Lance pined for his guitar.

Stabbing his toe into the carpet, he sullenly thought how unfair life was.

It had to be him- wasn't life a bitch? As if fate wasn't cruel enough to him already, some bastard mutant out there had rendered him temporarily paralysed in the arms. And what, exactly could you do without the use of your arms? Not a lot.

He didn't really remember how it happened. The Brotherhood had been causing trouble in town at the time and ran into an older, bigger mutant gang. Looking back now, there was no way in hell they could have taken that group on. He supposed one of them must have tried to stop his powers by doing whatever they had done to his arms. It was so incredibly humiliating. He had never lost his powers before, never felt vulnerable. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't fainted as well, leading him to be the butt of many a Brotherhood joke. The next thing he knew, he was being looked over by that blue, furry X-Freak, Beast. And the Beast, that bastard was telling him that the paralysis would last for a month.

A fucking month!

Mystique had visited the evening of the accident, delighted that he had done something so deliciously idiotic. The insults could have lasted all night, had she not had tickets for the opera. She glared, shouted, jerked his floppy arm about in the hope that some signs of life would appear. When that didn't work, she called half-heartedly decided that Lance would need an 'assistant'.

Fred was out of the question. He was kind enough to do the job, but far too stupid. He'd either tire of the job too quickly or kill Lance somewhere in the process- unintentionally of course.

Todd would have happily done the job, but Mystique was reluctant to leave a semi-invalid in his care. If Todd's own personal hygiene was anything to go by, he couldn't even look after himself. Besides, she herself wouldn't particularly like to have to spend a month having the Toad cater for her every need. No, the smell would be unbearable.

So that really only left Pietro. He wasn't the most ideal choice- wasn't "I only look after number one" one of his catchphrases? But then again, maybe having to care for somebody else might deflate his swollen head a little. She knew he was the most responsible after Lance, as well.

The look on their faces when she had told them were priceless. Lance stared at her indignantly, then Pietro and moodily, his gaze fell to the carpet. Pietro just blinked and shook his head in disbelief before the tiniest of smiles curled his lip.

The first few days of being in Maximoff's care had been torture for Lance. Pietro had been, in his eyes, completely over-attentive. Whenever he spoke, he smirked and frequently taunted him. "Can you manage, Lance? Need some help there?"

The one bonus was that he got to miss a month of school. Well, what use would he have been there? Pietro also got the time off, and was utterly thrilled.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason he was happy at the prospect of looking after Lance, however much he'd have liked it to be. Against his own will, he had found himself falling for the Earthquake-boy. It didn't bother him so much that he had feelings for a male, but.. Lance? Mr Couldn't-Be- Straighter-If-He-Tried Alvers? And now, seeing him all day, every day was only making it worse. Without the use of his arms, Lance was helpless. God.. That turned him on. The things he could do, if only he wasn't such a coward and Lance wasn't so. heterosexual!

As the time went on, Lance began to mildly enjoy Pietro's company. Maximoff had a short attention span, which meant that neither of them were ever bored. Lance could tell that he was slowing Pietro down and almost regretted it, but then why shouldn't the boy suffer a little? It wasn't like he was having to eat through a straw or have to be helped to dress. Of course, Pietro had sworn never to look and had stayed true to his word. It was so hard not to touch Lance, but he always refrained. Had to refrain, even if it meant thinking of the Blob in a bikini.

It must have been boredom that started it off. That and those wonderful things- hormones. Everything began to remind him of sex. It didn't help that sex was everywhere he looked, thanks to the modern media. He could barely turn on the TV without seeing a ripe pair of breasts, nipples decadently prominent and just ready to bite. And that Kitty Pryde. When was she going to stop calling round in her X-Freak uniform, so gloriously tight around areas that he could only dream about?

Sex. Sex sex sex. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it!

It made him so irritable. Damn, Maximoff was an annoying little shit. Why'd he have to talk so fast? Stupid hair. Stupid, stupid everything and stupid paralysis!

That particular day found him silently seething in front of the TV, Pietro in a chair across from him fiddling with his guitar. His baby. The boy knew well enough not to play it and seemed content enough just to hold it. Although he would have never admitted it, Lance's guitar made him feel really cool. Sometimes, when Lance went to bed he'd jump around the room with it, miming riffs and solos like there was no tomorrow.

He looked across at Alvers, who was looking extremely frustrated. He was chewing on his lip furiously and almost rocking back and forth. Pietro tentatively put the guitar down- which he later learnt was named Kitty, what else?- and put on a cheerful smile.

"Well well, Lance, what's got you all hot and bothered?"

Sex. Sex. Sex. Lance glared across at Pietro, then became paranoid. Hot? Bothered? What did he know, could he see?

"Nothing."

Sex. Breasts, nipples, Kitty Pryde. Oh God, Kitty Pryde!! "Sure." The silver-haired boy's lips twisted into an evil little grin. Lance tried desperately to think of something unsexy- Toad naked- yes, naked Toad- oh, naked Kitty- naked naked naked!

He needed it so much. Really, desperately. And he couldn't- he physically couldn't! But he needed it- needed to-

"Anything I can do for you?"

