Firey Rebirth
Ok :) I think now that my fandom love is evening out again I'll start writing a chapter of each of my fics. This will probably mean I'll post a new chapter ever 3 or 4 days.
Assuming all goes to plan.
This chapter's dedicated to DeMarcos ;) for forgetting that you were waiting on this fic as well lol.
Chapter 7
He was going to faint, at least he thought he was. He'd never fainted before and so had no idea what it was supposed to feel like, but he was certain it had to be something like this. His legs, well the good one at least, trembled beneath his weight and he seemed to lose control over his muscles as he became light headed. He was going to collapse, but for some reason he couldn't get his hands up to grab anything to stop him. It seemed his body didn't dare make any sort of movement that might stop the wonderfully warm lips that currently moved across his own. Luckily he didn't need to, as burning hands lightly touched his sides, curling around them until they pressed against the small of his back to each side of his spine. The heat was incredibly intense, definitely above a temperature that would probably have been comfortable, but not severe enough to burn.
His eyes flew open at the touches, the slightly wild and uncontrollable panic he was beginning to feel probably visible in them, along with a faint touch of despair. Brilliant blue met his stare, watching his reactions from barely an inch away as a tongue gently swiped across his lips. He did fall then, his body going limp, but the arms held him up, pressed to the lycra torso in front, only his shoulder left without contact. He gasped at the sensation, his head falling back slightly, feeling movement that ended with him pressed against the cool wall behind him, contrasting with the overwhelming heat at the front. The tongue entered his mouth at the tacit permission, and those now almost burning blue eyes slid closed with a flash of something undefinable.
The hands released their grip on him as they slid up his sides, barely ghost like pressure that whispered across his skin, the caress causing him to let out a moan that was audible even through their battling tongues. There was a crash somewhere nearby, and with a start he suddenly remembered exactly where he was and who was doing this to him.
The panic and fear resurged within him, tearing at his control like rabid dogs straining against a leash. With a start he shoved against the firm muscles in Johnny's biceps, his mouth tearing away to the side where his terrified gaze took in a hallway frozen in place like statues. He was sure he didn't have the strength to actually move the other man off him if he didn't wish to leave, but as their mouths parted the Torch seemed to remember exactly what was happening as well. Those hands almost leapt away from his sides and the larger boy took a small step away, allowing Michael to pull the jacket tightly closed around him to hide his obvious arousal.
He felt tears building up, threatening to embarrass him further in front of the collection of hospital staff and patients that crowded the hall, coloured with a throb of anger. He clenched down on them viciously, determined not to let Johnny Storm get that reaction out of him. He wanted to punch the other man at the betrayal. He doubted a punch from him would faze the Human Torch however, and the worst part was that he'd done it to himself. He'd been weak, given in to a stupid idiotic crush based on nothing but physical attraction and information most likely made up of lies from interviews and gossip. He'd vowed he'd never fall for that and yet here he was, acting like a slut in a club that will put out for anyone that buys them a drink.
The first tear slid down his cheek with a tickle, carving a path that he knew more would soon follow. His eyes took in the astonished and shocked faces of those around him, already picturing the thoughts that were running through their heads, and he hurriedly pushed open the door with a shove and stumbled through it into the relative safety of his room. The IV frame was thankfully within reach and once it was inside with him he put his back to the door and slammed it shut, clicking the lock and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, injured leg stretched out in front of him. He let himself cry then, carefully muffling as many of the sobs as he could, aware that on the other side of the door they could still probably hear him.
He was such a moron, and he slammed the palm of his hand into his forehead in anger repeatedly, hoping the pain would distract him from the fact that eventually he'd have to face the people out there. No doubt rumours were probably already starting to flow. Without the jacket that now covered his shoulders there would have been no mistaking the uniform Johnny wore. Someone was probably already on the phone to the tabloids looking to make some quick money. He didn't understand what game he'd just been the victim of, but he knew he'd lost it. He could already imagine the looks and comments he was going to get about it, the snide remarks and lewd suggestions. 'Whore', 'slut' and 'fag' were only the tips of the iceberg. He'd never be able to meet anyone again without them knowing what just happened, and he'd be labelled as an easy lay faster than he could blink. Not to mention the potential beatings he'd get from straight fans for doing something so disgusting to their hero. No one would believe that it had been the other man who'd started it; no one would believe that he hadn't been trying to seduce him. Everyone would think he had spread his legs like a cheap trick in a back alley, so he could tell everyone he'd slept with Johnny Storm.
