Disclaimers: If they were ours, Ric would look his age, and 'Star...
well, 'Star would probably be just as screwed up. And gay.

Spoilers: None, really. Continuity-wise; if you squinted, you could fit
this after they both split X-Force. The original X-Force, that is.

Summary: 'Star needs. That's novel enough to keep Rictor still.

Ratings Note: NC-17 for porn, porn, porn.

Authors' Notes: Heh. Forgot we had this one for a while, lost it for a
while longer. Te thought it was time we inflicted it on the world. Jane
did not stop Te.

Acknowledgments: To our libidos, without whom we would be nothing
today.

Feedback keeps us quiescent. janestclair15@hotmail.com,
teland793@sbcglobal.net

*

Te: Thought: There must be a story in which 'Star performs for Ric.

Jane: There should. Tell me about it?

Te: Well, it was all dramatically stormy last night, achingly hot and
raining in great sheets. So I pictured them in that adobe hotel that I
always pictured them in for your stuff. 'Star's been on the floor,
watching Spanish soaps, Ric on the bed, staring up at the ceiling,
trying and failing to think clearly about any one thing, when 'Star
gets up and turns off the television, turns, catches Ric's eye, and
says "I need to do something for you, Julio..."

Jane: Yes! Tell me more!

Te: And Ric starts to say he doesn't need anything, but stops
because he finally really *hears* what 'Star said. He needs. Which
is... it wakes something that's been dozing fitfully within him.
*'Star*. *Needing* something.

So he just nods and sits up, waiting.

And 'Star starts taking off his clothes. All of them. Sets the sword
harness aside, peels off the thin t-shirt that had been plastered to
his chest. Not pulls off, not peels just because it was so wet with
the sweat that's pretty much guaranteed that Ric's always gonna
know Shatty's scent, *peeled*.

Exactly like some ripe fruit in an art movie, vivid and impossibly
sensual.

The curl of 'Star's fingers, the almost-absent look in his eyes, and Ric
knows, he *knows* what 'Star is doing, what 'Star is about to do,
and he could stop this if he wanted to, and he does want to, even
though that's a lie, because it needs to stay true --

'Star tugs the tie out of his hair, and all that red-gold hair falls over
his shoulders and chest, humidity curling it at the ends. Damp and
heavy and *hot* looking and Ric has the sudden image of his hands
slipping beneath the weight of all that hair and just.

Lifting it.

He wants to see the relief of it on 'Star's face. Ric shakes it off and
tries to focus, tries to think of something, *anything* he could
possibly say here that would make sense. He doesn't have much faith
in his ability to make an actual difference. There's nothing in his head
but variations on the other man's name, though, and 'Star...

He has just the faintest sunburn on his legs. Pale skin and a lot of
freckles. One of the few true redheads that Ric's met, and the
only one who doesn't hide from the sun. There's something that
could almost be a tan line on his belly, obvious when he holds
the cut-offs open and hooks his thumb in his underwear.

Moment of an obvious, utterly unselfconscious pose before he
slides the whole thing off and kicks it away, stands naked and
white-red in front of Ric and waits to be acknowledged.

"Shatty--"

Which is apparently all he needed to say. Shatterstar nods to him
softly, then pads across the room to the big, sprung old armchair
in the corner. Faintly dusty and not matching anything else, but
startlingly dark against the paleness of Star's body.

He slides down into it. Hooks a knee almost absently over one
arm and rests a hand on his belly and stares at Rictor. Almost smiles.

"Julio." And 'Star's reaching a hand toward him, showing it to him. Palm
and knuckle and fingertip.

And then he sucks two fingers into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering
with pure... Something like pure *heat*, like 'Star and sex had
suddenly decided to become one thing and Ric hadn't had any warning
at all. (And that's not true, either)

Ric swallows, blinks as fast as he can, feeling like a kid with his eye
to a keyhole, like at any moment someone In Authority will grab him
by the scruff of the neck and yank him away from... this.

More wrong there than he wants to deal with, than maybe he *can*,
but...

They're away from all of it now, aren't they?

And 'Star (needs this) wants to show him what he can do.

'Star running shiny-wet fingers down from his knee. In along his
thigh, against the muscle's line, and then up across his belly. Dipping
one fingertip into his navel in a slow, obvious... fuck.

Ric swallows, hisses in a breath as 'Star brings the hand up and
catches a nipple between his fingertips, rolling it slowly into a hard
point. Little twists in his body showing whenever it feels good.

Cock so utterly naked and blood-dark against his belly. That same
ice-pale skin. Whispered, "Julio."

