ODIUM
This is essentially just porn with plot, and I am entirely unapologetic. There is a severe lack of this in this fandom and I won't stand for it any longer.
Disclaimer: I only own Riley.
Well the trick of the trouble is avoiding the blame
But the point of the struggle is in owning the shame
And nobody tells you 'till you go up in flames
You can't live like a devil then die like a saint
The first couple of times he corners her, it is at the mansion when she is a fresh recruit.
She does not want to be there. The large house is claustrophobic even if its corridors are endless and staircases grand, and she hates being confined to one space. Storm actively tries to convince her to stay, insisting that her skills can be helped while she is here and that she will have friends and people to rely on if she stays. Riley resents the implication that she needs friends, or that her skills need any help. When Logan picked her up, she was on the run for petty theft - a crime she can easily continue to get away with - but apparently the higher moral ground that the X-Men stand on does not allow robbing a convenience store for five hundred dollars worth. She does not like the constant assumption that she needs help, and this is precisely what the X-Men continue to assume of her.
She has taken care of herself long enough and can continue to do so without the help of the Professor or any of these so-called 'teachers', a point that Charles Xavier personally tries to take up with her at several points during her stay at the mansion. It drives her further away, because each time the staff of this place seem to approach her it is under the guise of help and yet all they can talk about is how much she needs them.
Riley does not need anybody.
John can sense her hesitation and latches onto it. Bobby tries to stop him on several occasions, urging him that Riley is the kind of recluse that will bite if threatened, but the pyrokinetic pokes her with a stick anyway. One day he manages to get close enough after an outdoor class without alerting her of his presence.
"Don't you think it's kind of angsty?" He leans up against the wall where she is smoking, grey eyes scanning the rolling grounds of the mansion.
Riley isn't sure which he is talking about; her smoking or her umbrakinesis, but she wrinkles her nose up at him either way and cloaks herself in shadows in response. This is usually enough to make any of the other kids go away, but John merely grins at her reaction upon realizing how easy it is to push her buttons. The umbral clouds take up little space, but they shield her so effectively that he cannot make out any humanoid form beneath them. For all he knows he is talking to a wall now, but he knows Riley is in there.
"Aw, I'm sorry – hey, I didn't mean to offend," His tone is sarcastic and cruel as he ignites a small ball of fire and attempts to expose her, making the flame dance into the heart of her shadows. She shifts further away from him towards the wall, the shadows moving with her. "Come out and I'll play nice."
"John, stop antagonizing." Rogue urges from a couple meters away where she and Bobby are waiting, school books still clutched to their chests, and John's eyeballs roll so hard he swears he can feel them hit the back of his head.
"What, I can't play with the other kids?" He retorts over his shoulder, "I gotta force myself to watch you and Drake play mommy and daddy?"
Ever the producer of endless bad ideas, his brain prompts him with a new one and he swivels his gaze back around to where the shadows are even thicker in front of him now. "How does that sound, doll? Why don't you call me daddy and we'll be even?"
His tough smirk is broken by a sharp crack as her shadows immediately dematerialize and she slaps him so hard his ears ring, making Rogue gasp. It all happens too fast to process, but he gradually decides that he likes the touch of her skin against his and that if a slap is all she wants to give for now, then he is more than willing to take it. He's always preferred a little rough play, and a girl with a fight in her is endearingly attractive. It helps that she is just his type, too; a tiny little spitfire with dark, good looks and striking features.
"Fuck you." Riley sneers, looking like she wants to spit at him.
"That's the idea, sweetheart," Finally able to see her, John recovers from his stinging cheek nicely and twists his mouth into a dastardly smirk. "Is it my turn yet?"
"You're a sick fuck." She's all acid and venom, eager to spit and claw while he drags her down to hell with him. He can't wait to get her there.
His lighter is out now, clinking back and forth methodically, but she has not left yet. If she truly was not interested, he maintains, she would have left at the first sign of trouble, but she is still unexposed in front of him, finishing her cigarette and attempting to ignore his presence.
His response is delayed as he takes in her features, sharp and pixie-like. With her dark hair and grey eyes, she truly does seem like she just waltzed out of the shadows, but John knows how to find her, now.
