Pavor Nocturnis: Chapter Four
By: Lady Eternal & Psychodelic Barfly
Black silk... it was draped everywhere... absorbing the light... he couldn't see... even without a blindfold on, he couldn't see... but it didn't matter anyway... his eyes were closed... his body sore... not that he really noticed... he felt numb... he was used to this...
"Oh, little one..." A silken voice... intangible knife blade in the darkness... "You've been very good tonight... and just for that, we're going to try something special..."
The caress of leather... braided ends... nine trailing across his back, already criss-crossed with welts... a shiver of fear fought to be expressed, but He fed on fear... fear got you punished... he tried to relax, even when the air whistled as the leather braids came down...
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Pietro was jarred from a pleasant sleep by Lance's night terrors, sitting bolt upright and screaming at the top of his lungs, knocking Pietro so hard he toppled out of the bed onto the floor, and, more uncomfortably still... his wet jeans. And a shoe. Sneaker. Wet, cold sneaker...
Pietro wrinkled his nose, pulling himself into an upright position and peeking over the top edge of the mattress, surveying the scene. Lance was breathing like he'd just accomplished the 10K in record time, panting uncontrollably staring at Pietro, but seemingly right through him.
Lance was shaking, trying to catch his breath. He hadn't expected the dream; he didn't have night terrors with Pietro nestled against him... Pietro... Glancing around, he saw the miffed speedster slowly rising from the pile of damp clothes and couldn't suppress a weak chuckle at the indignant expression on that beautiful face. "You okay, Pie?"
"I'm okay, but you're not gonna be when I get done with you!" Pietro cackled, bounding onto the bed and scampering over to Lance, whapping him with a pillow. All was fun, until Pietro shrieked in pain... he'd managed to get a large chunk of splintered wood from the broken bedpost stuck in the bottom of his foot during his flying leap, not even noticing until it was nudged painfully by a rogue lump of quilt. Pietro's blood-curdling scream lessened into a pained whimper, his eyes wide and shocked at the sight of blood, his blood, flowing from the fresh wound.
Instantly, Lance curled him close, examining the wood lodged in Pietro's foot. Shaking off his nightmare, Lance ran a thumb over that pouting lower lip. "It's okay, Pie... just a flesh wound." Reaching down for his first aid kit, he brushed a gentle kiss over those ribbon-candy lips. "I'll fix it."
"Ohhhh god, no, it's gonna hurt!" Pietro cried, pulling his injured limb away and recoiling from Lance's embrace. "No, no, nononononono, don't touch it!" Pietro insisted, squealing and scuttling to the far corner of the bed. "Please, don't let it hurt, I hate pain..." How true that was.
Pietro had always been a wussy thing, putting on a false facade of manliness in front of the others, and especially in front of his father... but Lance was trustworthy, he wouldn't laugh at his kittenish skittishness, would he? Of course not, Pietro decided, but also knowing that because of just this, he would never let Lance get close enough to fix him.
Lance has his black medical box, and he saw the brunette start to lunge at him. Ha! Pietro swerved, prepared to jump up and take flight, when he stepped right on the owwie. He fell to the floor. "Fuck..." he moaned painfully, squeezing his eyes closed as he felt Lance's presence looming over his prone form...
Sighing softly, Lance scooped the escaping speedster back into his embrace. "Just relax, Pie. It won't nearly as much as you think." Gnawing on his lip for a moment, he threw caution to the wind and picked up the brandy bottle as well. "You want a couple hits of this? It'll take the edge off."
Pietro didn't need much coaxing. He grabbed the bottle, chugging it for a few seconds and pulling the opening from his lips, gagging and choking violently. "That's good stuff," he managed once he was able to breathe without lapsing into a coughing fit. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, handing the bottle to Lance.
Before Lance had a chance to start the procedure, Pietro grabbed him by the back of the head, pulling him down for a wet kiss, tongues twisting in the dark recesses of each other's mouths... Indulging Pietro's need, Lance savored that sweet mouth, now doubly potent with the taste of brandy. The moment, however, afforded Lance a distraction so total that most pediatricians would be envious. His hand smoothed over Pietro's thigh a moment before it reached for and found the hunk of wood, yanking it free before Pietro could panic. Those sharp white teeth bit down on his lip, but he considered it a casualty of war as he held the chunk up for Pietro's inspection. "See? It's not as big as it felt, is it?"
"Don't you know I need a little indulgence?" Pietro huffed, peering at the wooden slab as if it would jump out and bite him... much as he'd just bitten poor Lance. He traced the kiss-swollen skin with a finger, eyes locked on Lance's, eyes wide and begging for forgiveness. He lowered his eyes demurely. "You know what sounds fun?" Pietro asked, eyeing the forsaken liquor bottle. "We should get off-our-asses drunk and fuck in the streets, Lance," Pietro implored with a purr, grabbing the abandoned brandy and lifting to his lips, somewhat immune to the sharp bite of it at this point. "C'mon, Lance..."
