STATERA
Disclaimer: I own nothing but Riley.
More porn, not sorry.
I've got no soul
Live in a hole I dug
And I'll fall apart
If I don't get it
Oh, I'm sewing the patches right onto my skin
I'm counting the dollars to buy me out
When the mansion is invaded, he doesn't get to her in time.
John doesn't necessarily blame himself. She had been looking for a solid reason to disappear for awhile. He prides himself that while he might be the reason why she stayed a bit longer, there was ultimately no keeping her, especially not when the military invaded what was supposed to be a safe space for mutants. It is unfortunate, but John tries not to create solid attachments to his heart, so he ignores the sting while Logan drives him, Bobby and Rogue to Boston. He tries to focus on the fact that they all nearly just fucking died and that he is lucky to be alive rather than losing a fuck buddy, but even he can't deny that she meant more to him than that. They had been fooling around for awhile.
"D'you think Riley got out safe?" Rogue murmurs to the two boys from the front seat about an hour into their trip, careful not to lock eyes with John while Bobby reassures her.
"That kid was a loose cannon." Logan mutters from the driver's seat, figuring that he knows enough to chime in. He isn't wrong, but no one responds to him.
John knows it is highly probable that she is safe. Her shadows cover her tracks well and make her very difficult to spot at night. Besides, she never fully unpacked during her entire stay at the mansion. He tells himself that she was probably out the door and ready to go at the first sign of trouble, but despite all his self reassurances, he still can't ignore the anxiety sitting in his chest. There is a very slim chance she was taken, but he will find out soon enough if they meet up with Storm and Jean in Boston, so he calms himself. He is not a patient person, but he resigns himself to wait and hope for the time being.
By some strange series of events – involving a severely disappointed Drake family, a squadron of torched cop cars, nearly plummeting to his death in the X-Jet, almost-invading a military base at Alkali lake and subsequently coming close to the worst pain he'd ever felt thanks to a rewired Cerebro – he manages to find himself under the wing of Magneto and Mystique and he never does seem to find out if Riley made it out safe.
He ends up feeling a lot of guilt over not going back for her or at least prompting Logan to mention her name to Jean and Storm, but he manages to distract himself with his new responsibilities. It is unsurprising to him that he finds himself more at home with the Brotherhood's ideals than those held at Xavier's, because he has always resented humans and their discrimination against mutants (and yeah, maybe he's a little biased because his own family tossed him out the door at thirteen and left him to fend for himself, but what does that matter?). Magneto has got a point when he talks about mutant superiority, and Pyro quickly falls into step as the third in command.
Then, a 'cure' is announced and everything changes again. A major pharmaceutical company comes out with a vaccine to suppress the mutant gene, citing it as a 'major breakthrough' that is apparently voluntary, but the government loads it into guns all the same as they buy out all major stocks and keep it as a bioweapon against potential threats against humanity. It makes him sick, and so do all of the mutants lining the streets near various clinics waiting to get the shot. He thinks of Rogue, who is undoubtedly in one of those lines, and grimaces. He then thinks of Riley and hopes that she is not stupid enough to do the same if she is still alive, but he knows deep down inside that she has never hated her powers like Rogue has.
Mystique takes a cure bullet for Eric and Pyro suddenly becomes second in command when the metal manipulator abandons her without a second thought, which should really be concerning to him considering how close Mystique was to Eric, but John really doesn't want to overthink it because he knows he will hit some kind of uncomfortable revelation if he digs too deep. He starts to get tasked with taking out major clinics that are administering cure shots. It is at one of these takedowns – in Washington, nonetheless – that he spots Riley again for the first time, shock stopping him in his tracks when she locks eyes with him from across the street.
She is alive and apparently well, but it is clear that she has some whiff of who he is or what he does now, because she recognizes him all the same. He doesn't know what she is doing here or why, but he smiles when she turns tail and runs. He loves a good chase.
