Disclaimers: If they belonged to us... well, it's *possible*
they'd be grateful. Or, you know, traumatized.

Spoilers: None really. Post Ultimate #1.

Summary: Hank does his best.

Ratings Note: NC-17

Warning: Underage sex continues.

Authors' Note: Um. It's not our fault?

Feedback lets you act smug.
janestclair15@hotmail.com, leytelj@gmail.com

*

It takes some hiding, and no small measure of resolve, but
Hank's finally clear in his mind.

He's going to *end* this. He can't convince himself it's
not been properly (and thoroughly) begun, but he can damned
well nip it in the bud. He's nineteen. Bobby's... not.

He's not even going to admit in his mind how old Bobby is,
but that's the point, he doesn't have to. Because it's
over. Very clearly and definitely over.

So when he walks out from behind the couch, which is behind
a cluster of dusty lamps, which are in turn behind carefully
unmoved study chairs, and an armoire, and a door, and walks
downstairs from the East attic, the non-Ororo one, and unlocks
the door, it's with a straight spine and a firm chin.

He can do this.

He does *not* need anything even remotely resembling a --
good Christ -- relationship with a *mumbledy* year old
*kid*, not even when said kid smells vaguely of vanilla,
sweat, and pure, raw sex.

Especially not when said kid *announced* not six hours
previously that, since he iced up, he didn't *need* a
uniform.

Especially not when said kid has developed, over the course
of the day, a *particular* smile just for Hank which is both
knowing and.

Dammit, he's *read* Lolita.

He's better than this. Smarter.

All the tests said so.

So.

Almost to Bobby's room and he's hardly sweating at all.
Perhaps a touch a perspiration. More properly a glow. Hands
steady. Eyes stern.

He knocks twice, and opens the door to find the room...
very empty.

Hank does not acknowledge his relief.

Undoubtedly Bobby will show up for food, and they can
just have it out then. In the meantime, he can bury
himself in something soothing, calming. Physics.

Perhaps biochemistry.

No, too lurid at the moment.

Definitely physics.

And so he makes his way back to his room with something
like a smile in his heart, opens the door, steps in, and
manfully doesn't run like a girl at the sight of Bobby,
bareass naked *on* *his* *bed*, and apparently doing math
homework.

Little wiggle when he comes in.  He's never sure whether
it's deliberate.  There's something so casual about Bobby's
nakedness.  Though he wonders what exactly would make him
believe that it *is* deliberate.

Lying in just a t-shirt under the lawn sprinkler, maybe.
One foot up, big sunglasses on, reading a soggy book.

See, there's no water here.

Bobby arches.  Pushes the book away and lays back down with
his head on his arms, looking at Hank from over his elbow.
Little wicked smile.

Gets up and walks toward him.

Little hand on his arm.

"Bobby..."

"Hey.  I wondered where you were."

"You can't..."

"Can you help me with this?  Please?"  Pointing at the math
book like it's the only important thing in the room.  Like
he's been sitting at the table with all sorts of perfectly
decent clothes on, waiting for Hank to come explain
quadratic equations to him.

Pulls him by the hand over to the bed and bounces on it a
couple of times.  Pulls the book up to rest against his
crossed legs.  Innocent and insistent and damn him for an
idiot because he sits down too.

Because whatever else is true, getting Bobby to learn is
one of the highest powers of this fucked-up excuse for a
school.  Only one of them who's truly school-aged, and he's
free-range in a way that has to frustrate the professor.
Hard to chase greased lightning from a wheelchair.

Nothing like Storm, who does her own thing, or Piotr, who
ploughs through engineering books with dogged determination
and the art books like they're porn or something.  Or Jean,
who studies the way the Professor studies, that way that
makes your hair stand up.  Or Scott, who's on a secret and
very obvious quest to know everything.

Nothing like him.

Just this occasional determination to learn, always mixed
up in other things and places they shouldn't go.

Bobby leaning against him while he sketches out solutions
on the looseleaf.

Almost in Hank's lap by the time he straightens.

On him and kissing him before he can pull his brain out of
the necessary abstraction.  Little tongue in his mouth and
oh yes, naked.  He really is just the nakedest boy.