"You have no idea."
Her eyes slant to his at that, a flash of curiosity bursting through them like lightning before it disappears and she scoffs, quick to hide any reaction he may have driven out of her. She tosses the finished butt to the ground and stubs at it with her toe, going to push past him with a hefty glare meant to decimate anyone on the spot. It gets Rogue and Bobby out of her way before she is even in their vicinity, but Riley is forced to shoulder check the pyrokinetic when he doesn't move. He is annoying and disrespectful, but damn it all to hell if he she doesn't find him attractive. She's always had a thing for dirty talk; this is so unfair.
The second time he corners her, they are alone in the library and he has been watching her read for over an hour, waiting for the other kids to clear the area so he can speak to her in peace without anyone breathing down his neck.
She sits so still he cannot believe it; he has never seen anyone go unmoving for such long periods of time before. For entire ten-minute intervals she does nothing but blink and at some points he cocks his head to double check that she is still breathing, only to find that yes, there are shallow breaths being taken between each couple of sentences her eyes move across.
As the last student leaves, he is finally able to get up and approach her, though she does not look up from her bundled position near one of the windows. She is flexible, that much he can discern from the ways she sits in class and how comfortable she can get in such ridiculous positions. Sometimes when they have class outside, she splays her legs straight in the grass with her notes on the ground ahead of her, leaning forwards into an almost-split that makes his dick twitch and his balls kind of hurt at the sight. He can't decide if it's sexy or painful to watch.
This time she is merely curled up into a tight little ball with a physiology textbook in front of her, huffing slightly when he leans over her window seat to brace his arm against the wall and steal a glance at what she is studying. Something about gene expression crosses his vision – he doesn't really pay attention in Dr. Grey's class – but it is her reaction that he prefers reading.
"What do you want, asshole?" Her husky tone is hostile, making him smile in self-gratification. He loves grating on people's nerves.
"God – you're even hotter when you're pissed off," John confesses, lighter already clinking away in one hand while the other rests on the wall above her, effectively trapping her in. She shoots him a very unamused glance. "What, I can't further my education?"
"Not here," She gripes, glaring at the lighter in his hand before returning the venomous expression to his face. "Go play nice with the other kids."
The use of his own words against him has him releasing a huff of laughter, but he stays put and flicks the Zippo even harder, hoping to evoke a reaction out of her. They read a bit more in silence, to his surprise, and he manages to pay attention to the words on the paper long enough to absorb something about evolution jumping forward every hundred years before he manages to get to her with a particularly excitatory clink of the metal.
"Seriously?" The muscle in her jaw is straining at the effort it takes not to smack him again.
He feigns ignorance. "What?"
"What do you mean, 'what'?" She imitates his deeper voice in the most ridiculous way she can, motioning to his lighter.
Sarcasm is one of his strongest suits and he plays it well, stoking the anger that is beginning to bubble inside her. He lifts his brows in innocence. "I'm sorry princess, is this annoying you?"
It takes a deep breath that he relishes in for her to ease herself, but she goes back to reading with a dangerous exhale through her nostrils. He grins sadistically, eager to see how many reactions he can get out of her in a day, and continues to flick the lighter in his right hand. To her credit she is able to withstand another several minutes of this while she flips a page nonchalantly and pretends like he isn't there, but when he starts to ignite the flame in between clicks she cannot stand it anymore.
"I swear to God, you f-"
"You seem really tense, can I help you out with that?" John interrupts her rudely and pretends to scrutinize her, watching her mouth fall open indignantly as she tries to process his behavior and words at the same time. He would almost believe her fury if it were not for the light blush dusting her cheeks, revealing some sort of truth to this assumption.
"What the fuck is your fucking problem?" She whisper-shouts as her hackles raise, ready for a fight. She is much more respectful of the library rules than he, but there are no other students here at the moment and he really does not care to lower his tone. "I thought your name was Saint John – you seem more like a demon to me."
"Maybe I am," He raises his brows and smiles cruelly at her, unfazed by her knowledge of his birth name and still determined to get the upper hand here. "Maybe I fell from heaven."
