.

He can see the lines and curves of muscle and bone.

Batman pauses with his hand over something that's probably a catch in his suit. "What is it?"

"I just. I'm just thinking we must look really naked to you. All the time. I mean... those of us without capes."

A smile, and Wally's back to wanting to see his eyes again. "You will now."

And that's... nowhere near as distracting as Bruce's chest, bare and pale and heavily scarred, but it's still...

They're gonna be in the Tower, maybe even in a few hours, and Batman's going to be looking at him and seeing him naked.

More naked than he could be even here, even now, with just his boxers on.

And he's about to give that serious thought, but the apparently-armored brief-thingies come off with just a quick series of movements and a yank, and then Batman's standing.

A lot, right.

Wally closes his eyes and shimmies out of his boxers, and when he opens them again, Batman is naked.

It should be weirder than it is, with the cowl leading not-that-smoothly to skin and... skin.

A lot of skin.

Batman doesn't seem to mind him staring. Not as much as he minds himself staring, because, yeah, he's thinking about John again, and John's apartment, and the way that John was almost, almost as tough-guy big as Batman, except that he was brown and perfect.

Even the tattoo was even-lined and ruler straight.

And... you have to really look at a naked Batman to see the... perfection.

"So many scars..." And he actually has time to stare and blink and stare and blink before he realizes what he just said. "I mean. That is..."

Batman is smiling again, loose and casual with his arms at his sides. "Sometimes, not having superpowers makes a difference."

"I... can't believe you just said that out loud."

"I'm a bastard, not an idealist." He puts out a hand. "Come here."

Easier to do than think about. Story of his life, right. He's up, and standing, and it's one of those weird moments where the fact that you only had a sheet over you doesn't seem to matter to the way your body understands temperature.

He shivers, and Batman slides his hand up the outside of his arm, up over his shoulder to cup his neck.

Pulls him in, very slowly and weirdly carefully, for another kiss. Just their lips touching at first, and for a long time.

Then his tongue in Wally's mouth, his hand in his hair.

"You're. Trying to get me used to the... idea."

"I might just be trying to distract you." Slow, wet lick over his lower lip.

"It's working."

"Good." But Batman pulls away again. Steps back.

Continued

Takes Wally's hand and presses it against his chest, just next to a long, looping scar that looks like it should have spilled out important, life-keeping things when it was an open wound.

Watches him, but Wally doesn't have to be taught, even if a little leading sometimes helps.

Warm skin. Smooth as anyone's.

Smoother on the scar, itself, except for its ragged, scar-like edges. The largest part of his brain is clearly devoted to something other than language.

This is not new.

Hot skin, cooler on the scar.

Hair. A little.

It occurs to Wally that he's standing naked in his own bedroom and slowly, methodically, petting a mostly-naked Batman. And studying him in a really obvious way.

He thinks this would bother him more if the words "human, he's human" weren't repeating themselves in his mind like the world's stupidest soundtrack. Worse than a Hanna-Barbera cartoon.

He is not thinking about Yogi Bear while in the middle of almost having sex with Batman.

"Wally."

He blinks, and looks up. Stares at the cowl and stares and stares and completely fails to find anything like a hint.

The kiss is better. Even with the edges of the cowl digging into his skin. Batman's mouth isn't soft in any way except for how he uses it, and Wally knows that means something.

He pulls out of it and goes back to... studying.

It's not like he's getting anything new and profound, it's just that.

He wants to see this, all of this, in a way he hasn't before, or ever even thought of seeing it.

Batman's never been anywhere near the really very wide and varied compartment of his brain labeled 'sex.'

Except that his body is saying that he is, so now he just needs his mind to catch up.

"Wally," Batman says again, and the hand is back in his hair, fingers pressing down on his scalp and digging in. Not pain, just...

He has a sudden bizarre desire to have someone wash his hair, except that it couldn't be all that special, or women would never leave the stylists' shops, right? Right. He doesn't manage a word so much as a sound with a lot of 'n's.

Tilts his head back and presses up.

"You like that."

"I'm starting to think about getting it tattooed on my forehead: 'Pet the Wally. Do it early, do it often.'"

And he can feel Batman's chest tense beneath his hand, but doesn't have time to think about what it means before that mouth is on his throat.

Sucking kisses and making him gasp.

"Where else do you want to be... petted?"

And his dick is sending serious messages, urgent messages, but the tattoo should maybe also include 'kiss the Wally, and say things to the Wally' and it's really very, very strange that he's only touched that one part of Batman's body, and only with his hand.

Shakes loose and leans in, starting himself off with a glancing kiss to Batman's jaw and then... stopping.

No stubble.

"You shaved?"

"Hope springs eternal."

And that's... he can't even think of it as weird. It's just normal and kind of cute, because... dude, this is a date.

A date with Batman.

He laughs against Batman's cheek

"I'm actually flattered."

"I should've done this months ago."

And, okay, that? Not laughing anymore, because Batman has a smile in his voice, but that never stops the man from being deadly serious at any other time, and. "I can't. I can't picture it."