'Star shows him the hand again. Palm out, fingers spread. Not
quite reaching.

Brings it up again and lays it against the base of his throat. Rubs
up and down, very deliberately. Stops with the thumb touching that
prominently vulnerable point. And squeezes.

Ric's spine snaps him upright before his muscles can follow, and it's
all he can do not to go flying over there and rip Star's hand away.
Holds off only because Star's watching him and trembling and so
obviously aroused.

And in spite of the lack of air, he's got two fingers of the other hand
in his mouth. Sucking them, obviously, making a show of it.

Eases up the thumb on his windpipe eventually to give those two
digits his full attention. Pulls them out soaked and slick and shows
them to Julio. Traces them through the air along his whole body,
down between his legs.

Pauses just at his scrotum and whispers Rictor's name again. And
reaches down and pushes them inside himself.

Long arch of his back and this twisted *moan* that tears out of him.
Two fingers deep inside, fucking himself with them, still not touching
his cock. The other's hand's away from his throat, finally, down on
his chest twisting each nipple in turn.

He twists every time, *every* time, like it's better than he can believe.

Rictor leans forward. Gets his own jeans open and whispers, "Shatty,"
while he wraps his hand around his own cock. Gets rewarded when
Shatty looks up at the name, half-smiles, and lifts the other leg up. Both
of them hooked over the chair's arms, now, so wide apart that Ric could
step in and fuck him and he wouldn't be able to resist.

Step in and... ay, Dios, his cock feels like a weapon in his fist, hard and
hot and even knowing how fast he's going to come if he keeps it up
like this isn't satisfying at *all*. Not with 'Star over there. All the way
over there with those fingers still in him.

Making a show of it. Obvious stretching, making it clear not only that
it feels good, but that it's empty every time he spreads his fingers
apart, and that Rictor should come take him.

He doesn't. Strokes himself instead, watches Star gasp and shudder
and whimper softly, only in the last seconds take his cock in hand
and bring himself off, still with the two fingers fucking himself. Long,
tangled arch of his body as he comes.

The sight is impossible to take in one look, not with how lost he is to
his own ratcheting arousal. Red-gold hair seemingly everywhere, dark
with sweat at 'Star's temples. Flash. 'Star's mouth, open on a near-silent
cry. Flash and the judder of his cock in his fist and 'Star's hands are
bigger than his own --

Flash. Those fingers. So fucking deep and he wants this.

Flash. Splatter of come on 'Star's chest and --

'Star's eyes open again, fixed on him. Steady. So fucking --

"'Star --"

Comes hard, shaking. Almost shivering. Squeezing his eyes shut so
much too late that, eventually, he can feel how ridiculous it is. Open
them again.

Wipe his sticky hand on the bedspread they've never used anyway
and laugh a little. 'Star is watching him curiously, and doesn't close
his own eyes even when Ric can finally go to him.

Even when Ric kisses him once, again. Ric watches 'Star right back
until he starts to wonder which one of them is the sorta-alien
body-switcher and laughs a little more. "Did that feel as good as it
looked?" Star shakes his head, softly. "Then why do it?"

"For you." He reaches out one unsteady hand and strokes along Ric's
cock where it presses out of his fly.

Ric leans in, kisses him hard. Holds his head tilted back and just
*takes* his mouth. "Thank you." Kisses him again. Wonders about
mating rituals on Mojoworld until hysteria threatens to bubble up
and ruin the moment.

Touches the hole. It's still open, still slick, and his touch makes Star
shudder gently under him. "I want to see you do that again."

"I don't know if I can. Julio, *fuck* me."

Just a second while he considers. "I want to *see* you."

He follows Star's eyes to the mess of their luggage lying on the
floor. One long-handled hairbrush laying on top of the suitcase.
And a smile that almost matches his. One more long kiss and a soft
command, "Get on the bed. Belly down," and he goes to get it.

He crouches by the suitcase and picks up the brush. The
handle's not impossibly long, not even quite as long as he is, but
the shape's irregular, and it's *hard*. Ungiving in a way that flesh
just isn't. Very smooth at the handle's end. On the bed, Shatterstar
watches him fiercely.

And Ric joins him. Kneels behind him and kisses the small of his
back, then bends and spits gently onto the hole. Wet and slick and
he knows he's going to need lube for this, but he wants it to be just
him, first. Two fingers in, stroking the soft flesh there, *reaching*
for 'Star's prostate.

And Star's recovering. Slowly, but openly wanting, pushing his hips
back. Repeating *fuck me* in all the languages they know.

