AN: I don't own X-Men.
Mortimer has always been patient. Until recently, that is. Having literally nothing to do was grating on his already-frayed nerves.
"Quit grinding your teeth. It's pissing me off," came the deep rumble behind him.
Toad's jaw seized up. Of course Sabretooth would have something to say about the way he coped with being in a cramped little cell. A tiny, plain, two-by-two thing with- wait, they were in America. Americans used imperial units. So six feet by six feet, maybe a little more. Toad paced the length of the length of the cell door, which was less a door and more of a gate of bars made of some sort of plasma or something of the like, and found the cell to be just over the length of seven of his feet. Sabretooth didn't move when Mortimer came dangerously close to stepping on his pants leg.
"Sit down," Sabretooth growled. Mortimer's head snapped over in Victor's direction, giving the other an incredulous look.
The furry bastard took up most of the cell just by sitting in the corner. It didn't help matters that they had to carefully avoid the bars if they wanted to go un-singed. Toad had a small, black mark on his left palm that proved that much. He had to fight his subservient nature not to just drop to his haunches and look to the older man for his next order. It was something he'd been trying to break himself of in recent weeks.
The floor was covered in dust, though there was no logical reason it should be, Toad figured. It was the fine, soft and powdery kind of dust that accumulates over months of non-use. Like the books in the library at the orphanage. Fuck. It also seemed to cling to the walls and ceiling, miraculously stopping, go figure, just before the plasma bars. The floors outside were clean, from what he could see and what he had seen on the way in, like they were swept every hour. Which they weren't. They'd been locked up in the cell for a little over three hours, and they had yet to see anyone. No guards, no food, no other prisoners.
Victor made a noise somewhere between a snort and a snarl; his version of a scoff, mocking Mortimer for not following his orders. Their eyes met and they stared each other down. Sabretooth looked bored and mildly irritated, which, in Mortimer's opinion was a dramatic improvement over his usual attitude that shifted between two extremes- amused by others' misfortune and homicidal rage.
A thousand thoughts whirled through his mind, many of which he had no desire to bring to light as they crept along the edges of his conscious thought, giving the smaller man the set up for a brilliant headache. With a huff, he broke the staring contest and stepped over Victor's outstretched leg, curling himself up in the corner and finally, much to the other's relief, sitting. Toad figured it would only help to inflate Sabretooth's undeserved ego, but obeyed nonetheless.
With his feet situated under his body to spring up, should he need to, he leaned over his legs, wrapping his arms around them, one hand scratching nervously at the opposite arm. To take away some of the ache caused by the positioning of his legs-drawn in close, pressed together- he leaned his shoulder on the far wall, away from the doors. He would have rested his head on the wall as well, but the fact that his hair had somehow remained clean throughout the scuffle and being dragged in by the guards kept him from letting the cobwebs muck it up. His hair had really started to shine after his recent investment in a bottle of conditioner.
It felt good to be at least somewhat presentable, he reasoned to himself when he'd gotten a strange look and a wrinkled nose from the cashier. It probably had more to do with the fact that he was a mutant and less to so with the fact that he was buying women's products or his smell, the smell that he'd been working to contain recently, thankyouverymuch.
It wasn't a very easy task, this being presentable. He found that most soaps irritated his skin, causing it to break out or dry up, crack open and bleed. Liquid soaps were a bit easier, but very few brands were gentle enough for his skin.
He hadn't the courage to purchase soaps for infants, so he settled with those for humans with skin conditions. Eczema was a common name splashed across labels carelessly, and he did a little research into the condition. If anything made him feel a pang of remorse for humans, it was those suffering with Eczema and Psoriasis. Though he bounced back and forth between 'that's unfortunate' and 'feel my pain'.
He absently played with his hair as he briefly thought about how half-cocked this plan was, but he'd gone with it without saying a word after the highest praise he'd ever gotten from Magneto; 'You don't smell like a rubbish bin today'. No, in fact he smelled like city rain- mildly acidic, but still refreshing.
"-on yer period?"
"Wot?" He was startled into letting his accent slip, raising his head to look at the blonde.
"Ya been pretty moody lately," Victor clarified. "Usually the only thing I get from you is the stench of despair."
Toad tried to size up the look on the other's face, but found him strangely hard to read for once. Sabretooth usually wore his emotions on his sleeve, very caustic and explosive. But not then. He seemed almost passive. Almost. More like bored. Like he wasn't taking any pleasure from Mortimer's suffering, which was something he was known to do.