"You couldn't picture it twenty minutes ago." Half-laughed into his ear.

"Yeah, but I'm -- heh -- quick on the uptake." And he slides the hand that's still just resting on Batman's chest down and to the right and. Mm. Nipple.

Does it again just to feel the weirdly springy catch of it against his fingers.

Again when Batman... it's not a gasp. It's a slow, heavy exhale, too heavy too even tickle.

And a step closer.

"You... what do you like?"

"Hard."

He gasps, but he does it. Pinches hard and gets another hot breath. Twists and gets his earlobe bitten, sudden and hard, and the sound he makes is more like a yelp than anything else.

"Sorry --"

"No -- I."

Batman does it again and Wally twists again, and their knees are knocking together and that's not even remotely the most important point of contact.

Point of contact. Jesus. But his hips are moving, and it's still slow, but it's not gonna stay that way.

And Batman slides his hands over Wally's back, and they're hard and callused and he wonders what happens when... whoever the man is behind the cowl has to shake hands. What people think.

And then he's not wondering much at all because those hands are on his ass, pulling him in hard and crushing Wally's hand between them. He jerks, shakes for a moment, and then his hips are moving.

Just... upright isn't the best, he knows that, but it's like the first time he really got crazy on a dance floor, the first time he realized the woman he was dancing with wanted him to do just... this.

He groans and shuts his eyes and clings to Batman's waist with his free hand. Gives up and strokes when Batman kisses him again, and does his own pulling when the man starts thrusting back.

Because... skin.

So much of it.

It's not like he'd forgotten the man was almost as big as Superman, it's just that it's all a lot more important with the suits off, with Batman diving into his mouth like the world's best pool, apparently having decided that Wally's had enough time to get used to the whole gay sex idea, and, really.

He's not wrong.

Batman walks them back to the bed and breaks the kiss long enough to give Wally the slightest push. He goes with it, falling back into a bounce, knees bent over the side of the bed, legs spread around Batman's own and. Oh.

Naked man, hard naked man just sort of looming above him -- is his bed that low? -- and staring and it makes his skin prickle all over. Makes his nipples almost hurt with how hard they are, and his dick twitches entirely without his permission. "Batman. Uh --"

And Batman just... rakes his eyes over him, fast, but not so fast that he can't almost feel it.

Like a hard hand worked into a claw, scratching its way all over his body.

And Batman drops to his knees and strokes Wally's thighs, makes him really feel them, every hair trying to stand up and the muscles just flexing and flexing until his mind catches up with them and he spreads them wider.

Thumbs in the creases between his thighs and his abdomen and it makes him buck, makes him whine in the back of his throat and he's just starting to sit up when Batman sucks the head of his dick into his mouth and... he can't.

There's a sort of distant thump when his head hits the mattress and the rest is just hot and wet and oh fuck "suck me --"

And Batman does, hard, grabbing him by the root and just holding him and it feels like he's been hard for a year, like maybe when it comes it'll kill him, but mostly it just feels really fucking good.

His mouth falls open and he's groaning, he's begging, and he can hear himself, but it doesn't make a difference.

Or maybe makes it hotter.

He scrabbles at the sheets and holds on, because it feels like he's gonna vibrate himself off the bed and he can't stop thrusting up, even with Batman holding on tight, and the friction yanks him higher, makes him need it more, more of just this, right here, and he's babbling and scratching at the bed and orgasm jerks him up, until he's curled up over Batman's back and pumping helplessly.

"Batman oh God oh God --"

And he can feel the man's scars, his back is covered with them, like maybe some supervillain tied him to a whipping post at some point, and Batman is still sucking, still holding on, and it hurts and it hurts and then it's just good.

Because he's hard again.

And Batman pulls off with a little wet pop and disentangles himself gently and efficiently.

"I had my suspicions about your metabolism," he says, and licks his lips.

And Wally tries to say something, but it just comes out desperate and lost and satisfied.

Batman traces patterns on his calves. "I want more."

"Yeah. I... yeah." He gives up on speech and pulls on Batman until he's straddling his chest, and, okay, not exactly what he was going for, but still just really. "God, you're hot."

Batman's got his fist around his own dick. Not really stroking, just holding it. Stroking Wally's hair off his face with his free hand.

And... "are you? Do you want...?"

And Batman bites his lip, just for a second, but... yeah. He's rock hard. His dick is dark with blood and looks huge from this angle and Wally licks his lips.

Continued

Does it again when a drop of pre-come beads out of the tip. Slower. Because... because he wants to make Batman feel exactly as good as he did a minute ago. Because Batman is staring at his mouth.

Wally strokes his way up the broad, heavily-muscled thighs -- more scars -- and tries to look encouraging.

Gives up and goes for 'horny as hell' when Batman does start stroking himself.

And Wally moans and pets against the grain of the sparse hair. "You. Come here. I want --"

It really shouldn't be more intense to get his scalp massaged again, at least, not with the whole naked gay sex actually happening, like, in his bed, but he can't help but push up into it, arching his head back and now he can't see, but that doesn't mean he can't touch.