Before Pietro could get a swallow, Lance snatched the bottle away and stoppered it. "No way, Pie. Much as the idea of taking advantage of you in a tipsy state appeals to me, I'm not nearly crazy enough to actually let you get drunk... especially considering how much it costs to replace this little stash of mine." Purposefully, he placed the bottle out of Pietro's reach and locked Pietro's slim leg against his body, proceeding to remove the splinters from Pietro's foot.
Ignoring the howls of protest from the little gypsy, Lance carefully removed each remnant of the wooden hunk; he then splashed a bit of brandy on the wound and used a few butterfly closures to close the edges before padding it with gauze and taping it up. "There... all done."
"Ugh... you'd better be glad I'm tipsy, dammit," Pietro moaned as he flopped bonelessly down on the bed, the alcoholic beverage taking its toll on his senses quickly and allowing Lance to perform the mini-surgery. "And what makes you think you'd have to take advantage of me?" His hand roamed in search of any part of Lance to tug him down... he felt so warm; too warm, but he wanted more heat, wanted Lance on him... in him...
Lance let himself be pulled down, eager for the return of Pietro's passion. Today had just been so... upside down, really... not that most afternoons he spent with Pietro were easily tracked... once his clothes disappeared, all they seemed to do was make love and tease and snuggle and make love some more... and it felt so good to ignore the world and just be with Pietro... "I love you, Pie."
"Yes, yes, loves... mm," Pietro murmured, capturing Lance's lips, shutting him up the fun way. Quick fingers were already at work on the closure of Lance's pants, the sound of the zipper being lowered loud in Pietro's ears. He could hear his blood flowing... maybe this was why he'd always been cautioned not to drink. Everything was too intense. But would he accept it any other way? Not a snowball's chance in hell, baby.
This time, Lance was in control of his faculties, centered again and able to push the recent nightmare into the recesses of his mind where it belonged. He helped those deft fingers, now a bit clumsy from the alcohol in Pietro's blood, to remove his clothes, rolling until Pie was astride him and he was able to reach the salve on his nightstand... After the punishment his backside had taken earlier, Pietro was definitely gonna need it...
Pietro loved how utterly shameless and free he felt tonight, grabbing the run-down tube from Lance's hand eagerly and lubing up the machinery, so to speak, hands running over Lance's manhood worshipfully, admiring the nice sheen the slippery skin took on with the lubricant aiding.
He scowled then, remembering he'd wanted to have Lance in his mouth before he fucked him silly, too late now because he's already slicked the rigid flesh. "Damn it," he muttered, staring at Lance's erection with annoyance. How could he get that crap off of it? His drunken mind was having trouble figuring out just what to do.
Lance quirked an eyebrow at the thwarted expression on Pietro's face. "Something the matter, Pie?"
"Yesss," he slurred drunkenly, "I wanted to blow you. But... I put that damned stuff on there," he said, suddenly overcome with frustration. He was surprised when he blinked and felt hot tears on his lashes. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, then crossed them when he opened the lids.
He stared at Lance cross-eyed, suddenly bursting into a fit of giggles, collapsing on his chest, lubed fingers sliding all the way from groin to shoulders, and looping around Lance's neck, snuggling, suddenly tired. With a small moan, he tried to locate Lance's member without the aid of his hands, pushing back against the firm flesh, but missing repeatedly.
Lance chuckled, his hands taking hold of his adorable lover's hips and guiding him down onto his erection. Pietro moaned in satisfaction, burrowing into Lance's shoulder as his hands clutched convulsively at Lance's shoulders. Lance's eyes rolled back into his head as that tight heat closed over him again... "You always feel so damn good..." he murmured hotly, turning his head to nibble on the delicate earlobe presented to him.
Pietro rocked back and forth, sliding his own shaft along the inadvertently-slicked skin of Lance's stomach, able to stimulate himself in two ways on each stroke. "No!" he hissed when Lance tried to assist, slapping at his hand when it ventured too close to his manhood.
Pietro rubbed himself against Lance wantonly, using his body as his personal fuck toy, knowing Lance was loving it, hopefully, as much as he was. Lance was his... he'd best be satisfied with the fact and like it, damn him. No more hissy fits. Because, alternately, as those strong, gentle hands rose to guide him, settling on his slim hips, Pietro realized that he was also Lance's. Full circle.
Somehow, Lance felt the difference. Perhaps it was just the silliness of Pietro now, accenting his more adorable qualities. Or perhaps it was simply that Pietro's words had finally sunk in. Watching Pietro ride him, feeling the friction of Pietro's erection against his stomach, Lance couldn't help smiling... it felt so good, to smile with Pietro again... to feel like there was hope, no matter how faint the spark...
Pietro didn't object as Lance's hand fit itself unobtrusively over his penis, fingers pinching along the sides lightly, keeping the organ flush with his hard, muscled stomach as Pietro drove toward him, then retreated, over and over. "Lance," Pietro panted, the light sheen of sweat visible on his fair brow, "we should leave. We should get away from my..." Pietro shut his mouth abruptly, realizing he'd almost admitted his parentage to the one person who may have a problem with it.
