Notes: I have a crazy crush on the younger "days of future past" Peter Maximoff, and so I'll be referring to him in this story; I also like to pair him with Remy Lebeau. This is a bit of an alternate universe and doesn't take place on any particular timeline, so bear with me.
The after scent of bourbon and cigar smoke still lingered in Remy Lebeau's hotel room; after a long night of traveling up the east coast on his way to Washington D.C, he'd decided to stop into a hotel and casino for a few drinks and rounds of poker. He had just begun to stir and noted a pounding headache, no doubt from the remnants of last night's excessive alcohol consumption. He'd been unfortunately awakened by the bright morning sun shining through his window and as a wave of nausea flooded over him, he turned to avoid the cause of his discomfort, only to jump back in surprise as he was greeted by the warmth of another body!
"Fuck."
He uttered the curse word audibly; Remy had to admit to himself that the events of the prior night were a bit hazy, but the last thing he expected to see was a young man-VERY young- stretched out on top of the goose down comforter, wearing nothing but a pair of Pink Floyd boxers. Tresses of silver hair fell over sleeping eyes and his mouth hung agape as he snored...rather obnoxiously.
Remy rubbed his eyes and groaned as memories of his drunken escapade came flooding back.
Remy Lebeau had a clearly unfair advantage against the other card players; thanks to both his mutant abilities and lifetime of experience, playing poker with these poor saps came as second nature to him. He laughed as he collected another pile of winnings and placed several chips on the table; sipping his glass of Kentucky bourbon, he motioned for the man behind the table to deal him in.
"I got time for anotha round before hittin the road."
He'd already consumed several alcoholic beverages and the numbers on the cards were getting to be a bit hazy, so he knew he probably wouldn't sober up before continuing his travels-something Remy realized was part of the reason free alcohol was provided to patrons. Still, the convenience of the upstairs hotel suites was assuring to him and the Cajun man beckoned for another drink, delighting in his leisurely games.
"Whatcha doin?"
A familiar voice startled him, causing his cigar to drop out of his mouth and into his beverage; he growled up at the offender and was greeted by a widespread, mischievous grin. Peter Maximoff enunciated,
"What...are...you...doing?"
The silver haired youth was inappropriately sitting atop the poker table and as the dealer shouted at him to get down, he quickly zoomed over to a neighboring bar stool within the blink of an eye. Remy looked at him questioningly; the teenaged mutant was the last person he expected to see in an upscale hotel and casino.
"The better question is, what're YOU doin here? Must be past your bedtime," mocked the elder man, in his signature Louisiana accent.
Peter raised an eyebrow and smirked, opening his jacket pocket to reveal a collection of winning poker chips; Remy also noted the fresh cigar now being lit between Peter's lips.
"What I mean is, they don't allow children in these establishments," Remy condescended.
Peter choked a bit as his virgin lungs inhaled toxic fumes, causing Remy to snicker.
"You know, it really doesn't matter because if they catch me, I can be gone before they even have time to ask for ID and these are disgusting, by the way. You shouldn't smoke, it's bad for you," Peter rambled off.
As Remy was now reminded, Peter's mouth was as infamously fast as his feet; the older of the two mutants always found him to be obnoxious and more than a little annoying, but with the quickster now spinning around in the chair on his opposite side, he couldn't help but find his antics a bit endearing; his mild attraction could surely be blamed on his drunkenness, as he told himself.
"Well since you put it that way monsier, may I offer you a drink?" Mr. Lebeau's words were slightly slurred.
"Nah, it won't work for me anyway since it metabolizes out of my system so fast." Peter bobbed his head to the music Remy assumed was playing in his head; this was evidence of his short attention span, alongside picking some dirt out from under his thumbnail.
"I'm afraid I must insist if you are to be in my company," he purred at Peter as he passed a fresh glass of dark liquid in front of him.
Peter rolled his eyes and consumed the fiery beverage in one large gulp, grimacing at the taste.
"I just stopped here on my way back home. I got pulled over in a rental car, so I ran here and got away from the cops. That thing was too slow anyway and it wasn't my rental so who cares? Nothing in it for me."
