Pseudo-Personification(Pietro/Mystique)
Written: 15 December
Published: 18 December
One-shot
Conflagrate me and be caricatured.
once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl...
He bites his lip as he thrusts his hips repeatedly against the cool hard surface, his breath coming in short spurts. He sees himself in the mirror, the same smoky cerulean-blue irises, the same proud mouth and the button-like nose, the single stud on his left earlobe. He takes in his own alabaster skin, the beautiful slimness of his wrists, stroking it with long, elegant fingers.
He licks the full-length mirror on the bed, groaning at the sight of his breath forming on the surface.
"God Pietro, you're so…" the blonde gropes for words, throwing a careless glance at the strewn clothes that lay on the floor.
"You're so unique, so perfect, so wonderful. Fuck me, Pietro. Fuck me so hard that I can believe that you almost exist. I want you to be with me, Pietro, damn, I want you in me tonight, my sweet blonde little angel…." The speedster trails off as his body is wracked with another orgasm, jerking spasmodically.
His sharp bony elbows press painfully on the uncomfortable glass surface, his semen coating the lower portion of the mirror. He lets a hand trail from his hips to his butt cheeks, before squeezing them urgently, letting it go further down to the soft line between them, down to his rapidly hardening cock…
Not good enough, Pietro, not good enough, I need more. More…
What Mystique sees isn't a disgusting, over-narcissistic naked boy masturbating to his own reflection in the mirror, but a desperate plea for her shape-shifting powers, as she hovers over the boy like a vulture.
I didn't even know the boy had a body like that, Mystique smiles, her golden eyes glittering sharply in the moonlight as she concentrates on the moving, moaning adolescent body in front of her.
"Mystique, what the fuck- Damn, you know I don't like women. Leave me alone!" Pietro snaps raucously when he feels a well-manicured hand fondling his cock with his own hand, not even embarrassed that he was caught.
"My my, horny, gay and sexy too, aren't we?" the shape-shifter hisses as she lifts the speedster up like an ant, and with a skilful swipe of her arm, spins the mirror from the bed to the floor, smirking sadistically to herself as she hears the piercing shatter of the mirror. Pietro's expression of hurt and anger was priceless.
"Pietro! You killed my Pietro you little bitch!" the boy shrieks as he struggles in Mystique's vice-like grasp, the intensity of emotion blazing in his chipped-sapphire eyes.
"Oh no. I didn't kill him. I… made him alive," she smiles, her body completely changing to look like Pietro Maximoff, feeling the usual sensation of her bones shifting and re-arranging, the structure of her teeth changing and everything in between.
"Or rather, do you prefer this shape, Pietro, a shape that looks exactly like you?"
a shape that looks exactly like me.
exactly like me.
A growl ejaculates from Pietro's lips as he forces Mystique on the bed, plundering her lips with his, batting her tongue aside with so much force and energy that even Mystique feels surprised.
"Too many fucking clothes on," Pietro whispers with derision as he slaps Mystique hard on the face, his hands swiftly divesting Mystique of the fabrics. The shape-shifter licks her lips as she feels her new male body reacting to the close proximity of Pietro's body, ignoring the slap that only helps her get harder.
A gnawing hunger envelops the both of them, both their eyes shining predatorily as they devour each other desperately, short, sharp breaths hissing between their teeth, fueled by cold fury.
He pounds her hard in the bed, the worn bedsprings creaking under the weight of the vigorous activities. He can't feel anything; he can't see anything besides the hands and hypnotizing eyes of himself.
"Oh god Pietro… Pietro you're so fucking hot when you come!"
"Don't you know that lube is for sissies? Do you want me to think of you as a sissy, you useless son of a fucking bitch?" Mystique jeers as she plunges into him, feeling the bittersweet metallic flavor of blood gather with vigor on her lip as she bites hard.
She feels nothing but friction and pain, but it slowly shifts into pleasure and titillation. The boy is writhing beneath her, screaming mutely into his pillow, his hair describing silver scribbles slicked with perspiration. She lets her fingers slide smoothly across his strong shoulder blades, and then digs her fingernails in the soft, baby-like flesh as she sends the two of them over the edge.
She smiles a taunting, small smile, seeing the boy fidget under her, his flushed face contorting as if in agony.
"You're such a good boy, Pietro, so good…" she coos, her heartbeat slowing down slightly, her voice like liquid chocolate, as one of her hands advance to tweak Pietro's nipples, the other playing again with his spent cock.
The boy is whimpering for more, soft train-tracks of shameless tears flowing down his pale, delicate cheeks, as he feels a slow, pressing despair growing in his heart. "Please… Don't go… I want you again so bad. Please…" he sobs wretchedly, tears falling like snow as he held on.
She teases him, a parody of a smile lingering on her lips… until he is almost there, then she slides soundlessly out of him, revels in the blood running in thin rivulets on the tortured boy's body, hauls herself off the bed, shape-shifts into a tawny brown owl, and flies out of the window, leaving a black inky mess of destruction behind her.
The last image she has of him is his eyes, little slices of gray, narrowed burning little icicles, and the sexual need and want showing forth in a display of raw nakedness, and the tangled tresses of an angelic blonde.
He's my pinned butterfly.
The boy automatically plays with himself until he feels himself orgasm and stares at the bed sheets saturated with blood and semen. Without thinking, he slowly crawls down the bed, and towards his broken mirror, his bloody fingers mending together the disintegrated pieces of glass, hysterical sobs threatening to shatter his delicate, fragile body into aching pieces, all the while calling out for his wraithlike lover.
... and he didn't live happily ever after.
i need somebody and always, this sick strange darkness, comes creeping up so haunting everytime.
blink 182
"and in the night, we'll wish this never ends."