Tracking is not his job under Magneto - he leaves that to Callisto and her band of Omegas - but he can scent Riley like a dog in rut. He can tell where she has just been and when he is getting close, her shadows dematerializing as she slips through protesters like water. For a good half hour, John stalks her through the crowds of protesters until she finally grows tired and gets sloppy, allowing him to corner her in an alleyway. She dismisses the rolling blackness that surrounds her when he gets close enough, slightly out of breath and just as beautiful as the last time he saw her.
They take each other in from afar at first, either party glad to see the other alive but unwilling to admit it. The last she has seen of him was in another one of those Magneto-issued broadcasts about three weeks ago, standing behind the metal manipulator in what looked like the perfect example of an evil lair.
Before that, however, she had spent three long months believing that he could have been dead due to the attacks at Xavier's and may or may not have blamed herself for not going back and double checking. She still isn't exactly sure what had happened that fateful night at the mansion, but she is not sorry that she turned tail and ran as soon as she heard those screams. She isn't sorry that her self preservation won out over everything else because it saved her life, but she is sorry that she was not able to ensure his safety before leaving. She would be lying if she said that she hadn't spent the last few months in a state of semi-mourning for all of her acquaintances at the mansion, especially him.
"Speak of the devil." She runs her eyes over his familiar features as he stalks a little closer.
He looks good. There are changes in him, but upon closer inspection thinks that they suit him. His hair is shorter and gelled back into loose, dirty blonde spikes that scream 'delinquent adolescent' like nothing she has ever seen before, and he is wearing some kind of black contraption wrapped around his wrist that she makes a mental note to question later if she can, but knows that she will probably forget. He looks like a proper rebel with his jacket and combat boots and if she is being honest with herself, she wishes that she could take all of these clothes off of him to double check that he is still the same John underneath.
Pyro sees very little changes in Riley, other than her tits (which he swears were smaller when he saw her last but honestly, he has taken too many shots to the head to be able to trust his memory well enough to fully tell). She is still grey-eyed, black-haired, tiny little Riley, with a dangerous smirk and sharp facial features.
"Why? Are you thinkin' evil thoughts?" John is proud to pull a smirk out of her, but when she uses the momentary lapse in tension as a distraction to try and make a break for it, he is forced to glue her to the wall so that he can get some answers out of her.
He shoves a knee between her legs and uses a forearm to pin her shoulders against a brick wall, effectively trapping her until further notice. Her hands grasp at his jacket until he grips her little wrists into one of his palms, squeezing them together. She seems a bit frightened and he wonders why, before he realizes that he is the villain in this scenario and that for all he knows, she could still be working with the X-Men. He hopes that this not true; that they have not brainwashed her just yet.
"Now why-" Pyro grunts as she pushes hard against him for a moment, testing his mettle, before giving up entirely. "-would you have any reason to run from me?"
"Aren't you one of the bad guys now?" Riley questions quietly, narrowing her eyes up at him.
He frowns for a moment as he deduces that she knows about his work for Magneto. He does not make it a point to appear in the televised threats that his mentor issues, but it happens sometimes when he cannot help it.
"So?" John narrows his eyes back, not following and kind of insulted that she actually might think of him as the villain. The humans are the real enemies, with their cure and endless discrimination against mutant-kind.
"So, aren't I supposed to run?"
It's a cheeky response, but he wonders if there is any truth to it. Is she still working with the X-Men? Does she have a reason to actually run from him?
Riley can see the wheels turning in his head and sighs before giving him the truth, "I'm here alone."
"Why?" John demands, keeping his knee where it is and watching how it makes her squirm. "Why here?"
"I work nearby," She responds meekly, not divulging exactly what it is she does now and dancing around the question of what exactly she is doing in the city of Seattle in particular. "I came to pick up a cash advance."
He raises a brow at that, surprised at the notion of her working and that of a cash advance, no less. The silent question goes somewhat unanswered when she pipes up again.
"It's a good job," She sniffs, shifting uncomfortably with her back pressed against the wall, but he doesn't let up on the pressure. "pays well. I got my own place now."
"Yeah?" He finds himself suddenly very angry at her for not wanting to take part in a war that has so much to do with her, so he gets in her face. "Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but your own fucking kind is at war."