Lance was surprised to find that there was no sneer in Pietro's voice. For once, he seemed genuine, concerned even. There was no smirk, no gleam in the icy eyes. This was the real Maximoff. And before he could stop himself- he was doing it- asking for the one thing he needed most but would deeply regret. What would Pietro even think?

"You want me to-?" Maximoff's eyes became wide, and Lance realised that a lot of his ego-charged persona was just a façade. Pietro looked so innocent and shocked, corrupted by Lance's filthy little mind.

"Yes, I mean, no! I mean-"

"Relax." Lance looked up to see that Pietro was smiling. "Testosterone, eh? What a bastard."

"Yes-" Lance found that he was beginning to babble. He needed this. Really, really desperately. "Please do it- no one has to know and I know it's asking a lot- I- could pay you, maybe."

Pietro snickered.

"Lance, you can't pay me to bring you off! Do you know how that makes you sound?"

"Desperate?" asked Lance, staring at Pietro like a bird after prey. "Come on, Piet. I'm 17. It's killing me!"

"Mm." Pietro looked into Lance's eyes intently, looking unsuitably grave.

"OK," he muttered after what seemed like an age for Lance. "I'll do it."

Lance sank into the chair with relief.

"Thanks, Piet."

In a flash, Pietro zipped around the room pulling all the curtains shut. Then he appeared in front of Lance, an almost nervous look on his face. Lance stood, too intoxicated with lust to sense the awkwardness.

"Here goes nothing," Pietro murmured to himself. The moment he had been dreaming about for months was finally happening, although not quite in the circumstances he had hoped. With a steady hand, he reached for the zip of Lance's jeans. "Pretend I'm Pretty Kitty," he told Lance and he took hold of the zip and half undid it, immediately greeted by the force of Lance's desire. He watched as Lance strained, grinding against the zip for some release. Lightly, he slapped the Rock-Tumbler's backside and pulled the zip down fully.

Noting that without the use of his arms, Lance's balance was off, Pietro was faced with the dilemma of taking his jeans off. In the end, he put one forceful hand on Lance's shoulder and used the other to slide the jeans down. Before long, both lost their balance and ended up in a sweaty heap on the ground. Pietro carefully slid off Lance's jeans completely and helped him to stand again. The boy was starting to breathe more quickly now and using his speed skills, Pietro removed his underwear in a flash to release him more quickly.

And how Lance needed release. His dick was huge and throbbing, purple tinged.

"Fuck," Pietro muttered softly. "How long has it been?"

"Too long," Lance whispered hoarsely. If he'd had the use of his arms, he couldn't help suspecting that he'd like to pull Maximoff to him and do filthy things to him- only, that wasn't right. He liked girls, didn't he? Kitty. Oh God.

"Don't be so fucking kinky!" he growled at Pietro, almost crying with need. "Do it!"

On his command, Pietro outstetched his hand.

"How do you like it?" he asked.

"Slow at first-" Lance grunted. "Then harder."

"Slow?" Pietro raised a raven's wing eyebrow, looking handomely devilish. "You've come to the wrong guy, Alvers."

"Do it," Lance repeated, pleading now. In return, he was grabbed by Maximoff, a forceful fist closing around him. For a few seconds- nothing. Torture. Then Pietro trailed a long finger over the tip, evoking a moan from Lance and closed his fist again, stroking slow and hard. He used his other hand to steady Lance, guiding them both towards a wall where he pinned him. Lance threw his head back as the pleasure became more intense, Pietro's other hand rolling his balls.

Pietro moaned, wanting to do so much more. How far would Lance let him go for release? Why, of all people did he have to have feelings for Alvers, the boy whose cock he was currently pumping into oblivion?

"Fuck you," Lance groaned as Pietro began to tease him by stopping, then starting again, harder, faster, slower, stopping, pumping, stroking.. It was so intense.. And the images in his mind. Kitty Pryde.. If this were her hand.. He could see her now, so clear.

Jesus, Maximoff was skilled. But cruel- so cruel- why stop, why keep stopping? It was killing him. And he was loving it. Pietro began to stroke the tip again in small, beautiful circles, and Lance could feel himself teetering on the edge, almost there. One more- Kitty, naked and touching him- one, hard tug and that was it. He was released.

"Fuck!" he screamed, his cock twitching under Pietro's grip. He shuddered, trembled, felt like he was falling into the wall. And then he came, almost violently into Maximoff's hand, eyes closed and mouth wide open.

"Oh fuck.." he repeated softly, head spinning. Pietro's hand was still on his shoulder, making sure he didn't overbalance. He watched as Pietro opened his hand, examining Lance's thick, white semen with half-lidded eyes. The boy then closed his hand and in a convulsive movement, pressed his mouth to Lance's violently, sucking on his tongue posessively.

"Kitty.." Lance moaned into his mouth. Pietro pulled away immediately, a look Lance had never seen before on his face. Hurt. Disappointment.

"No," he whispered softly. "I'm not. And I never will be."

It killed Lance how slowly Maximoff walked out of the room when he was capable of such speed. He walked with his head down and his shoulders tightly hunched, visibly hurt.

He left Lance slumped against the wall.

Exposed.

Confused.

Released.