Disclaimers: If they belonged to us, Sam wouldn't sound *quite* so
much like Scarlett O'Hara. Though he might occasionally do kicky
things with curtains.

Fandom: X-Force.

Pairing: Cable/Cannonball

Ratings Note: Guess. Go on, just guess. NC-17.

Summary: In which Sam wants to be where someone loves him
best of all.

Authors' notes: Title and summary, yet again, from Maurice
Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are."  Jane shamelessly
strong armed Te into this one, but she makes no apologies.

Feedback: Makes us glitter and glow and preen.
mailto:janestclair15@hotmail.com,teland793@sbcglobal.net

*

Jane: Of course, my thought processes are *still* running along
lines of 'I wanna go molest Sam some more, dammit!'.  But it's
entertaining, and makes me smile strangely in meetings.

Te: *cackling* It's that bubble butt, isn't it?

Jane: It is.  But also the accent and the curly hair and the long,
long legs.

Te: Long legs can make a girl Think Thoughts, it's true.
Mmmmm...

Jane: Especially legs that are actually long enough to wrap around
a body the size of Nathan's.  I actually like Nathan/Domino, but
she's so *dwarfed* beside him.

Sam, though.  Sam can kneel in Nathan's lap and reach to kiss him
and just fold up those legs under him.

Te: Oh, he can, he *can*, and Nathan likes the feel of him there,
body to body.  Vague guilt about cold metal against the boy's skin,
but in truth Sam seems to take it in stride, even with this new...
intimacy.

When he realized it was going to be more than just the single night
between them, he had to offer his body up to Sam's scrutiny.  Let
him look closely at what he was getting, though he's seen it before,
and already knows far too many of its aging and sometimes aching
secrets.

Gentle and oddly comfortable like this now, early afternoon light
pooling around them and their shirts thrown over the bedroom chair.
On the bed with their pants still on and their boots kicked off beside
it, not even kissing.  And Nathan's barely even touching.  Just
letting Sam explore him.  And even now that Sam's crawled into his
lap, it's still Sam's show.  His fingers that crawl over Nathan's body
and stroke, rough edges tracing the curve of metal and flesh.

Strange minutes when Sam looks at him, blue eye to blue eye, and
Nathan gets the sense that he's looking for the boy Nathan was
when he was Sam's age.  He considers telling Sam that he wouldn't
like him.  The boy Sam's looking for was angry and rough-edged
and almost unbearably awkward, crawling out of adolescence with
all the grace of a fish in the desert.

Sam squirms in his lap.  The legs on either side of him pull in a
little, gripping, and he's fully aware that he's being teased.  He
knows he's hard and Sam knows he's hard, and Sam's own body
isn't keeping any secrets at this angle.

So. A tease for them both. Some kind of oddly welcome test,
perhaps. Of desire, of control... Nathan ups the ante a little, shifting
until they're cock to cock through their clothes, watching Sam bite
his lip... but he doesn't break the stare, either. Moving now, Sam
with better leverage but Nathan has the strength to use his own
position, pushing and moving.

Slow and ruthless. Less to himself than Sam, moving his hips to
make sure Sam can't quite thrust against the best spots, as Sam is
doing the same.  Strategy is called for, and Nathan lets himself sink
closer to a meditative state, focusing on the boy's eyes. Wide blue,
pupils starting to blow.  Keeping his thoughts away from the fact
that *he's* the one causing the obvious arousal, that all he needs to
do is lose the unspoken bet to make the boy... scream.

And they haven't gotten around to facing that yet, not even close.
Nate's bike was missing by the time they got back from their swim,
his room emptied of everything that wasn't there when he arrived.

Relief there, and more than a little guilt. Dubious refuge to know
that he wasn't the one Nate had needed to talk to, anyway.

Soft gasp from Sam pulling him back into the now. Humor in his
eyes and the sweet twist of his mouth. The gasp was half-meant,
half-calculated.  Sam opens his mouth while Nathan watches,
showing the edges of even white teeth, hallucinatory flash of a
pink tongue.