She flinches at that, staring down the alleyway where the protesters are still chanting, picketing signs bouncing in the air excitedly. She has had this conversation with herself before, but she is not a full believer in either side of the war and does not want to risk her own life, criminal career or mutation for it. She tries to put this into words, but when she looks back at John, he is already shaking his head because he has already figured out her response. He knows, instinctively, that her heart is not in any kind of fight. She is a survivor, which means she will only fight if she is backed into a corner, and this is not that case.
He is suddenly awash with the weight of several emotions.
"I thought you fucking died or something," Pyro lets go of her abruptly as if she has stung him, backing away several feet. "I-"
He doesn't like the feelings coursing through him, filling up his chest and churning in his blood. It makes it hard to talk.
"I thought the same," Riley admits with remorse, shoulders drooping before she leans back against the wall and reaches into her jacket pocket for a cigarette, pulling one out of a tin with long, black nails. She doesn't offer one to him because she knows he doesn't smoke; never has.
"I'm sorry, John." In mere seconds the entire alleyway is enveloped in a thick shadow, reminding him of how much control she has over her umbrakinesis. He almost misses her apology amidst the display, but he is more focused on his name coming out of her lips.
"Pyro." Mystique's bullshit about 'slave names' must really be getting to him if he actually just corrected Riley for using his goddamn name out loud, he thinks.
Riley raises a single, well-trimmed eyebrow. "Is that what you want me to call you when we fuck?"
And just like that, everything is forgiven and they are back to square one. He scoffs once and comes up close to her again, appreciating the nostalgic smell of lit cigarettes and her perfume. "I thought we said you were gonna call me daddy."
"Fuck no," She retorts with a soft huff of laughter, flicking her cancer stick and shaking her head. "I'm never calling you that."
Pyro leans against the wall beside her and studies her, unbelieving that he has ever thought of her as weak or fragile in the past. She may be only five foot five and tiny to boot, but she is an adept survivor if he has ever seen one, and now he wants nothing more than to shatter her for anyone else. He wants to ask her questions, too; how she has been since this whole cure thing started, if she is being safe, where she is working, living, but he is too overwhelmed by the fact that she is alive and before him that he cannot think of anything to ask her.
Instead, he takes one hand against her chin and guides her to him, dipping his mouth over hers and kissing her deeply.
Riley whines and protests that she isn't done smoking yet, but it doesn't take much convincing when she begins to get lost in sensations that she thought she would never feel again. Just a flick of his tongue against hers and she is a world away, unfinished cigarette tumbling down towards the ground.
He forces her to melt against him, one hand creeping up her body and re-familiarizing itself with her while the other lands itself on her throat, squeezing properly. He remembers when lessons at the mansion were actually useful and Logan taught them how to choke properly in self defense. John knows how to keep his grip from hurting Riley, knows how to change his grip based on whether the intent is to incapacitate or kill, and so he feels comfortable taking her by the neck and looking for the proper pressure points.
Her little whine when he gets the spot right makes the three months of uncertainty and guilt worth it. He shudders and breaks against her like the tide, pulling her back down to the deeps with him when he retreats. He remembers looking forward to the day when he would drag her down to hell with him, but when he realizes that he is actually holding and kissing her after three long months of thinking that she could be dead or worse, he supposes it is possible that they have already gone and come back.
This time around though, Pyro is quick to act. They are both starved for the same thing and he does not want to keep either of them waiting, so he lifts her by the hips and pins her against the wall with his own before going to slide up her little black skirt. She is dressed in thigh high boots, socks, a minidress and a short jacket; a risqué outfit entirely too cold for fall but that suits her perfectly.
"Shit," He chuckles darkly when his hand meets the soaking wet place between her legs, feeling the slippery slick residue all over her inner legs through whatever lacy bottoms she has on. "you trying to drown me?"
"Need you," Is all Riley whispers in return, reaching for his hair and pleased to find that it is still soft where she needs it to be when she grips it for dear life.
Multitasking was never his strong suit in school, but in this he excels, kissing her silly while pushing her underwear to the side and finding her swollen and ready for him. The fact that she is so painfully responsive and receptive to him makes his dick throb painfully from where it rests in his jeans and he goes to free it, latching onto Riley's neck with a groan when she instantly goes to grasp it.