She snorts comically, eyeing him up and down. "Sure…"
"What, I don't look like I could be an angel?" He spreads both his arms as if they are wings, displaying himself for her.
Riley's eyes inevitably fall to where his shirt has ridden up some to expose his lower abdomen and she gulps as she retracts her vision instantly, but it is too late. He has seen the appreciative look in her eyes that people get when they find someone attractive; that telltale droop in her eyelids that puts everything into perspective real fast. She tries to hide it with a snide remark, but he beats her to the punch.
"Aw, so you do like what you see!" John refuses to let her get away with it and she feels even more trapped than she actually is, unable to get away with either her powers or her words. "Admit it, cupcake."
It is then that she stands, silently gathering her things while he watches her with his arms crossed, all smug and collected. Riley hates him for that, because it isn't fair that she hasn't gotten laid in nearly a year and is so tightly wound she could snap, while he has all the confidence and sexual prowess in the world. She wants to kick him, but that would only make his arrogance grow to new extremes.
"You're not a Saint, or an angel," She spits, clutching her textbook to her chest as she makes to leave. "You're an annoying little demon."
He finally gets up real close and personal to her then, jutting a hand out on the wall to stop her from getting away and leaning in to whisper in her ear. She has the opportunity to push him away but doesn't do so, though after he speaks, she concludes that she should have just thrown him into a garbage can the minute she met him the first time if she wanted to avoid any of this.
"Have you ever fucked a demon?"
This boy is going to be the death of her.
Has he been reading her kinks in some kind of playbook that one can find on google, or are they really that sexually compatible that he knows exactly what to say to turn her on? Or perhaps, through the grace of God – ironically enough – they actually do have the same interests, and he has realized this and capitalized on it. The truth is somewhere between these three options, but she cannot think logically for the sake of her right now because there is a pulse in her abdomen that she knows comes only from being spoken to like he is speaking with her.
Her stuttered staccato of breaths are enough of an answer for John, and he slinks away with a smile while she fumes in silence. "That's what I thought."
The third time he corners her it is entirely by accident.
She is eating ice cream at four AM in the kitchen, dressed only in boy shorts and a tank top to combat the summer heat, and he cannot believe his luck. Truthfully, he came downstairs to scrounge around the cabinets for a bottle opener he can steal and keep in his room, but when he spots her, he grins darkly.
There is no way he is letting her leave the room without getting to feel her thighs on his skin. She is leaning with her elbows forward on the countertop, and he can see nearly every lithe inch on her, down to where the swell of her breast begins and the curve of her ass ends.
"Oh, God." She makes a face and groans in displeasure when he shows up, already rolling her eyes.
"You don't have to call me God, honey." He continues to smile at her discomfort and roots around the fridge for a bottle of water.
At this, she quiets and rubs her thighs together nervously. All the pet names are killing her, lapping at their ever-growing tension like shifting tectonic plates that will eventually lead to an enormous wave. The little touches are driving her insane, too – all month he has been shifting her out of the way with a gentle hand on her waist or a touch on her lower back, making sure to make his dominant stature apparent to her. It isn't enough for her to freak out at him, but it is enough to make his presence known and get her feathers ruffled. He knows how much it affects her too, because sometimes he grips down slightly – not enough to bruise, but just enough to leave her wanting more – and the following twitch of his lips as she looks up at him in mirth gives it all away.
"You like sweets?"
She is distracted from her mental reverie when he juts his chin out towards the ice cream she is eating, and she spears the smooth mint chip with a spoon while she glares.
"If this is gonna turn into some dirty conversation about how I'm 'sweeter than candy', you can just drop it already." Riley growls as she flings some of the ice cream at him, only to have him dodge the dessert at the last second and watch it land on the wall behind him.
"You made a mess," John points accusatorily and turns back around, quickly losing track of what he was going to say as he continues to watch her eat. "I'm not cleaning it up."
"Oops." She takes more ice cream into her mouth and suckles at the spoon, frowning over at him as he keeps his eyes trained on her.