That wasn't the worst though. The worst part was that he almost had. He had no doubt that, had the situation been a little different, if someone hadn't dropped whatever it was that woke him up, he'd have done whatever it was the Torch wanted of him. That knowledge shamed him more than any insult he'd get from anyone else. He'd always been more interested in meeting someone that he liked and had a future with than a cheap one night thing. He'd always derided and looked down his nose at those that did, giving away their bodies as though it was a buffet for men to sample from. But now he knew he was as bad as they were.
His parents had always considered him grown up about it, told him they were proud of the fact that he hadn't allowed himself to give in to that scene. They'd had enough difficulty adapting to the fact that their son was gay at first, without him bringing home a different man every night, or disappearing out to clubs and bars dressed like a tramp. Their disappointment would be as sharp and shameful as his own. They wouldn't say it to him of course, they wouldn't judge him for it, and they'd be sympathetic and understanding once he explained it to them, but that knowledge would be there all the same, buried deep down. He'd failed both them and himself, and he somehow felt lessened because of that.
He'd been so careful, so particular with everyone he'd gone out with, a list that only included five people to date. He'd never done the sleeping around, even when he'd been in school, especially since an all boys private college was not the place to announce that you were gay. Like all big secrets the truth had still eventually come out, a final year full of beatings, pranks and torments that more than anything had told him he needed to be careful and discreet. It was a policy he'd continued to cultivate in university, where he'd had his first boyfriend, and had done so well that not even his roommate was quite certain of his sexual orientation.
And now the world would know.
And just like the women he'd seen smeared across the magazine covers, hanging like eye candy off the Human Torch's arms, the world would label him a slut.
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He didn't know why he'd done it really. It had been a spur of the moment thing that had just happened without any real conscious thought. He knew he was attracted to the guy, that had been the reason for his panic and confusion earlier after all, but still it was something of a shock to find himself leaning forward and kissing the other boy. He'd just given him the jacket cos he'd shivered, he was just being polite. Ok so that was a little bit of a lie. He'd felt the softness of that lightly tanned skin under his hands as he'd caught the man when he'd fallen, felt the slight shudder and intake of breath when he'd spoken in the other's ear. He'd wanted to feel that again, a test for himself maybe to see what would happen.
When that slim hand had reached to touch his arm he'd tensed in anticipation, cursing himself mentally when the boy had interpreted it as revulsion or reluctance about his touch. He couldn't blame him, after what had happened earlier. So when the guy had pretended he'd just been going to wrap his arm around himself from the cold he'd taken the opportunity to be both gallant and selfish. It was something of a power trip to know that he could just as easily affect men as well as women, that had he met this man in a bar somewhere he might have easily taken him home. But as he'd pressed his lips against soft, slightly cool ones it had caught him by surprise. The other person was supposed to make the first move, that was how it worked.
He'd seen the attraction there, felt the shivers and seen the blushes and furtive stares. But when he'd brushed his hand across that incredibly soft cheek and heard that bare whisper of a gasp, he'd been lost. He'd felt the effect he had on the boy, felt as his body started to tremble, wrapping his hands around a slim waist to stop him falling. The way brilliant green eyes had shot open to stare into his had undone him again, staring into a colour that seemed to deep and too vibrant to exist in nature.
He'd also seen the panic and the sadness swimming in them, as though their owner didn't want to do this but didn't have the strength to fight it. He'd wanted to drive that look away until there was nothing but lust or arousal, not liking the way it made him feel unsure and nervous about what he was doing. He'd caressing the closed lips with his tongue until they had opened to give him access, the eyes sliding closed and freeing him from the look that made him want to stop and apologise. The body had become almost a dead weight then, a gasp that prompted him to press them back against the solidity of the wall, his hands fluttering with feather touches up slim hips and sides. The moan that flowed forth at his action was almost enough to make him flame on, the sound like a surge of power through his veins, something that he'd never felt with any of the women he'd been with before.