"Miss me?" Pyro is unable to help himself and begins to thrust into her, making sure to support her properly against the wall as he welcomes himself into her warm heat. "Fuck, sweetheart."
She means to respond, but Riley's lungs expel all air as he starts his way inside of her. It has been three long months and she has had no other relations other than him, so to get used to the size of him again is bit of a shock. It still feels like she is getting split in half, but the more he fucks her the more she adjusts and the hungrier she gets for more. Her slick helps, but the fit is still tight and she vocalizes the pressure.
Just like back at the mansion, John guides her through it with soothing tones and perfect words. His voice has dropped to the husky tone she is used to, murmuring in her ear while he holds her legs apart and presses her open. "Fuck – you take it so fucking well, every goddamn time. It's like you were made for my cock."
He manhandles her so well it's almost like she's in a fever dream; nothing has ever felt this good in her life and each time is better than the last. She briefly wonders if this is all a hallucination or a part of her mutation before dismissing the thought as silly, only to adopt the theory again when he bottoms out inside of her. The feeling of being seated on him completely is ridiculous; she feels completely stuffed to the brim and she cannot believe that she used to take his dick regularly. There is virtually no extra room inside of her and both of them take a minute to relish in the sensation, drowning in their shared scent and the taste of each other's mouths after so long apart.
Pyro pushes a forearm against her sternum, one hand coming up to choke her while the other continues to hold one of her legs up. She wraps the other around his waist and clutches his shoulders with her hands, mewling as he tightens her air supply.
There is a break where he stops kissing her and comes up for air, staring at her in a sort of starstruck wonder. "How the fuck are you always this tight?"
Riley can do nothing but moan back at him, the sound tapering off with a slight shout when he picks up the pace a bit. It feels like she is getting fisted with a baseball bat, but it feels so unbelievably good to be filled up so much and so fast that her brain has trouble catching up to the pleasure from her lower half. Her head smacks against the brick wall behind her painfully, catching Pyro's attention and earning her a chaste kiss before he goes back to exploring her jawline and littering her neck with hickeys.
His hand is still firmly pressed against her neck and the lack of oxygen starts to get to her, so she gives his arm a double tap and he relents only for him to focus his energy elsewhere. Her dress is pulled down to expose her breasts and instantly he stops, making her whine in irritation before she realizes exactly why he has halted his motions.
Pyro is staring at her tits, looking mildly confused as he calculates whether or not his memory really is that bad or if her tits are actually much larger than the last time he saw her. "Did you get a fucking boob job?"
Riley simply laughs that tinkling, melodical laugh that sends shivers down his spine and gives him that feeling in his chest as she nods to confirm his theory. He is instantly on her again, the pace renewed as he presses her back against the wall to feel for himself and is pleasantly surprised to find that they don't actually feel all that fake. Her tits were small before, and while never minded - he likes smaller girls and the way he can push them around, so they come with the territory - this is not entirely unwelcome.
"Turn around," Pyro rasps, out of his mind as he slips out of her and deposits her feet on the ground, her heeled boots clicking on the cement. He wants to do everything with her all at once and its sickeningly overwhelming.
"What, you don't like 'em?" She teases and he snorts at that before physically maneuvering her into a proper position.
Two kicks to her feet get her to spread her legs and he pushes her against the wall, naturally prompting her to arch her back and place her hands out to stabilize herself. He starts pushing back into her again, palming her ass harshly and biting his tongue hard to avoid giving either one of the pale globes any smacks. It is really difficult, but he manages once he distracts himself by reaching around and torturing her nipples instead, making her cry out.
"Fuck – oh, oh shit…" She babbles incessantly as he penetrates her again, the angle so deep that she thinks she might pass out. "J-John, fuck!"
She is being so loud that he is forced to wrap his hand around and clasp it firmly over her mouth, ensuring to leave her nose uncovered so that she can still breathe properly. When they have a more private place to do this, he will undoubtedly take the time to roll around in her noises like a dog in garbage, but for now he needs to get her to quiet down.