Slides his hand up and in and... weirdly intimate to cover Batman's fist with his own, more when the man spreads his fingers to let Wally's own slip between, and Batman's still stroking his scalp and still jerking himself off, but now Wally's helping.

And he wants to laugh at that, he does, but his own dick is about thirty seconds from screaming for attention, because hot.

And... he's never going to be touch himself again without thinking: Batman likes it hard. Likes it slow.

"Wally."

Not just his name, but a moan, and it's almost reflexive to try to speed up the pace, but Batman's not letting him. Like, at all. Like this is going to hurt his hand if Wally doesn't get with the program or Batman doesn't stop squeezing.

Wally forces himself to move beyond 'petting good' and rears up a little.

"How do you want to do this?"

"I... haven't actually decided."

"You don't have a plan?"

"I'm feeling spontaneous."

"Your sense of humor is pretty much always horrifying, isn't it?"

Batman just smiles at him, and Wally can't decide if it's better or worse that it's not one of those private smiles. That this one, at least a little bit, is definitely meant for him. That has to be better, right?

"Nn. Damn. I can't really... I want to kiss you again." He lets himself fall back, and Batman takes his hand off his dick, which Wally finds pretty impressive, considering just how hard he is, and what he'd feel like if he was that hard, but then both of those hands are on him.

Stroking his face, carding through his hair.

Slipping down to stroke his throat lightly, carefully, like Batman has Very Specific Ideas about how Wally would react to pressure there, and he wants to say something about that, something that's maybe just "I trust you," but would probably come out as "you're turning me on so much."

But mostly he just...

Hand on his mouth. That hand, the one that smells like Batman's cock. That tastes like it. Or... that tastes like what Wally thinks Batman will, and he can't really think at all, because Batman's pushing two fingers into his mouth and... yeah.

Has to suck on those.

Wants to, and wants to get the message across, because he doesn't really think he had, before, or maybe Batman just thought he'd do a really bad job, and, okay, probable, but...

Quick on the uptake.

He closes his eyes and concentrates, getting his teeth out of the way and pulling them in with suction and... Mm. Licking them, licking them until he can't taste anything but his own spit, and he wonders if this is what it would be like if it was Batman's dick, if it would maybe just come down to how it feels.

Weight and pressure on his tongue and the stretch of his lips.

Wally grabs for Batman's wrist, and the man freezes.

But when Wally tugs he gets with the program. Stroking his way in, thrusting his way in, and. God.

Fucking his mouth.

And he opens his eyes and Batman is... really focused on him. Staring -- probably -- at his mouth, lips just barely parted and... it's not that he moves, or moves much. But Wally can see the moment when Batman realizes his eyes are open, when Batman stops staring at his mouth and starts staring into him.

"You want to suck me..."

And there's something different, something really hard to quantify about that voice, and Wally's really glad he can't actually talk, because he knows he'd just say something damned stupid like "please please take off that stupid pointy-eared cowl." As it is, it's enough that his eyes are trying to roll back in his head, that he can't stop writhing underneath Batman, because Wally's pretty sure he's getting the point.

At least the "oh yes please" parts of the point, because he slips his fingers out slow, dragging them wetly over Wally's chin.

And moves, leaving Wally free to finally scoot back on the bed and his back is yelling at him a little, but... there. It's fine. And now he's free to crawl up onto his knees and grab Batman by the stupid ears and pull him in for a kiss.

And push him down, mostly on the pillows, mostly on the bed, and... yeah.

He hadn't really thought of it before, but there's something really nice about crawling all over someone so big and strong that he doesn't have to be careful.

Especially with Batman just encouraging it, holding him just tight enough that they're pressed together every time Wally shifts, that Wally's weight is all on Batman, no matter what he does.

"God, you're," and he has no idea what he was going to say and he doesn't really care, because he can't decide if it's better to drag his body all over Batman or just his mouth. And he thinks he needs a lot of time and opportunity to study that.

Because Batman's cock is hard and leaking, on his belly, on his cock, and the cowl doesn't taste like anything but plastic, but his efforts on that score make Batman... growl.

Twist beneath him and grab him tighter.

Wally licks his way back to Batman's chin, startling a little at the change in taste and texture between cowl and skin and mouth and tongue and he moans into the kiss and holds on to Batman's shoulders for dear life.

Because it just keeps getting better, and he has no idea what he wants to do beyond -- "Fuck --"

Everything, definitely everything, absolutely everything, because Batman's thumb in his cleft doesn't even tickle.

Doesn't feel weird, doesn't feel anything but hot and hard and how-did-you-not-THINK-about-this-Wally and he spreads his legs and that makes the pressure on his dick even better, and when he manages to look at Batman's face again...

He's smiling.

A hungry smile. A dirty smile. A smile that's absolutely perfect for the man with his dick painting stripes of pre-come on Wally's belly and his thumb doing things to Wally's ass.

"Batman."

"Mm."

"You... I can't --" Wally gives up and pants against the cowl, nuzzling his face against it not because it feels good, but because it's the only thing he can do, and he has to do something.

"What can't you do?"