It is true that phallic shaped foods often cause a reaction in most men when an attractive woman is consuming them, but he can't help but believe that the way she is eating in front of him is purposeful. Her intake of the food is less like bites and more like sucks of a lollipop, creating a surge of images in his head that he prefers to pull out only when he is alone in the shower. Maybe he is wrong and she isn't doing it for his benefit, but he continues to watch her acutely either way to gauge a reaction.
He finds his voice again after a few moments of silence, taking pleasure in how she squirms underneath his gaze. "And if you'd let me finish, you woulda found out what I was gonna say."
"I don't wanna find out what you were gonna say!" Riley's eyes flash as her stubbornness shows and he feels a tug in his lower stomach, revelling in the way her face contorts in frustration. He loves this side of her.
"Well too bad, sweetheart," He splays both hands on the countertop, smiling in that stupid way that makes her chest swoop. "Candy's meant to be eaten."
"That's literally so much worse of a line than what I thought it would be," She scowls at the poor pick up phrase and goes to cap the ice cream, walking past him to pull out the freezer. "You suck."
He can smell the remnants of her perfume as she walks by him, dewy and sweet, and is unable to help himself as he teases her while openly ogling her ass. She is fit and tight in all the right places and it makes him drool every time she shows a bit of skin. He swears that last time they had rec time outside in the lot he did nothing but watch her as she performed her stretches near the treeline, unable to focus on whatever inane conversation Bobby and Rogue were trying to loop him into that day.
"'I suck' what?"
"Oh, for fucks sakes," She straightens, rolls her eyes and tries to move past him to the door, glaring when he won't budge. "Move, John."
His name on her lips does funny things to his insides, and he genuinely smirks when he splays a large hand on her stomach to stop her from moving. "No – seriously, tell me. What am I sucking on?"
It is the worst attempt at flirting that she has ever encountered, possibly because his point is not to actually flirt with her but to aggravate her. Amidst the stupid quips and little flirty comments, there is baseline attraction that is necessary for this to work as well as about ten layers of added frustration – both regular and sexual – that make it more tense. It is a tactic she has never seen before, but it's working, and she hates him for that. She has been at Xavier's for two months now with no end in sight to her dry spell, and now she is seriously starting to get pissed off that this guy hasn't taken her for a ride yet but insists on taking the piss out on her every chance he gets.
The mood shifts abruptly when Riley suddenly acknowledges his body language, domineering and physically overpowering. He could easily hurt her if he wanted to, and it would take a bit before anyone would respond to her cries for help, but she doesn't think that this is his intention. She watches his eyes as they make a trail down from her eyes to her lips, neck, collarbones and all the way down the rest of her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, if there is a source of good in this world that perhaps she will be allowed to keep some of whatever this untameable feeling is inside of her that she gets when he looks at her like that.
Riley can smell him and the aftershave he uses, a heady mix of woodsy air, freshly cut grass, mint and a hint of pine. She looks down at his hand on her stomach and back up at him, unable to make any other noise other than a mewl of need. She has never felt this way before, and John seems to understand this instantly. He lets out a 'tsk' of pity at her state before swiping at her lower lip with his thumb, like he is clearing the runway before he descends down on her like a vulture.
If Riley didn't know any better, she would believe John's demonic claims, because it feels like a succubus is sucking the soul out of her when his lips finally land on hers. She doesn't know where he picked up exactly how to kiss like this, but it feels like it should be illegal. His tongue doesn't have to ask permission for her mouth to open, because she's practically gone pliant and limp in his arms the minute he touches her lips and he is devouring any part of her that he can reach this way. Any movement she makes is countered perfectly and then some by his own tongue, scooping up the remains of her soul and practically feeding them back into her. She doesn't realize how short of breath she is until he grips her by the hips and deposits her onto the countertop, stealing her mouth again when she goes to card her fingers through his hair. Things start to get heavy very fast.
From where she sits, she is finally at the same height as he is, but she still feels dwarfed by his actions and attitude. It is what she likes best so she does not protest, merely going to grab at his shirt in a desperate attempt to ground herself to something while he continues to make her silly with want. His tongue is fucking with her head, she thinks, because she cannot think straight and there is a pulsing in her lower abdomen that makes her feel like a feline in heat rather than the mutant that she is.