Second where he forgets. Where his arms close around the
nakedness he's presented with and he kisses back.

Groan out, "Bobby...," against that mouth.

To which his helpful/unhelpful brain supplies, *Bob, plain
Bob in the morning, standing five-foot-six in one sock.
Rob in slacks.  Robbie at school.  Robert on the dotted
line.  In my arms, he was always Bobby.*

And Bobby giggles at him.

Giggles.

Which is enough to yank him back onto the slim, thorny path
of righteousness, despite the way Bobby's licking him.
These tiny, teasing flicks all over his mouth and Hank
grabs him and moves him *away*, thanking God for the fact
that his arms are long enough to move Bobby out of fondling
range. For the moment.

There is.

Wriggling.

Creamy-skinned, naked wriggling and yes, Bobby is certainly
already quite happy to see him and, "*Bobby*."

He stills. "Yeah?"

"We can't do this."

"Aww, c'mon, I'll finish my homework later. There's
something I wanna try." Bright, happy grin.

Is this poleaxed? This could very well be poleaxed. "No,
no, I mean, we shouldn't be having sex."

"Hey, we already covered that, Hank, move with the times!"

Move with the. Something he wants to try. Hank squeezes his
eyes shut for a moment. "Bobby, you're *fifteen*!" There he
said it. Now would be a good time to run.

"Yeah. Heh. Still growing."

Definitely, clearly, a good time to run like the very devils of
hell -- stops a moment. Checks for horns.

None visible, but.... No. "I'm serious! Prison! And! Things
of that nature!" Oh, God, he's doomed.

"I *said* I wouldn't tell..." A pout that may even be real.
He doubts it, but the possibility is there. "I thought you
liked me."

"Liked you. Liked you? Is this what you do with *all* your
friends?"

"If I can get away with it." Flurry of wriggling, but Hank
remains. Firm. Jesus. More pouting.

"Haaaaank..."

"Oh, God, you're going to whine?"

"Don't you whine when you're horny and not getting any?"

"No! I don't whine. I *never* whine."

"Never?"

"Never."

Bobby narrows his eyes. Wriggles fully out of Hank's grip
only to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Grins at
him. Shows him his small, uncallused hand.

Slowly, slowly pulls the hand back toward his own body
and... no. He wouldn't. He. Really, really would.

Wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking.
Continues to stare Hank down until his eyelids start to
droop and Hank isn't looking down.

He's not.

Just focused on those blue eyes. Shoulder flex at the
corner of his vision but he's not looking. Blue eyes
getting darker as he watches, which should be... exactly
as illegal as the past few days have been, actually.

Slide of a thumb across the head, which is enough to get a
gasp out of Bobby, but it's obviously for Hank.  Little
reminder of how that tight skin feels.  What it tastes like.

The little noises that Bobby makes when Hank rubs there.
Tiny enough that the only way to hear them is lay an ear to
his chest.

And.  Wow, he's stronger than he thinks.  Turns away.

Doesn't manage to actually *walk* away.  Not in terms of
leaving.  But he's not looking anymore.  Walks over to the
window instead.  Looks out it at the very clean, very
well-kept Westchester world they're currently living in.
In the middle of a what looks like a very exclusive school.
Just a few students, private tutoring.  Good families,
becoming tomorrow's leaders and all that.

It's usually at slightly larger schools than this one that
somebody ends up being the class whore.

It makes him flinch.  It's not true.  Not really.  There's
something very private about this version of Bobby.  It
hasn't been offered to Scott or Piotr, or at least he
doesn't think so.  And he's pretty damn sure it's not what
he gives the girls.

It's more flattering than he wants it to be.

His Bobby.

"hank..."

God, just that tiny whisper's enough to make him twist
around.  Bobby right there, with his knees apart, hand on
his cock, hand on his balls, staring at him.  The sleepiest,
most desperately wanting version of come-fuck-me that he's
ever seen.

Watches while Bobby rolls backward and lays down.
Invisible face, just bent knees and hands and cock still
visible from Hank's angle.

Just that little bit more when Bobby really deliberately
works his legs farther apart.