But then everything had gone to hell.
The panic and sadness he'd seen in those moist eyes as the door had been slammed in his face had felt like a knife in his guts. Sure he'd been knocked back before; admittedly not since he'd become the Human Torch, but it was hardly the first time someone had refused him. So then why had it hurt so much? If someone wasn't interested when he'd been at a club he knew there'd be plenty more who were, and since his transformation he didn't even need to go looking, just sit around and wait for them to come to him.
It had been the betrayal though, that look of hurt. As though he'd taken advantage of the other guy and soiled him somehow. He wasn't used to that look. Most women knew he was only going to be a one off thing and they were happy enough with that, something they could brag to their friends about. Some thought maybe they were the one who would capture his heart, but they were quickly disabused of that notion. Women after something more than a one night stand knew better than to come after him, so he'd never run into that situation before.
He wanted to bang his head against the wall in frustration. He'd come here to apologise to the guy for burning him and being rude and instead had only made things a million times worse. He could hear the faint sounds of heavy breathing and hitched breath that indicated crying just on the other side of the door. He raised his hand to knock, hoping he'd somehow be able to talk his way inside so he could apologise yet again, but abruptly became aware of the eerie stillness that filled the corridor. He turned around and noticed the groups of people staring at him as they went about their business. It was like someone had put a sign up at each end of the hall telling people to be quiet so they could come by and gawk at him. He growled softly under his breath and turned down the corridor and stalked away. He wasn't going to make another scene with everyone watching him.
As soon as he turned the corner and was out of sight of most of the people he ducked into an unoccupied room, closing the door behind him and striding over to the window. It was fastened closed with a key but a quick jet of flame slagged the lock and allowed him to slide it open. He leapt up onto the windowsill, trying to count back to the room he needed to get to before jumping out and igniting, his tattered track pants turned to ash. The window he was heading to was securely closed in the same manner as the one he'd emerged from, but another burst of fire melted it just as easily, as well as some of the glass. His hand left dents as he slid it open, the flame that writhed his body making it soft as putty. The boy was staring at him in astonishment as he set down on the floor, the flame disappearing as swiftly as it came.
There was a struggle as the other occupant attempted to get to his feet, seemingly trying to prop himself up with the IV, stand on his injured leg and wipe away the tears on his face at the same time. Johnny went over to help him, but stopped halfway there at the defiant look directed at him from the corner of those eyes.
"I can do it myself thanks. I don't need your help, or your pity." The green orbs that seemed to convey every emotion behind them flashed angrily at him.
"Look I didn't come here to cause trouble, I just wanted to talk." His answer at first was a bitter laugh, the other boy finally managing to stand upright on his feet, one hand gripping the door handle while the other had a white knuckled grasp on the metal pole. The jacket he'd placed around those shoulders hung open, only just staying on, the slim but defined body beneath it exposed for his notice.
"So talk then. I'm sure I can't wait to hear what you have to say. Come to tell me how sorry you are for the little gay boy? How terribly you acted and how you'd love to make it all up to me? How it would make you feel so much better if I'd let you buy my dinner?" The sarcasm was so vicious, so biting and full of hatred, that it almost made him flinch.
"And if we just happened to end up back at your place, and just happened to end up in bed together, and you just happened to fuck me, well you'd really feel sorry about that too wouldn't you? I'm sure you'd be absolutely filled with remorse as you notched another mark onto your bedpost." He felt his own anger stir like embers prodded with a poker. His eyes narrowed as his hands curled into fists, not sure however whether the colour rising in his cheeks was from his rage, or the mental images that his mind had conjured at the idea of this man naked on a bed before him.
"Hey look, I know I didn't make the best first, or second, impression, but I came to tell you I'm sorry. That should count for something. I didn't mean for what just happened in the corridor to occur, it's not like I planned it or anything, it was an accident." Green eyes flinched slightly as though they'd been hit, some of the anger leeching out as those still slightly swollen lips curled into a sneer of loathing, surprisingly directed more at the boy rather than himself.