"Shut up, Riley," Pyro urges in the most endearing way possible, grabbing the base of her hair into a ponytail and tugging at it in order to force her to arch her back so that he can get deeper inside of her. "Shut up and let me fuck you."
She wails against his hand in response, but the sound is captured by his palm and reverberates uselessly. It doesn't matter because it isn't like she's actually in any danger, but she needs to be quiet either way. Just because she can manipulate shadows does not mean she can manipulate sound, and he is forcing noises out of her that are a dead giveaway if someone were to stumble too close to their position.
"Just like that, see? Breathe through your nose," He praises her, and Riley hiccups through some of her alligator tears. "Yeah, there we go."
Being held down has always been grounding for her, and Pyro is very good at exactly that. His larger frame cages her in and locks her against the wall, nothing but lean muscle pushing against her willowy body as he keeps up a pace that has her in tears. Sometimes he picks it up and goes at a breakneck pace that she is certain will turn her brain to mush and rearrange her organs, but he knows that that isn't what she needs right now. It is one of the reasons she has not slept with anyone else since she last saw him; he is so attentive of her needs and in tune with her body that she feels she will never meet anyone else like him, so there is no point in trying to find her pleasure elsewhere. She is literally better off masturbating to the memory of this kind of sex than trying to recreate it and comparing every next potential partner to him.
Only twenty five percent of women can orgasm from penetration and Riley never thought she was one of them, but John manages to get her there every time. Her orgasm sneaks up on her, a scream bubbling up in her throat like an air-raid siren. He is quick to catch it, gripping down harder on her mouth with his hand, but she still tries to communicate the oncoming sensations with muted whimpers and mewls that go straight to his balls and make it really difficult not to lose it himself. She is already unbelievably tight and she tightens up even more when she gets this close, starting with a steady pulse that leads up to a crescendo of squeezing that tries its best to milk him dry.
"I know, I know, shh-" As always, he knows exactly what to say and do, not giving up the pace as he soothes her. "I've got you. Fuck – you get so tight when you cum. Let go for me, sweetheart."
She crumbles in his arms with a last muffled cry and comes apart, forcing his own orgasm from him with a near-shout. He has never come so hard in his life, but he manages to muffle the worst of it with a nasty bite to her shoulder that he knows will scar because he clamps his jaw down so hard that he tastes blood when he pulls back. She doesn't seem to mind, too blissed out in the sudden neurotransmitter boost to care, but he knows she will care when she notices a sudden ache and the fact that he has marked her like an animal.
It takes her awhile to come down. He loves seeing her like this; all doped out and willing to take more, but he knows she has already overextended herself for the day and so he gently eases himself from her and watches the excess cum drip from her sopping pussy, gathering on the ground beneath them. He double checks that her shadows are still surrounding them in thick hues, rendering them virtually invisible to the protesters at the mouth of the alleyway.
Their jeers and shouts are a stark reminder of why he is here and it brings him back to his senses, forcing him to rest his head on her shoulder as he recovers from the light-headedness. It takes them a minute or so to get their breaths back under control, but eventually Riley collects herself first and is already pulling her dress down and lighting another smoke by the time he has tucked himself away. It's like submerging himself in hot water every time he has sex with her and it always takes him a little bit to shake himself out of the mental fog.
"Why did you come to Washington in the first place?" Pyro cards his fingers through his hair in an effort to organize it, knowing fully well that she has done her best to muss it up as much as possible.
"I was born here," Riley sobers quickly at the change of subject, realizing that they will have to part ways and saddened at the mention of her home state. "I come back every now and again."
She used to love Washington and its vast forests, beautiful seaside views and reservations. In all honesty, she moved back because she was depressed and it was comforting to have familiarity around her, but it does make her sad to be here. It reminds her of family and old times, when she did not have to worry about taking care of herself or being on the run. It is why she does not travel to certain parts of the state, instead choosing to stay in the areas that her old family would never go. She reveals none of this to John, of course, but he can see it in her eyes that there is pain in associated with the state. There is love, too, but it is dulled and muted against the backdrop of a lot of terrible memories.