"God I... don't stop -- fuck --" Batman's thumb dipping in and that hurts, okay, or maybe it just could hurt, his body has no fucking clue beyond 'keep thrusting, definitely keep --' "Batman, you feel so good --"

"I want to fuck you."

"Yeah, yeah, okay --"

"How many times do I have to get you off before you can answer a question like that with your mind, as opposed to your dick?"

"I... what? That was a question? You --"

"I don't actually want to take advantage of you, Wally."

"Even if I encourage it? Because... I'm encouraging."

Low, honest chuckle, and Wally would be happier about it if Batman didn't take his thumb away.

"God, please --"

"Come here."

Wally goes, right into a kiss that almost, almost distracts his body from what it suddenly very dearly wants.

Batman tongue-fucks him and bites him and licks him and sucks his tongue and yeah, okay, yeah, he can understand, he thinks.

Because this is intense, and he wouldn't want to really push anybody he knew was a virgin, but one, he'd never even considered comparing himself to Batman in more ways than the fact that they both had tread on their boots, and two, Wally doesn't actually care.

He breaks the kiss. "You have to know I trust you. Even if I can't see your freaking eyes."

"Wally --"

"I mean, yeah, this is new, but it's not... I'm not. Fuck, I don't have words for this."

And there's a pause, and Batman's not even moving under him anymore, and it's about two seconds from being deeply disturbing, but then Batman tugs on his hair. Hard.

"Um... ow?"

"Suck me."

"Oh. I..."

"I want to see my cock in your mouth."

"Oh God --"

"Wally, do you see? I don't --"

And yeah, he gets it, he totally gets it, but the part of his mind that's freaking out has nothing, absolutely nothing on the part of his mind that's all 'yes, absolutely' and the way the whole of his body is just going for it.

Sliding down Batman's body, dragging his mouth over his chest and Batman's hands are on his shoulders in an entirely non-sexual Wally-stop way, but there's no way he means it, even less when Wally gets his teeth on Batman's nipple and bites.

The hands on his shoulders flex, and Batman's not super-strong or anything, but it still hurts in exactly the right way.

The do-that-again way.

Likes it hard, yeah. Wally can oblige.

Bites his way down and down and smells him and... fuck. Nothing like him at all, in a way that makes him want to do yoga or something so he can suck his own dick and be sure, but, yeah, better things to do now.

Sucks the head into his mouth and shifts and moves and half-falls off the bed again in the search for a better angle and --

"God, Wally, I was just --"

"Yeah, I know, shut up now, okay? I have to concentrate."

"You... what?"

Wraps his hand around Batman's dick and smirks. "I'm new at this stuff, you know."

And he's almost, almost sure that if he could see Batman's face it'd look like his own if, say, he looked out the window and saw a pink elephant flying past, and that's... a pretty good feeling to have, really.

Gratifying.

But he still closes his eyes when he goes back down, because he wants to do this right, and he doesn't want to be distracted, and... fuck. Tastes good. Hums around his mouthful and thinks deep and serious thoughts about taking up an entirely new career, and not just because this one probably won't ever end up with him being tossed into space.

Because Batman is groaning and panting and, fuck, shooting pre-come all over his tongue.

Because no matter what he said, this is exactly what he wanted, and Wally's giving it to him.

And taking it for himself.

damn post limits...sorry this is so long

Continued

Wally sucks hard, hard as he can, and the sound Batman makes... it's like he's gritting it out, like it hurts him, and when those hands are back on his head they're shaking. And not pushing, not at all, but Wally knows what he'd want.

Goes down a little farther, trying to get his tongue to do interesting things, trying to keep up the suction --

"Wally. Wally --"

And then just pushing himself as far as he can, smashing his mouth against his own fist and trying to fuck himself a little. Like Batman did with his fingers. Like... God. It's just too good.

Pushes Batman's chest down with his free hand and drags his knee up a little and his hips have no problem with this. He's humping the mattress and fucking his own mouth with almost the same rhythm, and then it is the same rhythm and his lips.... They don't feel raw so much as used. Being-used.

And he's going to come from this. He is.

All Batman has to do is anything, anything like just exactly that, weaving his fingers into Wally's hair and moving him, up and down, and it's just a little faster, but that means his hips can go faster, and he's drooling and sucking and coming all over the sheets and he's still hard, and now it really hurts and he shakes himself loose and grabs his own stupid, needy dick.

"God, I'm sorry, I'm just --" Shaking.

And Batman rears up and grabs him, kisses him hard and slams them back down to the bed and grabs Wally's wrists and presses them against the sheets and drives against him.

"Oh fuck --"

Chafing his dick and fucking him. Just... it shouldn't feel so big and important with Batman rubbing himself off against him, but it does, it does.

Not just because it's real damned easy to imagine being pressed down, being held down just like this while Batman goes for it. "I want you in me. I want --"

And Batman strikes like a fucking snake, biting him hard just beneath his ear and holding on with his teeth and just riding him.

"Oh God that actually hurts don't stop don't you dare stop --"

Growl against his skin, flat and animal and serious and. Wet heat between them, making it smoother, better.