Amateurish, but effective, and Nathan responds in kind. Narrowing
his eyes and shifting his thrust to something a little harder on both
of them, mouth held in a firm, hard line.

Sam's moan is heartfelt this time.

Nathan leans back enough that when Sam follows him, keeping the
chest contact, his hips are closer to Nathan's waist.  So that Nathan's
next very deliberate thrust rubs against the soft curve of his balls
inside his shorts and just teases at Sam's new awareness of his ass.
The boy trembles against him but keeps steady.  Strokes Nathan's
shoulder lightly, as if he were still exploring, and curls rough fingers
around the back of his neck.

Nathan's impressed.  There's just an edge of threat in the gesture,
not pursued, but Sam's made him aware that he's vulnerable.

The kiss that follows is almost brutally intense.  Sam crushes their
lips together, holds Nathan's head to keep him close and pulls him
in.  Pulls him upright so that Sam slides back down to Nathan's lap
and they're cock to cock, tight and hard and pressing.

Nathan takes over, eventually.  Cradles Sam's head and tilts it and
dives in, changing the power balance without breaking the kiss off.
Making it clear that whatever he's learned, he can do this well enough
to make Sam tremble.  And he does.  Shakes and grips and finally lifts
up just a little and thrusts urgently and repeatedly against Nathan's
body.  Nothing in that gesture but youth and desperation, and a
little surrender.  Openly wanting.

He isn't quite ready to let this end, though.  The kiss is his
territory, but he's holding his own body steady.  While Sam slowly
gives up any pretense at indifference and *pushes* against him,
begging.

Finds Sam's hand with one of his and brings both to the front of
Sam's shorts.  Wonderful tan of the khaki against the gold of Sam's
skin, and part of Nathan would love to be naked under him,  feel the
difference between cloth and skin on the legs folded against his
hips.  Just holds Sam there, though, while Sam tries not to thrust
too obviously into his own palm.

He cues Sam's fingers to unzip the shorts, eventually, and helps Sam
peel them back.  Startling slide of a wet cock on his belly, after, as
Sam presses closer against him.  Not even thrusting, just rubbing
back and forth and getting a feel for the difference between flesh
and techno-organics on the thin skin.

It's Sam who breaks the kiss off.  He pushes his face past Nathan's
and rubs a barely-stubbled cheek against Nathan's jaw.  And holds
there, kissing up along the hairline, while Nathan slides his hands
down Sam's naked back and into the shorts now hanging loose
where hip and wide-spread leg offer a catching angle.  Cups the
boy's ass for a minute and massages.  Holds him still the next time
he goes to thrust.

Catches a leg once Sam's steady and lifts a little.  Helps him get
loose from the too-big shorts, then slides them off the other leg and
holds Sam while he settles again.  Bright, fine hairs make soft hisses
when they rub against Nathan's jeans.  Sam's naked and rubbing
insistently now, leaving cool, wet trails across Nathan's abdomen,
kissing back towards his mouth.

Nathan accepts the kiss when it comes, even opens his mouth to it.
Half-lost in the slide of Sam against him, the gentleness of this
foreplay almost too much.

Completely lost to it, he supposes, because when Sam breaks their
mouths apart next time, he pulls back far enough to hiss, "Damn it,
Nathan.  You want me or not?"

As though it were really a question, and he's aware that he has self-
control in all the wrong areas but he forgets sometimes how
obvious it is.

He curls his fingers around Sam's ass and pulls, spreading him.
Pushes Sam down at the same time that his own hips thrust up, so
that they meet with Nathan's still-clothed cock pressing against the
boy's anus.  Wide blue eyes that almost vanish under the pupil's
black for a moment, then flare back into colour when Nathan
whispers, "Yes," against Sam's mouth and bends him back and
kisses him as deep and hard as he can.

Something to remember here, a lesson in how to be human in this
now. Sam, here, like this, is not a subordinate to be worked and
dominated, no matter how much the thought appeals. No matter
how *instinctive* the motions and gestures are.