"So?" Toad asked, twirling a lock of hair around a finger, looking away from the beastly man. Seriously, putting a man who was over two meters tall in a two meter cell was cruel. Especially with another person.
"Just making conversation," Victor said with a heave of one broad shoulder, a shrug.
"Well, don't."
That earned Mortimer a snarl, which he was glad for. It meant the man he knew was back. Though, at the same time, it terrified him. He had nowhere to run. Even if he hopped up to the ceiling, Victor could just reach up and grab him and tear him limb from limb at his leisure.
"Just because you've got your stink under control, it doesn't make you hot shit now."
Mortimer's eyes widened briefly, then he hung his head. "No shit?" he muttered, though there was no real venom in his voice. His chin lay between his knees that pressed into either cheek. He heard Sabretooth move, but didn't look up.
He did, however, yelp when his arm was taken in a too-rough grip and he was pulled over Sabretooth's lap.
"The hell?" Mortimer groused, trying to pull his arm free of the other's grip. To no avail, of course. The blonde seemed to just watch him struggle for a moment, the prick. He got a strange look from the older man when he gave up and sagged into himself. He let his free arm rest in his lap, his knees and ankles bent awkwardly to keep from being pushed against the wall. His behind hovered in the space between Victor's thighs, his side slumped against the broad chest.
"The fuck ever," Mortimer mumbled. "It's not like I have anywhere to go. Do your worst."
"I'm not gonna rape you, if that's what yer thinkin'," Victor growled, releasing his tiny captive's arm.
"Course not," Toad mumbled, following it up with a self-depreciating bubble of laughter, "I know taking care of myself doesn't suddenly make me attractive." He used his free arm to support himself on the other side of Victor, sweaty palm sticky with dust.
He flinched when he heard a slightly quieter version of Sabertooth's roar, but didn't fight when he was seized by his biceps and turned to face the man. He let his legs go limp, his torso turning awkwardly until one leg had to follow suit, his knee digging into Victor's stomach in a way that couldn't be comfortable. When he turned his head away, his hair fell over his face.
"Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Sabretooth asked- no, accused.
Mortimer stared at the floor, lips pursed. His face burned with shame, but he stayed silent for a long moment. He didn't dare raise his eyes when he spoke; "I stopped grinding my teeth and I sat down. What more do you want?"
"How about for you to stop being a moody bitch?"
"Yes, I'll get right on changing my personality for you," Toad grumbled, glaring half-heartedly.
Victor huffed a short-lived growl and pulled Mortimer close to take a good, long breath, inhaling, tasting his scent. The younger man tenses, his heart going wild when a thick, broad, perfectly fitting and almost uncomfortably textured tongue swipes between his neck and shoulder. He tries to pull away, unintentionally exposing more to the other, the wide neck of the clothing they were forced into sliding down while he struggled.
Sabretooth holds him in place, both burly arms around Toad's torso and arms. The younger man's skin leaves a pleasant tingle on his tongue, so he swipes it over the flesh again. And again.
"I thought you weren't going to rape me," Mortimer says lowly when teeth graze the flesh the feral man had been suckling. A spark of arousal makes him tingle in odd places, but Toad manages to stomp it down under a wave of disappointment. Being lied to. Again. He quits struggling and occupies his mind with mundane thoughts, like wondering if he has enough money stashed away to treat himself to a decent meal. Maybe he'll make himself some toad-in-the-hole and carrot cake. The thought made him smirk until he felt the claws of one of Sabretooth's hand digging into his back.
He hissed and pulled back, but it didn't stop two of the nails from leaving angry red welts in their wake. Though Victor loosened his grip. Mortimer sat back, perched precariously on Sabretooth's knees, and he notices that- oh. Oh! Victor's pupils are dilated and he's grinning, but it's not his usual tight-lipped, feral grin that makes you truly feel like a tiny woodland creature. It was more loose, more unguarded, less terrifying and almost sexy. Almost.
The fucker was getting high off of his sweat!
Victor's reflexes had dulled just enough for Mortimer to get his feet under himself and shove off, attaching himself to the dusty ceiling, mildly surprised that he stuck.
"Asshole," he accused, cheeks tinged with a blush.
Sabretooth's grin returned to its feral, terrifying state, and he adjusted his half-hard dick before splaying out one leg and bending the other to rest his elbow on it. "That's a pretty neat trick," the older man nearly purred.
"Eat a dick."