And words just... die. Somewhere back in his throat so that
he has to swallow.

Has to *watch*.

Bobby all laid out. No face, just those hands moving and
moving. Twisting little strokes, faster than Hank wants
them to be but he refuses to tell him to go slower.

No chance whatsoever to delude himself that he's not...
affected.

That he's not trying to drill a hole in his fucking
*pants*. Jesus, Bobby jerking off in front of him. For him.
*To* him. Scent of him making the room small, close. Like he
could open his mouth and just taste him from here.

Lean leg muscles straining and the sounds. Gasps and
whimpers letting him know that no matter how this started,
Bobby couldn't stop now if he tried. Silences that make
Hank hold his breath.

Until he's walking over. Can't even feel his legs, but
walking anyway. Has to get *closer*

Crawls up on the bed and crouches over Bobby, staring into
his face. Something... not fear, but something dark just
the same in Bobby's eyes, not lifting even when Hank joins
him.

And when did it become such a fact that Bobby should cheer
up whenever Hank chooses to grace him with his presence?
Too much to think about, already just... worried. Aching a
little inside because it's just wrong somehow to have an
upset Bobby. Strange and gorgeous and desperately arousing
that Bobby should be so obviously upset even while jerking
off.

Wonders what he sees in Hank's face.

Inhales him deeply --

"ohgod"

Leans him and sets his teeth at the base of Bobby's throat
--

"*Hank* --"

-- and bites down hard.

Wet sudden heat between them and Hank moves quickly,
swallowing Bobby's yell and then just kissing him.

Listening to him try to pant through his nose before
breaking off to let him gasp and lie there.

Wide, wide blue eyes and Bobby's barely blinking. Just
staring at Hank like.

Like he expects him to disappear in a minute.

Oh, shit.

Lots of things he could say here. Lots of things he really
*should* say, but part of him's just a little pissed off.
Heh. Which would explain what Bobby saw in his face.

God, and all he wants to do is pin him down and fuck him
hard. See his face while he does it and Hank kisses him
instead.

Long, slow.

Easy, even though he doesn't have it in him to be gentle at
the moment.

"I'm your friend, Bobby. I'm not gonna disappear."

Slow nod and Bobby holding on to him. Clinging a little and
Hank wants to move off a little bit, try to hold off a
little more of his weight, but Bobby just moves with him.

Arms around his neck.  Leg around the back of his thigh.
Which lays a lot of Bobbyflesh against him.  Soft little
mouth on his neck.  And just at the moment, Hank's fairly
sure it isn't a performance. Just Bobby hanging on.

So.  More kissing.  Little hips angled for him to thrust
against.  Once or twice that they've done this, that he's
pinned Bobby down and ridden him.  Rubbing against him
frantically, getting the feel of that cock against his own.

Little legs around his hips right before he comes.

Little legs already around his hips now, and he's thinking
that he seriously wants to be naked.

Fingers tangled in his hair, and Bobby whispers, "You could
fuck me.  You know, if you want to."

Enough to knock him back into his brain.

"Bobby..."

Bobby wiggles against him.  Gets his hips up.

Finds Hank's hand and brings it down between them. Doesn't
let go until it's touching his hole.

"God, Bobby."

He could push in.  Find something slick, throw those little
legs over his shoulders, and take him right here.  Listen to
those sounds that he's only ever made when Hank's had
a finger up him.

Pushes his mind hard back to responsible adultness and the
fact that he's supposed to stop this exactly so Bobby
*won't* whore for him.

Forces himself to move his hand after long, long moments of
just *feeling* him. How hot Bobby is there compared to the
rest of him. Rests his hand on Bobby waist and pushes him
back a bit, just enough to look him in the face.

"Bobby, I don't --"

"You want to, I know you do. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"No, I. Okay, bald honesty, fine. I want to fuck you, and I
want to do it hard --" Shudder he can feel through his palms
and his cock twitches in answer. "But I don't want to do it
until you want me to, Bobby, okay? We're friends, right?"

"Yeah..."