Sam is his lover now, the young man desperate enough to strip
naked and straddle his thighs, grind and thrust and demand
Nathan's attention with everything he has. Nathan teases out a
connection, impulsively, and lets Sam see *everything* he's thinking
about this, every doubt and yes, his own helplessness to the body
bent and straining in his arms.

Wide blue eyes and the impression of innocence that Sam doesn't
bother to scoff at. Only trust, and pure, blazing need.

Supporting him now in this arch as Nathan buries his face in Sam's
throat and mauls him, leaving marks to bruise and scream at the
dinner table tonight, invite and silence questions at once.

Awkward angle and Sam slips a little, throws his arms back and
supports his upper body on his palms, legs still locked around
Nathan and it's *obscene*.  The position, Nathan's reaction, the
taking of pitiless advantage...

"Ahh -- God! *Nathan*..."

At the tight coins of his nipples, pink-brown and spiked for him, for
lips and tongue and teeth as Nathan wraps one arm around the boy's
upper back and helps support the position, free hand tugging at the
burnt golden hair at Sam's groin, palming and stroking his balls
roughly.

Blunt nails scraping at the inside of Sam's thigh, up the arch of
Sam's cock as he mouths the boy's chest and sends I *want* you, I
*want* you again and again, waiting for the internal oaths and
imprecations to degenerate to that broken keening sound he needs,
somewhere deep where Nathan doesn't want to look.

Only then does he lift Sam back to his lap, awkwardly undoing his
jeans and freeing himself for this. Shoves three fingers into the
boy's open mouth --

"Get 'em wet."

Sam's stretched mouth and fluttering lashes, eyes starting to roll
back in his head, limbs loose and pliant in his arms *yes*. Spit and
sweat and pre-come, cursory preparation. Lifts Sam up and *spits*
him on his cock, pull and thrust at once, *that* scream, *that* one,
and Nathan wraps the boy in a bear hug, trapping his cock between
them as they fuck.

Just like that, off the side of the bed and graceless, grace only in
the way Sam shapes his hands to Nathan's face and forces him to
meet his gaze, half-blind and dazed, but *intent*, screwing himself
down on Nathan, ruthless with them both.

Tight and hot and too much friction, not enough, Nathan growling
as he takes the boy's mouth with the same violence, slick cock
between them pressing and pressing at his belly, wetting the hair
there and making it all stick and move, body lost to this. Hands on
Sam's hips driving him faster, harder, so fucking *deep* and sharing
it all, this savagery, this unmeant and incredible claiming.

Fingers slipping over to tease at where they join, press and rub at
the cleft, at the tight hole Nathan wants to stretch out of all
proportion until he throws them back further on the bed, painful
grunt, but Sam's sobbing moans don't pause so much as hitch.
They're *connected* now and Nathan realizes Sam *can't* loose
himself without using his power, that the boy *knows* this and
surrenders anyway.

Straddled above him, curls lank and sweaty, hiding his face as
Nathan *fucks* him.

Frees one hand to curl around that beautiful cock, stripping pulls
and rough squeezes, something like what Nathan's getting from
the boy's ass, *taking* from the boy. Screaming whimper about
control and consequences but none of it matters. He *needs* this.

Needs the boy to know this about him and come for him anyway.

And he does, clenching hard and ragged around Nathan, milking
out Nathan's orgasm with a ragged yell.

Sam doesn't slide off him immediately.  Hard, slim body heaving
against him, pushing closer and wrapping both arms around
Nathan's neck and holding on.  Nuzzling his ear and jaw.

This time Nathan's the one shaking.  He didn't expect.  Hadn't
realized how completely wrung out he's let himself get, physically
and emotionally, but he's walked out of wars in better shape than
this.  Holds Sam against him and tries to pull himself in from this
rawness to something the boy might possibly recognize as him.

Sam shifts his arms back and draws Nathan's head around to his.
Kisses him, slow and deep and more startlingly adult than he's
used to Sam being.  The blue in his eyes reasserting itself serious
and vivid.