He bit his lip. "We should go, tonight, Lance... we can drive out west or something..." he felt Lance's hand tighten around his erection. "Vegas, LA... Denver... or Mexico," he offered, gasping for air, getting close just talking, admitting the possibilities he'd kept silent about all this time, the liquor loosening his tongue. "We can be together without anyone knowing us, any of these idiots here..."
Lance was startled by the suggestions tumbling off the speedster's tongue. From the way he was talking, Lance knew that Pietro didn't mean just for a vacation. "Pie, we haven't got any money... we've got no one to help us and neither of us has finished high school. We're not likely to get real far, and even if we did, we'd be living on the street..."
Pietro, again, almost blurted out that he was possessor of a large sum of funds, but that would require him admitting who his father was... but maybe it was worth the price. "Lance," he said, slowing his rhythm, "I have money... it's not a problem." His fingers splayed over Lance's chest, thumbs hooking over the dusky rose nipples, rubbing the tiny buds intensely, Lance arching beneath his body, hands squeezing his cheeks to a pleasurable pain...
"You're crazy..." Lance hissed, arching against the churning hips of his lover. Sliding his hands up Pietro's chest, he silently gave the speedster free reign over their cadence, knowing that no matter how quickly Pietro went, the maddening friction would bring him to orgasm practically simultaneously with Pietro. "But that's part of what I love about you..."
"Oh really?" Pietro gasped out, barely able to catch his breath as he pumped onto Lance. "What's the other part? Parts?" One hand reached behind him to grab and fondle the twin spheres located beneath Lance's engorged, enveloped prick, his back supported by Lance's legs. He's raised them to keep Pietro from falling off like a youngster experiencing his first ride on a mechanical horse outside a grocery store. Lance had been one of those children... and the damned horse wasn't even moving at the time, he'd admitted to Pietro once, in a highly-caffeinated state. Pietro had laughed at him... and admitted the same thing.
"That devious sparkle in those melting blue eyes..." Lance gasped. "They way they almost turn violet when you're turned on... oh, God, Pietro... right there... the way you snuggle like a contented kitten... God, I love you..."
"What else?" Pietro demanded, high off the wine and the compliments. "You should love me for my devotion, y'know..." He tickled the sensitive area Lance'd quoted, pressing the pads of his fingers firmly and rolling, massaging. "If you really loved me, you'd let me take you away from here," Pietro said, immediately regretting the way that sounded. "I want to love you everywhere, but somewhere else," he attempted to amend, the drink blurring his sense of proper grammar. "Where do you wanna go, babydoll? Anywhere you want, I can make it happen... and you know you wanna experience fucking in the middle of nowhere, cuddled up close, on a blanket under the stars... and away from all our problems..." It was a damned enticing offer, when spoken coherently.
"I don't care about geography, Pietro," a voice managed, throaty and ragged; Lance barely realized it belonged to him. "All I care about is spending the rest of my life with you... Hell, we can trade in the Jeep for a station wagon and live on the road, if you want..." Lance thrashed beneath him as Pietro sank sharply down, applying a maddening pressure to the sensitive flesh just behind his balls. "God, Pie... Pietro-o-o-o-o...."
"Christ, if you got a station wagon I'd have to kill you," Pietro hissed as he was bounced. "Painfully," he added a moment later. "C'mon, Lance... pick a place, any place. And we'll go." Lance's shaft hit that special spot, deep within Pietro, causing him to let loose, flooding Lance's stomach with his life essence.
Pietro nearly passed out from exertion, and felt Lance's hands keeping his rhythm by manipulating his hips, bruising the tender flesh and crying Pietro's name as he spilled into him, spent. Pietro threw his weight into righting himself, taking himself off Lance's propped-up legs and wobbling ever so slightly, then crashing down onto Lance's abused front, groaning. "We're going," Pietro informed him. "I'm not letting anything fuck this up."
Lance somehow found the strength to open his eyes, focusing on the snowy head that was nestled under his chin. Pietro really meant it. He really wanted to leave... leave the Brotherhood... Todd and Fred were pretty much helpless, and Tabby was little more than a hanger-on now that his relationship with Pietro had taken off... Could they really do it? Get away from the war between Xavier and Mystique and Magneto and live their own life? Someplace... different... better... away from everything and everyone... Goddamn if it wasn't tempting... "Okay. Let's do it," Lance affirmed. "Let's get outta here. We can go to San Fran... we'll have rights there as a couple, nobody would look at us twice if we live in the right neighborhood... we could blend in, and with 3000 miles between us, we might actually get away from this stupid war...
"Let's do it."
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A/N: Wow... it's actually over! No more phases! Complete! Finito! O_o; ::shocked:: Until, however, we decide to begin a possible sequel. . I demand begging.