"And I'd still want to be your friend even if you told me
that the sex had to end." Staring into those blue, blue
eyes and it's that one particular feeling. When you've said
what you've *had* to say and it still feels like you're
approaching a cliff and a dead run, or maybe already run
right off the fucking thing.  "Hey, no one else will even
touch the Playstation, and that's just wrong."

Little smile. "'kay."

Opens his arms and Bobby snuggles up, right on cue.

"I still get the sex, right?"

"Bobby --"

"The hot, raunchy, sweaty sex?"

"*Bobby* --"

Loud snickering against his neck. Hot breath just reminding
him that he's still hard, and wanting Bobby, and clearly
he's being subjected to a diabolic experiment in operant
conditioning.

Childish laughter? Erection.

He can never walk past a playground again.

People are going to start clutching their children to them
when he passes.  Or, well, they already do that, but
still.  Hard to explain that it's just Bobby.  Soft little
body against his.  Little foot rubbing the back of his leg.

Mouth on his throat, licking and kissing.

And, "Shhh.  I won't leave you, it's okay."  Rubbing the
flesh that's offered to him.

Push on his chest that drives his heart right down.  Feels
way too much like rejection, right until Bobby clambers on
top of him and grins down.  Gets those little hands down
between them and starts working on getting Hank's pants off.

He has to grind his teeth not to howl when Bobby's hand
slips inside and grips him.  Jerks up and down once before
even pulling him out, rides the twist of his hips with a
little laugh.

Working his pants down.  Off.  Once they're around his
knees he can more or less kick them away.  Still left in
his shirt and socks and there's something grossly
undignified about it, but it's hard to argue with both of
Bobby's hands wrapped around his cock.

Rub of a soft thigh against him.  Blue, blue eyes when he
looks.

Bobby's mouth stretched over his cockhead.

He's too hard for this.  Wants to touch and can't reach and
he's not going to have a choice in a second if Bobby keeps
doing that.  All of the willpower he has to lift him off.

"Turn around."

"mmmm?"

"Turn around.  Lay on your stomach for me?"  Moan that he
can't swallow when Bobby rubs a hand over the still-wet end
of him.

But he does it.  Rolls onto his belly with his head towards
Hank's feet, and actually manages to stay there for a minute
before he's staring over his shoulders.

If he's going to do this -- god he's hard this isn't the
time but he *wants* to.  Kisses Bobby's back.  Both sides,
down the spine.  The cheeks of that little ass being
offered to him, hard enough to leave mouth-shaped
bruises.  Spreads the insides of Bobby's thighs and kisses
him there, too.

Spreads them farther and gets his first real look at what
Bobby's offered him.

Little, little hole.

Amazing that he's gotten a finger in there. Wants to do it
again. Wants to just... *touch* Bobby.

All over.

And he does, running his hands over coolish skin, warming
Bobby while he pushes up against Hank's hands. Understands
on some level the need to soothe him, soothe them both.
Takes things down a notch before.

Well, what he wants to do.

Not something he's even considered, really, after figuring
that it would feel very, very good, but Bobby...

Yes, he wants to make Bobby moan, and gasp, and all those
other little wonderful sounds. Wants to *pleasure* him, to
get down deep into his permanent memories as someone
associated with making him come screaming.

But he also just *wants*.

Warm, quasi-sweet smelling boy. Downy soft skin and lean,
hard muscle beneath. Spreads Bobby wide and kisses him
there.

Softly at first, riding out the little bucks, the little
things that don't sound enough like 'no' to make him stop.
Then slips his tongue out, only meaning to lick him there a
little, at first, but he slips right in and Bobby...

Oh, Bobby sounds wonderful.

Long, low, hoarse cry that just breaks something inside
Hank, trailing to whimpering gasps when he grabs Bobby's
hips and tongues him very, very seriously.

Spelling out the names of complex chemical compounds when
inspiration fails him, or just thrusting and thrusting,
long after his tongue is feeling numb and Bobby's hips are
slick beneath his palms.

Wants to fuck him, wants to be just so *deep* inside Bobby.

*Wants* to.

Tongues him furiously for long, long moments, trying to
pour out some of the need, but Bobby is starting to sound
desperate and it's hazing out Hank's mind.