John slants himself up against her, letting her feel the effect she has on him. It is everything she wants and needs and Riley suddenly cannot wait any longer, crying out wordlessly for him to give her something.
"You feel that?" He maintains, gripping her chin harshly and forcing eye contact as he pulls away from her, suddenly asking for attention and awareness.
She groans, trying to recentre herself and answer the question, but all she manages to get out is a nod. This seems to be good enough, because he resumes kissing her swollen lips and slips his tongue back inside without hesitation, driving her dizzy. It is too short of session before he breaks off again, tampering off a groan of his own when he squeezes her side harshly and goes to whisper against her.
"Every fucking night, Riley – that's what you do to me."
The girl in question gasps at the confession, almost out of pain when he pushes himself up against her again and grips the back of her head to swallow her sounds. She nips his tongue this time, gently at first, and he responds in kind by gathering her long black hair up in a nape and tugging at it. She moans harshly at that, wilting in his arms. It makes him smirk and laugh against her mouth, like he could guess that she had a thing for hair pulling, and she doesn't mind the sinister edge to his laughter. She doesn't mind relinquishing all the control she has to this boy, not if he keeps doing whatever it is he is doing. How does he know exactly how to touch her?
For now, his hands have been exploring her thighs the skin there steadily before moving onto her nipples, pinching them hard enough for her to whine out desperately, but now he makes his way to the apex of her thighs. It makes her breath hitch something fierce and suddenly-
Oh.
"I knew you'd be a little brat," He's got two fingers inside of her before she can properly inhale, mouth melting itself into a perfect O at the feeling of him touching her – actually touching her like she imagines every night when she touches herself to relieve some of this pressure. "fucking hell."
He leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on her jaw and down her neck, nipping harshly at her collarbone when she lets out a moan far too loud. His fingers are deliciously thick inside of her, yet long enough that when they curl, they hit the spongy spot inside of her that she has trouble reaching herself.
"Oh my God, John – please," She is unable to formulate even a proper sentence, head reeling from his onslaught as he grinds the palm of his hand against her poor, throbbing clit. "I…f-fffuck."
"I got you," He coos at her with a sincere murmur, gripping the back of her neck so that she remains slack-jawed and open against him. "Jesus - do you know how tight you are? Feels like a fucking vice."
She wails at that, the noise only tapered off by John's own lips when he inserts his tongue back in her mouth to quiet her. His fingers continue to work her like a machine, slick coating them as he pushes her towards a peak. She imagines that the three-month-long buildup and copious amounts of sexual tension helps, because while she would not usually be able to come like this, she is shocked to find herself very close to falling over that edge. He is pressing against her g-spot incessantly and the sensations of him invading all of her senses leaves her rather helpless against his onslaught.
"I can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart," She never thought she would see the day that a guy calling her sweetheart would turn her on, but here she is being fingered six ways 'till Sunday while John dirty talks her into oblivion, somehow adding a romantic twist to it that melts her frigid heart. "Feel good?"
"Yes!" Riley cries against his mouth, temperature so high she is certain that she is burning up, even against his own skin. Pyro runs hotter than most.
Against all her wishes he suddenly begins to remove his hand, and she finds herself wailing in despair when he takes them out of her completely and goes to take her shorts off, too. He has to shush her carefully as he goes to cradle her head and kiss her again, distracting her enough so that she doesn't expect what is coming next at all.
"Oh, fuck," There aren't really any other words. "There's no way that's gonna fit."
He laughs, kissing her again. His cock is long and thick - and absolutely too much to fit in her all at once, she thinks, because it's been so long since she's done this and there is no way that he is possibly this well endowed - but he coddles her and feeds her every inch while talking her through it.
"I've got you…it's okay – yeah, just like that, you've got it."
Riley never thought she would see the day where she went cock-dumb, but this is it. She's speared on fucking John Allerdyce's dick in the kitchen of Xavier's mansion where anybody could walk in at any moment, and she could not give less of a fuck as long as the boy inside of her keeps moving. To his credit he gives her a moment to adjust when she has taken him all, capturing her lolling head and dragging her in for another searing kiss. It feels like eons before Riley's head is back on her own shoulders, but her partner's next revelation almost kills her.
