Title: Wings
Rating: R
Pairing: Bobby/John, hinted John/Warren(Archangel)
Summary: The dip of his lower back into jeans that fit in all the right ways, hair hanging over his eyes and spreading out against the pillow, the curve of his spine up to his neck, slightly damp hairs sticking to the back of is neck and cheeks from sweating in the sun, the curve of his bicep on his upper arm, the simple black bracelet adorning his wrist that fit tight to the skin, the faint layer of brown hair that grazed the tan skin on his fore arms, and those wings; it was all too tempting.
Disclaimer: The usual.
Warnings: Slightly AU, because there's a reference to John and Warren having a moment, even though they never actually met. .
Notes: Please don't kill me for the pairings, and I'm sorry I'm doing this instead of posting the next part of 'Further' but sometimes I just get writer's vomit and have to get it out. : /
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Bobby had always thought of himself as a mild-mannered, noting out of the ordinary, honor student type of guy. That was until he felt the deep, twisting, and at times sickening feeling of arousal deep in his stomach. It reminded him of The Giver when Jonas was asked what the strongest feeling in his dream was, and he responded with "the wanting". It was like something had been triggered within him on that day, when he was greeted with a snakelike grin and a muttered greeting. Those brown eyes had stolen him from amidst the glow of a flame, and Bobby was captivated. On more than one occasion he had wanted to shake John and yell at him, scream at him for locking him away like this, making him feel like a prisoner, but it was such an intoxicating, delicious confinement that he wanted to beg for more.
The worst part was, he knew that John knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that John knew exactly how to pull Bobby's strings; those knowing smirks, the way he could just sit and stare at his lighter and he knew that Bobby was watching and couldn't do anything about it. He hated John's arrogance. He hated that the younger knew he was sexy and knew exactly how to act so that he seemed just barely out of reach. But he loved him for it at the same time. He loved the way John could catch his glance and they make eye contact and the times that so much could be said in those small moments.
But most of all, he loved John's wings.
Those black lines, artificially embedded into John's skin, stretched tight cross his back on either side of his slightly protruding spine. He loved the way he could watch John's muscles move as he took off his shirt or splashed water in the summer heat.
When he had asked John about them, he had merely received a smirk and sarcastic reply, "Didn't you know Bobby? I fell from heaven." To which he only replied with a smile and a fake laugh as he turned away.
Bobby didn't think he had ever seen anything sexier. He especially held onto one specific memory from when they were seventeen, and John had fallen asleep in only his jeans in early spring, when it was beginning to get particularly warm. Sprawled out atop the comforter, window open and sun beaming down on his back as he slept all too peacefully. The dip of his lower back into jeans that fit in all the right ways, hair hanging over his eyes and spreading out against the pillow, the curve of his spine up to his neck, slightly damp hairs sticking to the back of is neck and cheeks from sweating in the sun, the curve of his bicep on his upper arm, the simple black bracelet adorning his wrist that fit tight to the skin, the faint layer of brown hair that grazed the tan skin on his fore arms, and those wings; it was all too tempting. He wasn't sure, but that may have been the first time that, even though Bobby knew, they had openly addressed the little obsession of Bobby's that John couldn't help but notice.
The memory slightly saddened Bobby, because as he thrusted into a panting and groaning John, that he felt as if they had almost switched roles. He felt like he was constricting John, and he knew that eventually John would fly off.
He saw the jealousy in John's eyes, hidden by lust that day as the slightly younger ran his hand gently across the pristine white feathers of Warren's wings. Bobby watched on as the two made that quick eye contact that he himself had once shared with John, and he felt dejected, and even though he was still captive under John. He may have been captive, and was once John's favorite toy, but John had grown, and switched his old toys for new, more mature ones, he now sat abandoned in a corner.
And now, more than ever, he longed to have those artificial wings over tight muscle and skin that glistened with the sheen of sweat mixed with melted ice.
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Note: Not my best work, but at least it helped with my little word vomit problem.