"You just came on me. Oh my God --"

And now his dick is slipping in Batman's come, slipping around between them and no, doesn't hurt anymore, not even with Batman giving these sharp little bites all over his face. Quick as kisses but so much more than that, and he's still moving, still working on him, and Wally wants to move.

Goes for it, pushing out of Batman's hold with a grunt and rolling them over again, bracing one foot on the floor when he feels himself dangling in space and. "Wait, wait. Let's try for on the bed. Both of us, even."

Narrow little smile and Batman gives him a little push until Wally disentangles himself and then moves until he's sitting up against the wall, tossing pillows aside.

And that... he really has to take a moment. Naked, naked Batman, half-hard and sticky with come. In his bed. Tossing his pillows on the floor. And beckoning him closer with one hand, so maybe he doesn't need to take a moment at all.

Straddles Batman's thighs and takes a kiss.

Another one because it feels so good. Because Batman seems to be on the same page, and that's just...

You don't give that up unless you're crazy.

Hands in his hair, again.

"You like long hair. Uh."

"I like yours." Little tug, not sharp at all, and Batman licks his way into his mouth and Wally spreads a bit more, so he can be short enough to let the man do his thing comfortably, because, really, he's liking his hair, too, right now.

Sudden, ridiculously hot image -- Batman with one hand yanking on his hair and one hand on his hip and. "Jesus," he says, slurred around Batman's tongue.

"What are you thinking?"

"You. Fucking me. Pulling my hair."

"Mm. We always tell you to use your head more often, Wally."

And he doesn't have time to say anything to that because Batman is yanking his hair, yanking his head back and sucking on his throat and licking him and rubbing one nipple with his other thumb and --

"I don't want to mark you."

"Suit. Suit covers..."

"Not the point."

"It so is. I want to see this tomorrow. I want to know -- oh God --"

Batman biting him, doing it hard and doing it all over his throat and pinching his nipple and it's so fast that his body doesn't have time to decide whether it hurts or feels good or feels good because it hurts.

And Batman's pulling his hair so hard that he has to catch himself on his hand, and now he's arched over like something in moderately scary porn, but his body can handle it. It can.

He wants to feel this tomorrow, too.

And Batman's clearly gotten that, because some of those bites are hard enough to bruise, maybe hard enough -- no, he hasn't drawn blood and he probably won't. And suddenly Wally has an image of Batman systematically testing his own strength, figuring out just how much he can do... everything.

Except that that would require someone to experiment on, because he doesn't think Batman is that flexible and yeah, brain off the rails.

He's getting used to the feeling.

And now he's thinking about it. Wondering what it would be like to have this every night, or just every night when they weren't actively working to save the world, and... did Batman even want that?

Would he have taken his mask off if he did?

"I may not be psychic, but it's very, very obvious when you're thinking, Wally."

"Heh. Smoke coming out of my ears?"

"Just a little."

"I'm just..." Okay, weird to have a conversation when your body is doing a good impression of a pretzel. He sits up. Runs a hand down his chest. Does it again because... damn.

He's either sticky or slick or raw, everywhere he touches. His dick gives a helpful throb, just in case he was in danger of forgetting why.

"Uh."

"What's wrong?"

"Hunh? Nothing. Really... just. Not to be a total girl about this, but, uh, is this a one-time thing? It's okay, I mean, I know I'm really not relationship material and. Hell. I just kind of want to know."

"You're thinking about this now."

"Hey, I never claimed to be the Best Timingest Man in the World."

"Just the fastest. Riiight." Batman shakes his head, but he's smiling.

Stroking Wally's cheek, and he has enough time to wonder if that's an answer, and if it is what he's supposed to do with it, and if there's a Batman-to-English dictionary anywhere that he can buy, and if maybe Superman is writing one if there isn't one already, and just how much he really cares, if getting an answer he can understand means no more of this, right now, but --

"It's the mask."

Wally rewinds a bit. Thinks. "Not... necessarily?"

Batman nods, slowly. Drops his hand after one last thumb-stroke over his eye, and now they're not touching anywhere but where Wally's straddling him.

It shouldn't make as much of a difference as it does.

"I've thought about this. About... us."

"I. I figured." And hey, you don't need to be way over there, he doesn't say.

"I can't say I didn't believe it would eventually become necessary for you to have more than I could give."

"You just hoped. I mean. Hell. Look, I just want to know whether I can grope your ass on the Tower tomorrow." Wally tries a smile.

"Depends on whether or not I'm in the middle of arguing with Superman."

"You always are. But --" That's an answer. That's enough for tonight, and he leans in for a kiss, but Batman stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Wally."

"Yeah?"

"It's not. It doesn't have anything to do with trust."

Which... he has to blink at that. And think about it, and think some more and... he really doesn't get it.

But he also doesn't think Batman would lie to him unless it was, like, necessary for the sake of the universe or something, which, no matter what his dick says, this actually isn't. So.

He nods. Leans in again, pushing against the hand on his chest until it stops pushing and kisses him. On the cowl.

Grins when Batman jumps and does it again.