"Hey."  Just that, but Sam's mind is warm and welcoming against his
shields.  It opens when Nathan brushes against its surface.  The gold,
steadiness of Sam inside.  Warm and intensely loving and something
underneath the innocence that suggests that Sam might still be a good
person when he's been in the field another decade.  Lingering guilt
for Nate Grey that he hasn't dealt with yet but knows he needs to.

Sam pulls back and kisses him.  Separateness of their consciousnesses
startling for a moment before Nathan can pull himself together and
kiss back.  In his lap, Sam's still impaled on him, squirming slightly
as Nathan softens.

Nathan thinks about dragging the boy into the shower with him.  All
jokes about rusting aside, he's never gotten over the luxury of
bathing in fresh water.  The desert of his childhood hugely distant
from the lush, aquatic world of Sam's.  They've already been
swimming, but the lake was huge and Sam swims like a long-bodied
water animal, fast and distant.  The idea of the boy pressed against
him in a contained space of water and steam . . .

He flinches and pulls himself together and finds Sam sucking at the
base of his throat, carefully attentive to the flesh and blood-vessels
and the shape of the mark he's leaving.  Doesn't release and only
moans softly when Nathan pulls out of him, and bucks softly at the
stroke of Nathan's fingers that replaces his cock.

A little push of Sam's knees tells him he's supposed to lie back, and
he does.  Lets Sam crawl all over him, licking and kissing, a little
careful of his movements but still bucking his hips any time Nathan
strokes over his asshole or fondles him.  Wonderful intimacy of it,
even without the faintest hope that he could get it up again.  This
luxury.

Kissing gently with his hands resting at Sam's waist and Sam on his
hands and knees above him when Sam's stomach rumbles.  Nathan
laughs in spite of himself and catches the heat of Sam's blush on his
skin.  He's lost the whole day somewhere; the remaining light's
hitting the floor at a long slant, and Sam hasn't eaten since early
morning.

Nathan pushes Sam towards his feet and half-sits up.  "Go shower.
I'll be right behind you."

Stays half-lying while Sam gets down off him and collects his clothes
from the floor.  Nathan's clothes, if they're honest, but Sam's
claimed them in some essential way, and the drape of khaki and
white cotton on his rangy body is undeniably sexy.

He takes a couple of minutes to get up, and a couple more to strip his
jeans the rest of the way off and find something decent to replace
them.  Tries to remember the last time he was so desperate for sex
that he didn't manage to get fully undressed first.  Looks a little
ruefully at the semen-stains and general mess on the denim before
burying them under yesterday's clothes in the hamper.

When he gets to the bathroom, Sam's already gone, just steam and
drops of water all over the tile standing as evidence that he was
there at all.  Nathan showers with the efficiency he learned from
cleaning himself up after desert battles.  Starkly clean in a matter of
short minutes.  Takes a little longer after that to arch into the hot
water and enjoy the warmth.  Gets out and gets dressed, throws his
wet towels and the ones Sam left behind into the wash.

Sam's waiting for him in the hall.  Down towards the end, by the
stairs, with the window-bank illuminating him.  He pulls up from his
lean when he sees Nathan and turns to face him.

He's been back to his room at some point.  Found a belt that actually
belongs to him to cinch the shorts around his hips with.  Found
underwear, Nathan hopes.  Pulled on an undershirt.  Brushed his hair.
But the dress shirt around his shoulders is definitely Nathan's, and
the white lines of it and the wifebeater tank top leave his collarbone
and chest starkly visible.  Highlighting the bruises and hickeys and
bite-marks that trace his body from jaw to navel.  Barefoot on the
hardwood.  Brilliantly gold.

Sam flashes Nathan a puffy-lipped grin and scoots down the stairs,
fast enough that Nathan can't catch him without breaking into an
obvious run.  Towards various cooking-smells and the horde of
people currently mustering in the kitchen.  Obvious and happy and
demanding that Nathan come after him.

A man-shaped celebration of victory, the spoils following on
his heels.
 

End