There's slick under the bed, where he left it after the last time 'Star
left him alone enough that he could jerk off. Not that it had made a
difference. Not that he'd been fooling anyone at that point --

Jesus, and 'Star feels so *good* around him. Tight and *hot* on his
fingers, alive like nothing else in this desert. Ric throws his leg over
'Star's and wishes he'd thought to be naked for this, wishes he could
stay just like this, buried in him, so far away from rational thought
that it has no chance of touching him ever again.

Leans overs and breathes on the back of 'Star's neck, licks at the shiver
in the skin. "Is it what you wanted, amigo querido?"

'Star *growls* at him, bucks hard. "*Deseo* --"

Has to kiss him again, bite and whisper every promise he can think of
all the way down the smoothly muscled expanse of back. Has to force
himself not to think of everything he apparently has permission for,
because he *wants* this.

First.

And he doesn't want to know the why of that, either.

Ric grabs the brush with a shaky hand, bristles tickle-scracthing
his palm as he slicks the stiff, cool handle. Not him. But he wants
to see...

Pushes it in slow. Wide, rounded end that stretches 'Star open,
then narrower, thicker in the other dimension. He can hear it the
second he hits the right place inside. Holds the brush there for a
minute and rubs *hard* against it. Hears 'Star *scream* into the
pillow and twist and beg and push back.

Lets it go, finally, and pushes all the way in. Watches the
strangeness of the shape register on 'Star, traces the hole while
he waits for 'Star to settle into this. Makes him *ask* to be fucked.

And only then does. Short strokes, careful of the bristles and it
isn't easy to hold, but Star's going *nuts* from it. Loves it. Moans
for him and reaches back and strokes Ric's thigh. Asks desperately
in Cadre and gets it, one more fingertip pushing in, *stretching* him
open and going in just far enough to make him really feel it. Moving
the handle from *inside*.

Finally, he's just sobbing. Loves this, wants this, and Ric's so *hard*
from watching him. He can feel his own ass ache/want in sympathy,
wants to touch his cock and hasn't got a hand for it. Fucks Star
steadily and surely over the edge, pushing against his prostate and
massaging him every way he can think of, making him rub his cock
on the bed for the extra stimulation he needs. And right at the end
pulls the handle out and drives three fingers in in place of it, stretches
and holds and fucks Star until he's screaming, utterly gone and
wanting and coming and shaking under Ric's hands.

Ric can't even breathe. Doesn't want to move, doesn't want to think,
doesn't want to take his fingers out of their slick, tight haven, and
'Star is just lying there.

Pliant and *still* with something other than predatory almost-violence
for once, and something about the way he's stretched out on the
bed, something about the deep, uneven breaths just makes Ric ache
in strange places. The insides of his arms and thighs. His jaw.

Like it will hurt to move, to touch 'Star more, but it's also the only
thing that'll make it better.

Only he's hard as a rock, and it would be so easy to just *ram* in
and fuck himself out in 'Star's body, and 'Star would love it, wants
it, wants Ric's pleasure for himself and Ric *gets* that, it's just.

He aches.

Listens to the rush of his own blood in his ears and wants nothing,
*nothing* more to lie right where 'Star is now, grind himself and
slick himself in 'Star's come and spread wide open and feel what 'Star
felt.

The brush off to the side and he knows it's still warm. From what
he did and he wants it. Deep as it'll go and hard and so much less
forgiving than 'Star could ever be, and he doesn't want to feel
anything but the brush, and the bristles against his cheeks, and
'Star's strong, strong hands grinding and grinding him into the
mattress.

'Star holding him down and making him take it, making him writhe
and scream and *pay* for this, and ay chingame, chingame, 'Star
please look at me and *see* this.

Just crouches there, waiting for him to turn. Raw when he does.
Wanting and not being able to ask and fucking *amazed* that 'Star
had the courage to ask for what he wanted. Feels a tentative,
shaky hand rubbing his thigh and wants to clamp it around his
balls.

Instead just takes off his shirt and holds it against his chest. Maybe
because it's not the same if he has to *ask* for it. Wants 'Star to
just. Know.

Slick thumb on the head of his cock, rubbing him. 'Star's come
mixing with his own pre-come, gentle and demanding and such
a *tease* all in that one spot.

He can do this, at least. Catches 'Star's wrist with one hand and
pushes it *down*, uses his other hand to push his jeans down so
they can reach, touch him behind his balls, push that thumb against
his own ass. Silently demanded, *fuck me*.

And Star nods. Visibly pulls himself together and rolls to his knees and
strips Rictor's jeans off. Pushes *hard* with the slicked thumb, holding
Ric's shoulder to steady him. Gets it in and keeps pushing, deep into
him, holding him open and using every other finger to rub his balls and
perineum.