Kisses the pointy little ears and. Ow. "Hey, do you ever use these things as weapons?"

"Not yet."

Heh. And you know, that could definitely be a threat, and probably was, but it's a lot harder to take the man that seriously than it used to be. Like, an hour ago. "Hey, Batman."

"Yes?"

"We just had a heart-to-heart. Like, despite ourselves."

Batman's smile is mostly for himself, Wally thinks, but it's there. Available, even. Wally tilts the man's head back until he can look into... the blank whiteness where his eyes should be.

Shakes his head and grins his own secret smile. "Heart-to-heart conversation equals acknowledgement of ourselves as equals -- don't argue -- means that there is absolutely no reason for you not to fuck me."

Batman... the eye-holes narrow. That's probably a blink. "Your mind works in... absolutely fascinating ways."

"Yeah, you love it."

More a show of teeth than a smile. "Do I?"

That's definitely a threat, but Wally? Is a superhero. Like, all the time now. "Yeah. Because I think I'm starting to get you, Batman." He rolls his hips a little, and it's nowhere near enough friction, and it doesn't quite make Batman soften as much as it makes him... focus.

"Do tell."

"Mm. Like I said. I figured you'd given this some thought. Which, since you're you, means that you've given this a lot of thought. And. Well. You could've just told me to fuck off a minute ago, but instead you... tried to make me understand."

"And what does that tell you?"

Wally wraps his arms around Batman's neck and grins a little wider. "That you kind of like me. Because you wouldn't do this at all if you didn't. No matter how much you wanted my ass."

"Maybe I just felt impulsive."

"Uh, huh. Pull the other one. In fact, pull something, because I --"

Wally hits the bed so hard he bounces, thighs screaming a little at the stretch until he straightens his legs and braces his feet on the wall and Batman's not giving him any room to breathe.

Not giving him any room to do anything, because, God, big and heavy and, yeah, if he hadn't decided that Wally was Ready before, he sure has now, and it's.

It's exactly like having sex with Batman should be.

Rough and fast and hard and mind-blowing, and that's just the kiss.

Batman bites his lip and fucks his mouth and holds him still. Like he's gotten Wally exactly where he wants him and has no intention of letting him so much as shift. Wally holds on tight, stroking his way over the scars and muscle of Batman's back, down to his ass and. He doesn't have to pull him in any tighter.

He doesn't think he could.

But he can ride this, and take this, and this time the bites on his throat will definitely leave marks, and he still can't decide if they're better or worse than the sucking.

It's good, it's all good, and "more. I want --"

"There are a lot of things we can do, Wally."

"Why don't you just assume you've got blanket permission and that I'll tell you if I want you to stop anything?"

"You're a dangerous man, Wally."

"I've been telling you --"

"Turn over. Hands and knees."

And oh, yeah. Normally he's pretty careful about using his speed with someone in close proximity, but Batman can take it.

He doesn't even hesitate, just starts stroking his back.

And biting it.

"You are really relentlessly oral, man."

"Maybe you just taste good."

"That's... really disturbingly cannibalistic, while also being hot and flattering."

"I like giving you things to think about."

"I knew it, this is just a dastardly attempt to improve my mind --" And the last word turns into a yelp, because Batman's licking his ass, and spreading him and... yeah, there, too, and there's a tiny, tiny moment of "ew," but it's so tiny that Wally thinks he only noticed it because he's used to his brain moving at top speed and then he's not really thinking at all because...

Because fuck.

"God. God, were you thinking of this -- no wait, don't stop to answer me don't oh God that's --"

Good. Really, really... oh God, if getting fucked feels anything remotely like this he's spending the rest of his life bent over stuff and hoping.

Bent over stuff and actively encouraging, because he's really sweating now, it's hot as hell, and Batman is... God, he's fucking him with his tongue, really.

Really just going for it, and Wally's body can't decide whether to melt or vibrate off the bed.

"Batman. Batman please --" And he doesn't know what he's begging for, because this is so perfect that he's gonna come before he can make his hand move enough to get to his dick.

Stroking in, fast, and Wally gives up and drops to his elbows, rubbing his face against the sheets because he can't do anything else and he needs to feel something, needs to know he exists beyond Batman's hands on his hips and Batman's tongue in his ass.

"Please," he says again, and he's working his hips back, swallowing back spit and needing, needing.

And Batman stops. Puts a hand on his back to keep him from moving.

"Unh. God. You just... I need."

"You're beautiful like this. Flushed all over."

His dick throbs and he knows if he could make himself look down and back he'd be connected to the sheets by his own pre-come.

"Your hair hanging in your face..."

"Not that this isn't really, really nice, but --"

Can't even describe the sound he makes and doesn't feel like trying because Batman shoves his thumb in. All the way to the second knuckle and, okay, different, burns, but when he pants out a breath something changes and...

God, just waves of feeling, all the way up his back and down into his fingers, making him curl them into the mattress and shake.

"Do you want this, Wally?"

"Make me... make me want it. You can... oh God." Rocks his hips back and he doesn't get any deeper, he can't, but then Batman pulls out just a little and pushes back in and drives a moan out of him.

