Meaningless little piece/ Not exactly fluff... god Lord, it is kind of
fluffy, isn't it? Put me out of my misery...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Pocky. That's it. Also, it's not that I don't like Rogue, it's that I don't *like* her. Ah well.
~Always~
It's the same and it's different.
They'll be sitting around, studying or watching TV. And there's something. Maybe John flicks his lighter, or Bobby starts to chew on his lower lip. And one of them *looks*. A half-lidded flicker that will shimmer it's way through Johnny. Then there will be a quirk of an eyebrow (now? here?) and an answering smirk (yes), and Johnny will start to get warm all over and it will have nothing to do with fire.
After that there are many possibilities.
Sometimes there is no warning. Johmny barely has time to breathe as Bobby's teeth scrape ofer him, rough and demanding. Everything will be loud and hot and hard and fast (and hungry)
Sometimes everything is playful, and there are a few times Johnny ties Bobby's hands behind his back with his shirt. And Bobby's eyes will go wide, and then he will laugh, and John will work very hard to make sure that Bobby begs. (tell me what you want)
And there are a few times that Bobby teases, times that are slow, with cold, callused hands rasping gently over warm flesh. Johnny finds that Bobby can coax smiles and soft moans from him. Everything's soft. (soft and warm) Even Bobby.
And during all of those times (any of those times) John wants to tell Bobby that he loves him. But that soft panting from the corner stops him. Those glazed brown eyes will always stop him. Because as equal as this triangle appears to be, John will never love Rogue (like Rogue). Only Bobby.
So now when Bobby's hands come over to rest on his shoulders and begin to slide downward he shrugs them away (pushes them away).
"Rogue's not here, remember?"
They're sitting in their room, finishing up the `Catcher in the Rye' or whatever shit novel it is they're reading in English this week. Rogue is off in her own room. (not here)
"Does it always have to be about Rogue?"
John pauses. Something in Bobby's tone makes him. "Always, Bobby? Or never?"
(Do you do this for her... or for yourself?)
And a faint, husky whisper in his ear. "It was never about Rogue." Bobby's voice wavers.
John lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Good." (really good)
And Bobby lets out a breathless laugh that John has shocked out of him, followed by another one of those slow times, warm and unhurried. And this time there are no sounds that are not Bobby's or John's, no eyes watching from the corner, no moments of awkwardness. And John can finally say what needs to be said.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Pocky. That's it. Also, it's not that I don't like Rogue, it's that I don't *like* her. Ah well.
~Always~
It's the same and it's different.
They'll be sitting around, studying or watching TV. And there's something. Maybe John flicks his lighter, or Bobby starts to chew on his lower lip. And one of them *looks*. A half-lidded flicker that will shimmer it's way through Johnny. Then there will be a quirk of an eyebrow (now? here?) and an answering smirk (yes), and Johnny will start to get warm all over and it will have nothing to do with fire.
After that there are many possibilities.
Sometimes there is no warning. Johmny barely has time to breathe as Bobby's teeth scrape ofer him, rough and demanding. Everything will be loud and hot and hard and fast (and hungry)
Sometimes everything is playful, and there are a few times Johnny ties Bobby's hands behind his back with his shirt. And Bobby's eyes will go wide, and then he will laugh, and John will work very hard to make sure that Bobby begs. (tell me what you want)
And there are a few times that Bobby teases, times that are slow, with cold, callused hands rasping gently over warm flesh. Johnny finds that Bobby can coax smiles and soft moans from him. Everything's soft. (soft and warm) Even Bobby.
And during all of those times (any of those times) John wants to tell Bobby that he loves him. But that soft panting from the corner stops him. Those glazed brown eyes will always stop him. Because as equal as this triangle appears to be, John will never love Rogue (like Rogue). Only Bobby.
So now when Bobby's hands come over to rest on his shoulders and begin to slide downward he shrugs them away (pushes them away).
"Rogue's not here, remember?"
They're sitting in their room, finishing up the `Catcher in the Rye' or whatever shit novel it is they're reading in English this week. Rogue is off in her own room. (not here)
"Does it always have to be about Rogue?"
John pauses. Something in Bobby's tone makes him. "Always, Bobby? Or never?"
(Do you do this for her... or for yourself?)
And a faint, husky whisper in his ear. "It was never about Rogue." Bobby's voice wavers.
John lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Good." (really good)
And Bobby lets out a breathless laugh that John has shocked out of him, followed by another one of those slow times, warm and unhurried. And this time there are no sounds that are not Bobby's or John's, no eyes watching from the corner, no moments of awkwardness. And John can finally say what needs to be said.