"Yeah I figured that. So does that excuse work on the women you sleep with when you throw them out in the morning?" His eyes must have spat flame towards the guy at his statement, and he stalked angrily across the room as his rage won out over caution. If the guy wanted to play it rude and nasty he could do that to, he was here to be nice; he didn't need to take this shit. His fists were stiff at his sides and he was prepared to verbally tear the other man a new one. As he looked down from his slightly superior height however he saw an overwhelming fear that raged like a storm in those eyes, as the injured boy pressed back against the firmness of the door. A fear that made the shorter man's words tremble.
"Tell me, what's it like to know you can do anything you want? Have anyone you want? And never have to worry about what other people think. Does it make you feel big? Powerful? Important? Are you gonna hit me? I'm sure you'd get away with it, it'd only be my word against yours and who do you think they'd believe? Hell after the display in the hallway every newspaper and magazine in the world will be talking about how I'm the gay boy that tried to seduce the Human Torch. If they could add that I was claiming I'd been hit by him too they'd be screaming about how much money I was trying to extort from you." The guy's eyes kept flicking back and forth between his clenched fists and his face, as though he honestly expected Johnny to hit him. There was something else buried in his eyes and face though that said he felt like he deserved to be hit, wanted Johnny to strike out at him, a guilt that wanted to be punished.
"It's not like any of the shit that gets stirred up is going to stick to you anyway. You're Johnny Storm, member of the worlds most loved supergroup. All it would take would be for Mr Fantastic and your sister to stand beside you and you'd get off without a mark. You could go right back to your womanising and partying, everyone calling you charming and exciting, while I go back home to cries of slut and whore. Hell they're probably already saying that right outside the door. Why don't you make it convincing for them? Give me a black eye, I'm sure the papers would love that." Johnny staggered away from him until his legs hit the room's small bed, needing to put distance back between them, his gaze trapped by anger and agony filled emeralds. The guy was too small to really hurt him, but he suddenly felt afraid of those glittering eyes.
"I'm not going to hit you man. Shit, what sort of guy do you think I am? No one's going to think any of those things about you." That bitter laugh filled the room again, the light brown skin of the exposed abdomen tensing with insincere mirth.
"You have no real idea what it's like being gay in this world, do you? Hell I'd never even seen a credible story that you would ever look at another guy, so I don't think you need to worry much. Most gay men are just as happy to have sex with a complete stranger as look for a relationship. Do you have any concept of what it's like to have your friends and family think you're sleeping with any man with two legs? That you're sucking off the whole school football team because that's what gay boys do? Do you know how hard it was for me to get above that? At work, at home, with friends? To hear people stop talking about their girlfriends or sex when you're in the room because they're embarrassed? Or to read a newspaper story about a gay bathhouse being raided for drugs and then seeing the look on your mother's face as your aunt calls her to point out what her son's lifestyle will lead to? I don't want a quick fuck that I'll never see again, I want someone who's going to be there with me and look after me. Your 'accident' might be nothing for you, but it will be headline news across the globe within an hour. Chances are I'm gonna get photographed before I leave the hospital by some eager journalist, or they'll dig up my uni photo or passport, and my picture is going to be plastered right there beside yours. Everyone knows your reputation and that your interest burns out within a night or two, and they're going to assume the same thing about me." His eyes dropped away, freeing Johnny from their hold as the hand holding the doorknob tugged the jacket tighter around the guy's bare frame, blocking the stretch of skin from his view. The voice got a little softer, most of the anger vented now, and Johnny hated the dead tone that had replaced it. The desire to comfort the figure in front of him swelled again, a sensation he still didn't completely understand.
"That'll be what everyone remembers about me now. At a party, or a gathering, even friends and relatives, I'll be 'hey, aren't you the guy who slept with Johnny Storm?'" The hand that held the IV trembled slightly as black hair slid in front of the man's face. This time the laugh was tinged with hysteria.