Remy's eyes were a bit hazy as he listened to the boy blabber on; in his relaxed state, he wasn't very tolerant of people who talked so fast and he lacked the caring to try and decipher what Peter was saying. Instead, he found himself staring at the pair of lips that moved quickly with speech and fantasized about ways to shut him up. He'd become so entranced by his day dreaming that he was startled when Peter obnoxiously knocked on the top of his head.
"Hey, you in there? Man, you should cut yourself off, I think you've had a little too much and you're gonna feel super shitty in the morning." Peter tisked him by waving a finger in front of his face and briskly gulped down the remainder of Remy's drink.
"You've never been able to sit still and shut up, have you?" Lebeau wondered to himself out loud and nearly wobbled out of his seat; Peter characteristically caught him and stopped him from falling.
Something about his touch sent electricity up Remy's spine and he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time...a need to pin a person down and have his way with them.
The New Orleans native never considered himself to be gay. Not by any means. But likewise, he wouldn't feel comfortable calling himself straight either...and his sexuality always leaned more toward the male specimen when he'd been drinking.
He didn't recall mentioning his room number to Maximoff before he was whisked off and found outside of his suite, but he didn't disagree it was time to leave the casino and retire. But he didn't want to be alone.
Stumbling a bit, he braced himself against the door frame and swiped his key card, granting Peter entrance into the room, where his curiosity got the better of him and he entered. Looking around in awe, he didn't hesitate to zoom across the room and examine everything. Remy was, at this point, happy that all of his valuables were locked in a closet safe, hidden away from the kleptomaniac.
"Ya know I feel a little bit drunk," confessed Peter.
Remy noted the pink tinge to his cheeks and wobble in his step; he agreed that downing two strong alcoholic beverages may have been enough to slightly intoxicate the boy.
Peter stepped forward a bit and tripped into Remy's chest; the taller man questioned if it had really been an accident, since Peter's system metabolizes so quickly and he doubted that he would be anymore intoxicated than slightly buzzed. But he couldn't stop himself from inhaling the scent of shampoo coming from the silver hair that was now right under his nose.
Peter arched his chin upward and caught Remy's eye; there was something undeniably attractive about him. Yes, he was annoying and could be called a huge pain in the ass, but there was also an element of loveliness about him...before he realized he was going to do it, Remy bent down and captured Peter's lips in an unexpected kiss, causing the silver haired youth to gasp a bit, which allowed room for Remy's tongue to enter his mouth.
Remy Lebeau felt the smaller body tense a bit against him, but he didn't pull away. He seemed nervous, somewhat inexperienced and virgin like, but also cocky, like this had been his plan all along. The older man pulled back and stared down at Peter's face; his eyes were widened, brows slightly raised and lips tinged red from having been kissed. In Remy's drunken stupor, he was hit with a moment of clarity that Peter was probably a virgin and was also not known to be of age.
'This feels wrong,' he thought to himself. 'But he had to have known...he came to my room...'
Peter's eyes were filled with something unfamiliar; aside from his usual arrogant demeanor, he seemed somber and wanting of something; it was as if his devious plan all along was to convince Remy to touch him, because he needed to be touched by someone. Maybe he didn't even know what he wanted; only that he had an urge that needed to be satisfied.
"Fuck it."
Remy pushed Peter backward onto the suite's water bed, eliciting a gasp from his partner, which was cut off when Remy pressed his lips against Peter's again. He couldn't let the boy run his mouth anymore...his words were intolerable and Remy much preferred him when he was quiet.
Peter wasn't sure what prompted him to stop on his way back to New York; breaking the speed limit wasn't enough for him and running was never tiring, but his attention span called for something new. Something exciting.
Intoxication was an unfamiliar feeling; he'd been drunk before but only briefly. He chose to think it was the alcohol that was making the man's calloused fingers feel so fantastic on his pale skin; Remy had slipped his hand up Peter's shirt, teasing him while he kissed at his neck. Peter was really unsure of what to do; getting laid was in every teenaged boy's mind, but not like this; not with someone older than him, more experienced and not to mention someone with a dick. It's not that he'd never fantasized about male lovers before; when he was alone in his basement, with the door locked. Peter was very easily bored, and like most teenagers, boredom sometimes led to experimentation with surging hormones. Most of the time he thought about the babes from tv-he recalled his favorite 'Charlie's Angels' fantasy-but every now and then, he had a craving to be dominated. Maybe he liked the idea that someone could pin him down for once. But that didn't make him gay, did it?