"Come with me." He doesn't realize that he is pleading with her until he has pinned her to the wall again and is forcing her to entertain the idea between kisses, ignoring her lit cigarette again. Maybe he's unconsciously trying to get her to quit.
"I can't, John – I-" She tapers off and pulls her swollen lips from his with great difficulty when he captures it again, frowning in guilt and obvious internal struggle. "I'm working a shift tonight and…I can't just up and leave."
"What the fuck does that even mean?" He scoffs, shrugging it off and holding her loosely by the collar. "Where are you working?"
She is silent for a long minute, looking away from him with such guilt that he becomes slightly concerned.
"Hey," He urges gently, grabbing her by the jaw and forcing her to stare up at him. "Tell me."
"At a strip club," She finally relents, letting him reel in shock from her tone and answer. "I'm a fucking stripper and I'm meeting a really high-profile client tonight and I can't leave because it's like half a year's rent, okay?"
He is actually speechless for a minute as he processes her answer. Of all possible employment opportunities, he doesn't know why he didn't consider stripping to be an option for her. It makes sense; living in any city can be expensive and he knows she likely had a lot of bills to pay off. It also explains why she was able to afford to completely remodel her chest and afford a new apartment, though he doesn't think she needed the former. Still, when he thinks about it, it irks him that others are getting to see her like that and something inside his chest claws at him to keep her locked away, hidden from everyone else. John knows that isn't fair or possible, but he doesn't push away the feeling. Instead, he swipes at his mouth and puts a hand out on the wall, staring down the alleyway to the many protesters lining the street as if they will give him advice on what to do or say. He knows he will say something stupid if he inquires after her job.
"I have too much to lose to be part of a war," Riley whispers shakily as sees him look over at the crowd, tugging her skirt down a tad bit more and hugging herself. "I'm sorry."
Pyro does not know what to say to that, either. He also has a lot to lose – his life and mutation are enough for him, and it's not like he wants to go to prison for twenty years – but he is willing to put his life down on the line to try and end this 'cure'. She is not, and while that is frustrating because it means he cannot take her with him or keep a watchful eye on her, it is undoubtedly safer for her to stay in the city and disguise herself as a human. He also does not want to argue with her about beliefs, because arguing with her will undoubtedly lead to more sex and he has already spent all the spare time with her that he can. So, he chooses to say nothing, because has never been much of a talker and he doesn't do well with emotions.
He cares about her; there is no denying that any longer, and annoying as that is it means that he has to do something to make sure that he will not lose her again. One of the mutants in the Brotherhood is a technopath, so he will be able to stay in contact with her, at the very least. He will not have a repeat of the last three months.
"Address, phone number," He then demands, holding out his phone and watching as she punches in her contact information with those long black nails. "how the hell do you type with those things?"
"You get used to it." Riley murmurs as if the fact is kind of depressing, and she is clearly thinking of something else when she says it. He doesn't have the time to debate what she is really thinking about, because he knows Magneto is expecting him to take only three hours tops and he has already lost an hour and a half of it.
"I gotta go -" Pyro starts, thoughts failing and stopping like a stuttering engine when he makes eye contact with her again. Unwillingly thinking that he had lost her was one thing, but consciously saying goodbye just seems like a terrible idea.
"I know," She picks up where he left off, grey eyes watching him carefully with just a hint of dejection as she takes another drag. "Go play with fire."
He smirks at that and pulls her in for one last kiss, trying to anchor himself to the feeling of her lips moving against his and her hands cradling his face. It feels like he is infecting her with whatever kind of sickness has broken him already, but in he knows that they are two sides of the same coin. He sees her as a non-confrontational version of him that has chosen to disguise herself instead of fight, hiding from any problems that she can. She is a runner, through and through, but he is grateful that she does not run from him (well, hopefully not anymore, and present time excluded).
They part smoothly. The situation and timing are obviously not ideal, and he has a job he needs to get done. He doesn't look back even if he can hear her footfalls moving from him down the opposite end of the alleyway, because that isn't their kind of thing and he isn't that kind of guy. He tries to console himself and licks his wounds with the knowledge that he has her contact information now and that he can find her whenever he wants, but parting with her still leaves a bad taste in his mouth.