"Why the fuck am I wasting my breath? You know what? Fine, I accept your apology. Thank you for going out of your way to come down here and see me. I'd like you to leave now." The free hand went to reach for the lock but Johnny crossed the room in two steps, seizing the arm and pulling it away from the door. He gently raised his left hand until he could rest it against a smooth left cheek, the face still turned away from him and hidden behind a curtain of hair. He softly turned it towards him until their eyes met.
"Look, I know I don't exactly have the best reputation, I had a lot of problems. And I understand completely that you want me to leave you alone, but please believe me. What happened out there was not a joke, it was not a publicity thing, and I did not do it in order to try and seduce you. I went through something recently that showed me just how screwed up my life was and, well, I'm trying to change that. I'd never have forced myself on you." The muscles in the arm he was holding tensed at his words and he saw pink climb the other boy's cheeks as the final traces of anger drained away.
"You wouldn't have had to. That's the problem. For all my talk about wanting to be above that, I still would have let you do whatever you wanted with me. And I hate myself for that." There was a moment of silence as Johnny tried to come up with something to say to that statement, but the other man beat him to it. His voice was almost wistful and his shoulders slumped slightly against the door.
"I don't suppose you'd understand really, and that's ok, it's just who you are. But for me it's the idea of wanting to be with someone special. I don't care about the sex; I'm not interested in just getting off. I want to meet a guy who really wants me, for more than just the physical things. I guess I just wanted to see things in you that I knew they weren't there." Johnny felt his heart speed up a little bit at the thought of having someone want him in that way. He knew that he had legions of adoring fans that drooled over him and wrote him love letters, and no doubt some of them really wanted him as a person not just as a sex symbol or wet dream. But they hadn't been at the London Eye, helping strangers out of a carriage, or touching his arm and somehow making him feel again, even if he hadn't been ready to at the time. And there was something about the way the surfer had seemed to approve of this boy who had been about to die below, almost as if the whole scene had somehow been set up in order to make it necessary to save him. The green eyes looked away uncomfortably at his penetrating stare, obviously wondering why he didn't respond to the comments, the voice downcast as though he thought he'd said something wrong.
"I'm sorry I caused a scene, but like I said, no one will blame you for it. They'll probably just assume an over eager gay fan decided to make a move. We wouldn't want to ruin that playboy image of yours now would we?" The laugh then was like a thin veneer over the hysteria beneath, as though he knew he was being dragged to the gallows and needed to put a brave face on or else degenerate into screaming terror. Johnny couldn't hold back on his own instincts at that sound of pure need, not in the sense of the sexual need that he usually responded to, but for the first time he felt the urge to simply be there for someone without expecting anything in return.
He carefully slid his hand up the arm from where he'd been holding it and then circled it round the other boy's neck, the second arm joining the first and holding the thin form against him, his head resting on the other's hair. The wound on his chest stung where he pressed them together, the shredded material of his uniform probably stuck in it, pulling against the cut with their movement. There was a moment of stiffness as the form waited, as though for some hidden trap or surprise, but when he simply continued to hold on the muscles relaxed and almost melted perfectly against him. The feel of hands sliding across the lycra material of his suit followed not long after, the arms slowly moving until they circled his waist, the black haired head turned and pressed into his shoulder with a hesitancy that made it seem like he was asking permission. It was instinct again that made him press a kiss to the dark crown, arms tightening possessively now that they had hold and he gently nuzzled the soft strands of the shorter boy.
"Screw my image. I was sick of it anyway. I think I'd rather try and make myself a new one." The form in his arms shuddered at his whispered words and he smiled against the dark head.
"You know, in spite of all this I still never got your name." The head pressed closer to him, the hot breath ghosting across the front of his neck.
"Michael. Michael Wishart." Johnny slowly rubbed circles on Michael's back through the rough fabric of his jacket, feeling contentment mixed with arousal at being so close together.
"It's been nice to meet you Michael." He lowered his head a few inches so he could speak into the shell of the other man's ear, his voice husky and sincere as he spoke words he hadn't said to anyone since he became the Human Torch, thanking the surfer as he shed the last vestiges of the person he'd been before.
"When can I see you again?"
Fin