Kisses him. "On your belly, Julio. Lie down for me."

In the same, still-warm place, slick at his groin. 'Star spreads his
legs with both hands, far enough apart that it burns faintly. And
slicks him. On his hole and shallowly in it. The thumb or a single
finger. Refusing to stretch him. Ric can hear the cursory/careful
sounds of 'Star wiping down, then re-slicking the brush handle and
shivers.

Again at the cool feel of it rubbing against his hole for long moments,
teasing at the opening and giving him a sense of exactly how wide
that first part is.

And pushes it in with his thumb alongside, making it *wide* and
*thick* and *stretching* him as desperately as anything ever has in
his life. 'Star's hands are *huge*. And the thumb stays in, slides
along the shaft as it pushes farther in. Forces acknowledgement from
him.

"'Star --"

A kiss where Ric's back and ass meet. Whispers, "Are you ready,
Julio?"

"Fffffuck."

Laughter. And then 'Star twists his thumb and rubs the brush
handle down forward against his prostate.

Fuck. Fuck. It's *hard*, harder than any human flesh, harder than
fingers or cock or tongue, impossible to ignore and pushing
insistently at his cock from inside. The sensation wraps around the
stretch at his hole, rips important parts of his brain out and leaves
him a moaning, twisting wreck.

And Star fucks him. Slowly at first, careful of the newness of this
and the hardness in him, and slowed by the thumb holding him
open. Then withdraws it, rolls Ric's balls in his hand instead, and
*fucks* him. Fast and ruthless and *deep*, deeper than he would
have thought it could go, bristles scraping at his skin at the deepest
points.

He howls when Star changes the angle. Tugs the handle *up* and
fucks him almost vertically.

And Ric is scrambling, trying to get up on his knees, close his
legs, run away, something, but 'Star, Dios, 'Star has one big hand
at the base of his spine and is. Holding him down.

*Pushing* him down and he can't see 'Star's face and he has no
idea what he could look like. What he would look like with this...
this *forcing* that's *exactly* what Ric needs. Steady, *ruthless*
fuck, so damned unforgiving --

"*'Star* --"

"Julio, *yes*..."

Crying out now and there are tears at the corners of his eyes and
he's so close to sobbing and he's so *helpless* and so fucking
afraid because 'Star *has* him and he's never ever letting go.

Some kind of shift behind him, and he feels Star's leg between his.
Feels the thigh catch the brush and brace it, shift it by moving,
holding it up there so it can't move off the sweet place inside him.
Suddenly *both* hands on him. One reaching under for his cock, so
that he has to lift his ass a bit, one reaching under to torture his
nipples. Rough and loving and intense on a level he hasn't believed
in until now.

Like if he begged 'Star to stop now, right now, he maybe wouldn't.
Just wouldn't be able to, and he'd keep touching and stroking and
pinching and pulling and *working* Ric, making him make these
sounds that are killing him.

It brings him off suddenly, in this blast of pleasure he doesn't feel
coming. From his nipples to his ass and then out to his cock.
Screaming from the shock of it as much as anything, and trying to
muffle it before someone kicks the door down to see who's being
murdered. Just *collapses* at the end of it, all the strength gone
from his body. Feels 'Star kiss him, pull the brush out carefully, and
then lay down beside him.

Half on top of him. Kissing the side of his face and whispering how
beautiful Ric is and how much he loves him.

Just one more agonizingly painless explosion in a brain that can't
possibly handle many more.

'Star strokes him until he feels something like human again. And
stays close after that, just rolls over so that Ric can climb on top of
him.

Still daylight outside, which he almost can't believe. All the linear
patterns are stripped out of his brain, and he's stuck on the warmth
in his body and the low-grade ache and the taste of his... lover's
mouth.

Ric curls in closer, tangles their legs and hums something too close
to a purr for complete comfort while 'Star rubs his back. This is one
of those things he should be afraid of, being stripped down this far,
but he can't quite remember how to be.

Like he left that ability on his bed in San Francisco. It would have
been impossible to stay with X-Force and have this. Not just because
of the others watching them; he wouldn't be able to walk around
without armor, and he *needs* not to have it.

At least for now.

He's not afraid. He's not. Even if he feels as stripped right now
as he did when they hauled him out of the Right's machine, when
he could barely keep from screaming. Even if he's sure he's going
to crack open, or just crack the world.

'Star kisses him. Cradles his head on his shoulder. And doesn't ask
for anything.

End.