Peter's breath hitched when Remy Lebeau's hand found the growing bulge in his pants, lightly rubbing him through the fabric of his jeans. He felt the warmth of alcohol from Remy's breath by his ear and heard the man purr to him,
"Your body is superb, Cher" before Remy bit down on his earlobe; Peter gasped in surprise.
This was nothing like his basement "alone time." He'd never teased himself. Not being known to take his time with anything, Peter always rushed through his masturbatory experiments, quickly bringing himself to climax and never allowing time for his anticipation to build. But Remy definitely took his time; he'd moved his hand from Peter's crotch and tugged at the hem of his shirt.
Peter took it as his cue and in a flash, he'd stripped himself down to nothing but a pair of boxers; Remy laughed and hiccuped, still appearing more than a bit tipsy.
It was impossible for this man to not ooze sexuality, Peter thought to himself. Now standing at the end of the bed, he couldn't help but admire Remy's long form stretched seductively across the water bed. Peter gave the man props. He was hot. 'Is that weird to say about another dude?' The speedster shrugged and zipped back over to the bed, joining Remy and catching him in a liplock by surprise.
Although Peter was technically still a virgin, he'd gotten practice in the art of making out; his cheeks flushed and he shuddered at a memory of one night when he'd received a kissing lesson from a female classmate behind the school bleachers, where he was so excited by her touch, he came in his pants. Easily his most embarrassing moment ever. And he really liked those jeans.
The tables turned when Remy flipped him back onto the bed and straddled him; he too had removed his clothing, leaving discarded trousers, suspenders and a silky button up shirt in a pile. Peter noted that Remy apprently didnt like underwear; he was pretty sure the surprised look on his face was noticeable as he caught his first glance at Remy's throbbing manhood. Peter wasn't necessarily small per se, but he felt embarrassed comparing himself to the well endowed man on top of him. Remy caught his eye and smirked.
"Pauve ti bête," Remy whispered in Peter's ear. "You look frustrated."
The silver haired teen was indeed very, VERY frustrated; he had an aching hardon and a growing wet spot on the front of his boxers.
"Are you ready for more?"
Peter nodded eagerly, with his typical widespread grin on his flushed face.
Suddenly, Remy stood and took him by surprise when he grabbed a fistful of messy silver hair, yanking Peter's face toward his crotch.
Remy was typically a gentleman, in spite of his rugged demeanor and would never allow himself to lower down to the class of brutes and roughians. But the alcohol in his system was making him feel a bit aggressive and he was having fun, testing the limits of a tender virgin. Peter's brown eyes were clenched shut as he winced from the pain of having his hair yanked, but he never resisted or tried to overpower Remy. If anything, he seemed a bit excited about it; the tent pitched in his boxers grew a bit under the restraint. But a sobering thought entered Lebeau's mind; he wasn't sure why Peter was here, or why he so readily allowed himself to be savaged by a man much older and more experienced than him. He relaxed his grip and saw Peter open his eyes; the confused look on his face was...dare he say...adorable. Which partially made Remy sick, but also stirred a feeling of wanting to be gentle and guide him.
"I'm not gonna make ya do anything ya don't wanna do," said Remy, gently coaxing Peter to lay his head back on the pillows. He, in turn, rolled over and laid his own head down, which he realized to be a mistake, as the room started to spin.
But much to Remy's surprise, he heard a "woosh" of movement and Peter was between his legs, sheepishly smiling at him.
"Hey man, I never do anything I don't want to do," said the boy; with lightning speed, he had engulfed Remy's shaft into his mouth and the Cajun man thrusted his hips in earnest.
Whether Peter had ever done this before, he hadn't a clue at this point but if not, he was certainly a fast learner. He did cough and sputter a bit after taking in the entire length of Remy's erection, but quickly returned and learned to relax his throat muscles. Remy thrusted his hips a bit, causing Peter's nose to press against his pubic bone, which enticed him even more.