"Fuck – look at that." John makes that 'tsk' sound again and her mouth dries up, following his gaze to where they are connected. "You see that?"
There is a slight indent in her pelvis where she can see a subtle bump of what is obviously his cock inside of her, forcing a whine and a clench out of her that he can apparently feel quite keenly, because he grunts and holds her thighs a little tighter.
"Filled you right up, didn't I?" He's smug now, looking down at her where she is laid out on the counter. They will have to disinfect everything when they are through, Riley thinks. "I knew I could shut you up."
Her head tilts back again as a tapered groan eases its way out of her lips like molasses, unable to help it at his tone of voice and his fucking cock inside of her. It is nothing at all compared to the pleasure of when he begins to move, starting out slow. At first there is pain, as always when she is with people of his size, but it quickly blooms to pleasure when he tugs her closer to the edge of the counter and folds her leg up and out, holding it below the knee so that he can get deeper.
She cries out when he really begins to thrust, hitting spots inside of her that no one has hit before. The only explanation Riley has for his sexual prowess is that he must have started having sex when he was quite young, because there is no way that someone her age should be this well experienced in bed yet. She has been with a plethora of men both older and younger than her, but none of them quite hit the nail on the head like John is doing.
Speaking of which, it is difficult to focus on one thought at a time while he is occupying every one of hers. Between teasing at her nipples and pushing down on her lower pelvis to stimulate her further – her eyes roll back in their sockets at that – she is a mess of tears and sweat beneath him, begging him for something he is already giving her. He lifts her frame and she latches herself onto him like an octopus, sucking and nipping at any surface she can find while he swears from the sensations.
"Holy shit," John is breathless as he continues, never letting up his steady pace. It is their first time, so he doesn't want to be too rough. He wants her to feel it and to remember it well, but he is finding it really hard not to go any faster. Her pussy is like liquid gold; warm, tight, slippery velvet squeezing him dry. "You have no idea how good you feel."
She responds with a quiet cry of his name buried in his neck like a promise, easing a shudder out of him.
One of his hands stays cradling her head while the other drops to circle her clit with a thumb, the steady rotation nearly making her shriek in delight. In an effort to silence her John lets her balance herself out with two arms on the countertop behind her and sticks his other thumb in her mouth, effectively shutting her up as she suckles on it and gazes up at him with her heady grey eyes. It almost makes him lose it, but when he feels her start to squeeze down hard in even waves around him, he knows she is almost there and he manages to keep it together.
With no warning at all, John shoves her over the precipice of oblivion with one timely placed hickey behind her ear and another firmly placed thrust. Colours explode behind her eyes as she clenches them shut and comes so hard, she swears she can see planets align, mouth frozen open as a gasp tumbles from her lips. It feels like the air has been punched out of her and she is flooded with serotonin, giving her that familiar lovey-dovey feeling that makes the world all wonderful and gooey for a couple minutes.
"That's it, fuck – you feel so fucking good, honey," John talks her through what is possibly the hottest orgasm of her life in a way that no man has ever spoken to her before, rendering her absolutely speechless. "Just like that, clench down on my dick - fuck."
He succumbs to the clamping around him seconds later, cumming hard and painting her insides white before burying his head in her neck where he muffles a groan.
She didn't know she had a praise kink – she usually hates when guys call her a 'good girl' or whatever smarmy shit is current nowadays – but John has managed to reduce her to a sopping, babbling puddle without a single cringey sentence and for that, she is grateful. Perhaps not the kind of grateful that arises out of respect for another person, but she appreciates him all the same when she awakes the next morning in her own bed. The only conclusion she can reach on her own is she somehow must have passed out after cumming hard enough to see stars, and that John must have wallowed in his smugness for long enough before depositing her in her dorm room.
Her guess is confirmed when she spots a sticky note next to her bed that reads 'haha – I made you cum so hard you literally passed out, I win', and a smile graces her lips before she falls back asleep.