"Beautiful..."

"Please --"

"I don't... you don't have to beg --"

"Does it make you harder? I want you... God, I want you to feel just like I do..."

Grunt that's maybe, maybe the same as a groan from anyone else and now Batman's fucking him, and it doesn't hurt at all, doesn't do anything but make Wally feel it in his belly, in the palms of his hands.

"I can't... God, fuck me, just..."

"Are you going to come?"

"I... don't... not yet --"

"Then I have to stop --"

"No --"

"Just for a second. We need lubricant for this. I don't." Shaky hand stroking his hip, his thigh.

"I... okay. Okay. Don't make me wait."

Wet sounds behind him, and he'd be more amused about it -- he's got lotion in his drawer but his drawer is closed -- but, for one thing, it's just not that much of a surprise, and for another thing, his body is screaming now at him, and God, he wants.

Slick, cool finger sliding inside him. One, long, longer and thinner than the thumb and Wally shoves back until it's jabbing him and a gasps out a moan into the sheets.

"We can't do this fast --"

"We can."

And Batman slips out and jabs in hard, and that's gotta be two fingers, and maybe it's supposed to be an object lesson, but it just makes Wally want more.

"Yes yes do it --"

Twisting inside him and.

There's nothing like this, nothing and someday he wants Batman to do just this, to finger him until he's screaming, more than he is right now.

Because he would, and it would be so fucking good, so intense that it's driving him right out of his skin, and the noises he's making are mindless, stupid, needy things from deep in his chest.

Yeah, it hurts, and it's too fast, and he gets that, but it's also Batman, Batman's fingers inside him, stretching him out for his dick, and Wally's so hard he feels like he could break things.

Maybe just himself.

"Please Batman --"

"Wally --"

"I need this. I need you in me --"

"I can't."

Fingers out of him and he knows that he's gonna get it, get this, but he still can't keep himself from spreading wider, from arching his back for it and whimpering and begging with everything he is.

Blunt nudge against him, and maybe a nanosecond of pause before Batman pushes in, shocking him silent, making Wally bite at the sheets and bite his own tongue.

But even the general sense of not-ready has nothing on the need, on the screaming mindless need to have Batman inside him.

Fucking him.

And he pushes back and yells and Batman's hands are on his hips, holding him still, but Wally's stronger and nothing's gonna stop him now. Pushes himself back up onto his hands for better leverage and slams back, and it shocks this desperate, hungry little sound out of Batman even as it just shuts him right up.

Huge. Just... huge, and his eyes are wide with it, his body is thrumming with it, and there's a yell pushing at the backs of his teeth and Wally shakes his head against it, against the feel of Batman's hands tightening on his hips, against all of it.

"Breathe. You have to --"

Gasps out the breath he'd been holding and Batman slides in just that much more, those many miles more, and he's tearing at the sheets.

"Relax."

And that does make him laugh, because how the hell -- oh. "Oh God."

Batman's hands skating over his skin, Batman's hair brushing against his ass, wiry and scratchy in a way that makes him want to scratch more and --

"Oh God."

And he's getting really, really fucking sick of saying that, but it doesn't stop being absolutely true.

"I have to --"

And his brain knows that it was just the smallest of shifts, but his body is telling him about epics, about earthquakes and how they start miles beneath everything else and rock the whole fucking planet. "Do it. Just --"

And Batman's back-thrust feels like it takes every important part of his body that he's never given any thought to with it, like, including his spleen, but that just makes the thrust back in feel even more right.

Like everything's falling back into place. "Again --"

And he's definitely going to have finger-shaped bruises on his hips and his ass may never be the same and Wally throws his head back and fuck. That was closer to a bark than anything else, and his arms are shaking with fatigue, because apparently all of his energy was devoted to getting this, whether he was aware of that or not.

"Batman. God, Batman --"

In him and riding him, riding him hard and speeding up with every stroke, killing him with every stroke.

"Never. Never want you to stop..."

Hauling him back into every thrust and Wally can hear them, and it's wet and it's nasty and it's porn, only it's right here, in his bedroom. In his life and in him.

Inside. "Please --"

And Batman pauses and shifts and now Wally's screaming, and he has a heartbeat to think "neighbors," but then it's just the feeling, the motion, quick flares of sensation and image that don't seem to have anything to do with his body or his senses beyond the way that everything is about the pure, raw fuck Batman's giving him.

"Need you..."

And it might even be true. More than might when Batman covers his back just long enough to haul them both up, spreading Wally's thighs over his own again and pulling him down.

He doesn't know what to do with his hands. He doesn't know what to do with himself, it's just too much, and every move just makes it more. Deeper, hotter, crazier -- "Fuck me, Batman, fuck me --"

And Batman takes one hand off his hip and yanks him back by the hair into a shallow, dirty kiss that he can scream into.

It's the only thing he can do, since he can't remember how to make his tongue work, but. Arms.

Wally reaches up and back and holds Batman there and those big, hard hands are back on his hips and moving him, screwing him down onto Batman's dick, and Wally yells and whimpers and begs and occasionally remembers to breathe so he can do more of the same.