Soon, he felt the rising pressure of his oncoming orgasm and shoved Peter off of him; the teen look confused, but Remy had no time to explain. With a returning urge to dominate, there was something he just had to do; he needed to see himself cum across Peter's soft, pale skin.
"Open your mouth," Remy ordered. Peter hesitated but complied and just in time, Remy shot a stream of hot cum across the bottom of Peter's face, landing most of it into his open mouth. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to degrade the boy and make him look violated, but that was what he accomplished as he saw pearly ribbons of white liquid dripping down his chin; he'd spat most of it out in surprise.
"Duuude, that's disgusting!" Declared Peter, wiping the rest of Remy's cum off with the bed sheet.
"My apologies," muttered Remy, who was nearly out of breath.
"It's cool but uhh...are you planning to just leave me like this?" Peter wondered awkwardly; Remy had almost forgotten about Peter's situation that had developed in his boxers that he, for some reason, hadn't discarded.
"Not at all, Cher," assured Remy with a devilish grin.
Quickly, but not nearly as quickly as Peter had taken charge of him, Remy pulled down the boy's boxers and admired the tuft of silver wispy hair leading down to his still erect cock. Remy Lebeau was a gentleman and would never receive any treatment without returning the favor.
He tantalizingly teased Peter's erection with the tip of his tongue, delighting from the gasps and moans he could draw out of his partner. He wanted to keep Peter going and delay his relief for much longer, but tiredness was overtaking him; Remy licked the length of Peter's shaft before taking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head of it. Still, Peter's stamina was surprising for a virgin; he could see the teenager was close, as he was gripping the bed sheets with his head thrust back. But he needed something else.
Remy pulled away, ignoring the grunt of frustration and annoyance from Peter; looking around, he spotted a small bottle of complimentary lotion, conveniently sitting nearby on a bedside table.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the bottle and popped it open, squirting some onto his fingers.
"...whatcha doin?" Wondered Peter, with nervous curiosity. Remy's red and black eyes glinted with cruel intention.
"Oh, you'll see, mon cher."
And with that, he grabbed Peter's legs and pushed his shins backward, revealing the entirety of his body.
Peter's mind was racing; his knees were pressed up against his chest, his dick was in another dude's hand and he found himself completely exposed and a little embarrassed; he jumped when two lotion slicked fingers touched his backside, partially because he was nervous and also because that lotion was cold as fuck.
"Hey hey, so, umm...you're not gonna go too far are you? Because I haven't put much thought into this and uhh-" he stuttered over his words, not entirely sure what he wanted.
"Just say the word, Cher, and we can stop," Remy assured him.
But Peter was finding it hard to say the magic word "no," and instead found himself relaxing as the now warmed up fingers circled his entrance.
Remy took that as permission and with one hand still around Peter's member, he slid a finger into the boy's tight body, now entirely sure he must be a virgin.
Peter found the sensation to be uncomfortable and foreign, but not painful like he'd worried it would be; Remy's hand was now stroking up and down his pulsating cock, while a second finger was added; the older man explored Peter's entrance until he found a spot that caused Peter to inhale sharply. There it is.
Peter, not wanting to suffer another embarrassing incident, tried to imagine everything non-sexual he could think of-like twinkies, and ping pong. Or how awesome it would feel if Remy sucked on a Popsicle before giving him head-and there it was.
Peter let out one last strangled moan before he came into Remy's hand, feeling a little disappointed when he felt the two digits pull away from his body. Fuck; again?!
His face twisted into a look of annoyance before he suddenly felt Remy's lips press against his; it was just a gentle peck and the now exhausted man turned off the light, muttering "goodnight, mon Cher" as he covered them both with a thin cotton sheet. Peter took time to pull on his boxers before he sprawled out on the bed and began to snore, loudly.
Remy felt Peter's now passed out body shift and the teen's hand accidentally smacked him in the face, but he was too drunk and too tired to care who slept in his bed with him. And with that, he succumbed to much needed rest.
Fin.
I'm not entirely sure where to go with this, but I may write a few more chapters, including their morning encounter; constructive feedback is always appreciated!
Love always