Finally just needing to *growl* with it, pull back and bite
one round cheek hard enough to make Bobby yelp.

Flip him over just to see how flushed he is, how hard. God,
beautiful, beautiful Bobby and Hank knows full well he's
addicted. Wanting so badly and having it right *there*.

Offering, inviting seduction every time he turns around.

"oh ohh Hank that felt so good..."

Flips him over again and Bobby's reading his mind, or
Bobby's just being Bobby because he gets right up on his
knees. Pushes back toward him.

"You can, you can, I want you to Hank oh fuck I'm so *hard*
--"

Shucks his own shirt, if only so he can feel Bobby against
his chest, and bends over him.  Big enough to actually
cover him, knees behind Bobby's, arms over his shoulders.
And it won't quite work that way, but just the contact
makes Bobby gasp.

Kisses him once on the back of the neck, then drops into a
lower crouch.  Brings his cock up between Bobby's very
slick thighs and lets it slide over the soft little balls
hanging down, and then up beside Bobby's erection.

"haaaaaaaaaaaaaank..."

Kisses his back.

"oh god you're big."

Kisses him again.  Pulls back just a bit and settles his
cock between sweat- and spit-slick thighs and spreads his
own knees.  Gets his hands on the outside of Bobby's legs
and pushes in.

"Hank?"

"Put them together."

Takes a minute to convince him, but he does it.  Puts his
thighs together, trapping Hank between them.  Squeezing
them together once he gets the idea.

"Can you hold them there?"

"Yeah."

So.  Pulls himself back and thrusts.  Fuck yes.  So good.
Tight and slick and Bobby-smelling, little gasp of pleasure
from Bobby as it rubs him, and this wasn't actually *for*
him, but anything that makes Bobby happy is hard to argue
with.  Thrusts again, feels Bobby's legs tense and tighten
around him, god so tight and nothing like as tight as
Bobby's ass is going to be, but easier on both of them
today, when he's strung-out and desperate and just wants to
fuck *hard*.

Hard into him, hands clamped on Bobby's hips, big enough to
almost cover them and holding him still.  *Slamming* into
him, hard enough to make himself growl.  Hard enough to
make Bobby whimper, tense, hump back against him.

Whispers of, "god Hank want you to fuck me like this you're
gonna fuck me aren't you?  put it in me and take me just
like this god you're so *big* you felt so good with your
tongue in me wanna give you everything."

"Oh, *God* --"

Changing his angle just enough to fuck up against Bobby's
cock on most strokes. Knows it's not good enough but he has
to *come*. Has to fuck has to, trying not to leave
fingerprint bruises, trying not to hurt him, and Bobby so
*wild* beneath him.

Somehow keeping those thighs so sweet and tight for him
while bucking and shifting for position, speaking words
Hank's mind just reels at, gasping and pleading and --

"*Bobby* --"

-- coming in hard little spurts, hips jerking almost
spasmodically and holding on tight.

Finally peeling his hands off Bobby so he can brace
himself, so he can avoid crushing the poor kid --

"oh oh you came on me, Hank, you came all over my *cock*!"

Like it's the most amazing thing in the world, like Hank
could've done any differently. "Roll over, Bobby."

"yeah yes anything oh please touch me --"

Wraps his fist around Bobby's slick and wonderfully messy
cock and pumps fast, ruthless. Bobby's hands on his, not
guiding him so much as riding the rhythm, fingers twitching
and Bobby's eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is wide,
wide open, and he comes just like that, moaning something
that might be Hank's name.

Finally just laying there, tangled in each other. Too wiped
to move into a more comfortable position. Bobby curled a
little away from him and gasping.

Telling Hank how good it was, how good it made him feel.
Almost babbling it out, like it's something he desperately
needs to make Hank understand, and...

Something like clarity, at least a moment of it.

Bobby needs him.

It feels.

Terrifying and good. Terrifyingly good.

Makes him feel stronger, somehow. Older and tougher, and,
okay, maybe that much sexier. Never gonna get the sound of
Bobby begging Hank to fuck him out of his head.

Beautiful boy.

God, yes.

Wraps his arms around him and pulls him close.
 
 

End

We're wicked girls.  Tell us so.