Suck the tip of Batman's tongue and work his hips and orgasm hits him exactly like a brick to the head, if the brick was six feet long and slamming him into a wall. His eyes fly open and the noise he makes is high and desperate and Batman's driving into him, pulling out of the kiss and biting his shoulder.

Wally lets his head fall back and goes with it. His body is loose and useless and humming with so much satisfaction that every thrust is almost a shock, making him blink and grunt and want...

Exactly this.

Slides one hand down over his stomach and into the come and just... rubs it in. Because this is part of it, this is sex, and the only thing that would make it better is if it was Batman's come all over him, but then he wouldn't be fucking him like this.

Wouldn't be rocking his whole body and growling into his skin and holding him like he never wants to let go.

Like he won't ever stop.

And the rhythm's gone, and now it's just hard and harder. Wally reaches back between his legs, and the angle is bad and he's pretty close to dislocating his own shoulder, but when he bends a little he can feel him.

Feel Batman's dick driving in, feel the heavy slap of his balls, and --

"Wally --"

One last slam and fuck.

Batman's coming.

Inside him.

Holding his hips so hard Wally thinks they'll maybe snap.

And then relaxing. A little.

Panting hard against his back.

Wally tries to remember how to breathe.

Batman strokes his thighs, slow and firm, and eventually Wally realizes that they're shaking. Lets himself fall the rest of the way forward to take some of the pressure off and okay, gah, that was poorly considered.

Considering.

Batman just pets him a little more. Up over his hips and his ass, pushing and pulling a little until they're completely disengaged.

Wally shivers at the feel of come running down the cleft. Down his thighs.

"Jesus," is what he can come up with.

"Are you. Are you all right?"

And at first that seems like a deeply, deeply stupid question, but... okay, maybe he can actually turn his face out of the mattress.

Eventually.

Wally nods as obviously as he can and stays right where he is.

Batman's response is to press his thumb to the base of his spine and slide it down.

Wally yips into the sheets, jerks and flips himself over. "Not that all right. Uh. God."

Batman's... that's definitely a smirk. He looks Wally up and down with a really kind of thorough satisfaction.

"What?"

Slick hand on his slicker belly and sliding down. Pausing.

Wally looks and... little Wally is asleep. Heh. No wonder Batman's smug. "You do realize that you can change that with about three good strokes, right?"

The smirk freezes on his faces. Those eye-holes narrow again. "I honestly don't know whether to be impressed or terrified for the world."

Wally's turn to smirk. "Go with impressed. I only use my powers for good."

Slow head-shake, and Batman offers his hand.

Hauls Wally up so they're both kneeling and kisses him... slow. Not really gentle, but definitely slow. Wally stretches and keeps kissing, and when he can make his arms move again, he wraps them around Batman's neck.

Pushes him over backwards until it's Batman's turn to unbend his legs or die of terminal thigh-burn. Kisses some more.

"Mm." He grabs the pillows he can reach and arranges them haphazardly. Mostly under his head. A little under Batman's. Relaxes with a sigh.

"I can't stay."

"Mm-hmm. Places to go, other superheroes to introduce to the wacky world of gay sex, I hear you."

"Wally --"

"Just. Wait 'til I'm asleep. It won't take long."

"... all right."

Wally presses a kiss to Batman's shoulder and closes his eyes. Yawns. Absently checks that the comm is still in his ear, as opposed to fucked out of his head and into the next apartment or something.

"You wear it all the time."

"Yeah. You never know, right?"

Non-committal little sound.

Wally yawns some more and... snuggles. A little. Not enough that Batman won't be able to get out of bed easily, but... warm.

Nice.

Grins to himself and dives back into sleep, wondering if Annika is waiting for him.

end.

like i said if you want to read more by Te go to http://teland.com/pairings.html

Does anyone know the artist for this? I think I got it in another plus4chan thread and would really like to see more of the artists stuff. Thanks in advance.

>>70682
Emi, aka afire on Livejournal

>>60150

I like this picture, a lot.

also bump

Any Dick/Wally? Robin/KF or Nightwing/Flash. :)

I'll just put this here...

Even the mean speedsters need love too.

>>62727
oh god I want this. I shouldn't, but I do.

I was just about to complain about the lack of Speed... Seriously, I'll accept Speed x Anyone right now. He's always been in my top favourites for Young Avengers, (Can't decide between him, Billy and Teddy) but after Children's Crusade.... Hnnnnnhg. He's fucking adorable. I'dlikeaBillyTeddyTommythreesome.

>>91468
Jay total husbando material in Earth 2

>>91559
*is
I really need to proofread before I post.

Joss Hinted for Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch in Avengers 2

Quicksilver porn will be coming out of every orifice and I will be so happy

>>91606
I have a weakness for this pairing.

Let's see what I can dig up of Speed that hasn't been posted.

>>91598
confirmed to be in first draft. Quicksilver porn, quicksilver porn everywhere

>>91623
And whedon keeps giving interviews about it. It's gonna be great

>>91786