I am a comment whore so please feed the beast!
This scene was inspired by a gorgeous pic on DeviantArt by the incomparable rainrach, who is the goddess of Lietro fan art. You can see it here: .com/art/You-Complete-Me-Lietro-71004795
NC-17 to say the least
Flamers welcome, you feed my perversions!
"We are the champions my friennnnnnnds! And we'll keep on fighting till the ennnnnnnd! We are the champions, we are the champions! No time for losers cuz we are the champions of the wooooorrrrlllldddd!" Pietro shrilled as he finished showering. Despite his sister's violent reappearance in his life, he had to admit she was a stellar addition to the Brotherhood crew. The way they took down those X-geeks tonight! Hot damn!
"We are the champions! We are the champions!" yodeled Fred from downstairs where he was setting up a celebratory game of Asshole, courtesy of some beer Quicksilver had boosted on the way home from the fight.
"Idiots," Wanda snarled as she slammed the door to Mystique's own old room behind her, locking other the boys out of her gloomy retreat.
"Aw, c'mon snookums, don't you wanna celebrate?" Toad pleaded at the door. Wanda managed to hex him through the keyhole, so the boy morosely hopped off with one leg noticeably shorter than the other.
Pietro slithered into a clean pair of jeans and white t-shirt and threw his dirty uniform over the stair railing, missing the hamper on the landing by a mile. Toweling his platinum hair, he continued to sing as he strutted down the hall. "No time for losers cuz we are the champions-hit it Lance!" he shouted pointing an imaginary microphone through his teammate's door at the dark haired earthshaker, who was perched on his windowsill.
A grunt was all the response he got. Refusing to have his karaoke spoiled, Peitro pranced into the room, twirling his towel over his head. "We are the champions! Weeeeeeee are the champions-take it away Avalanche!" He shoved the invisible mic right under his friend's nose.
"Hmmf…of the world," the brunette sighed with a half-hearted smirk when it was clear his teammate wouldn't stop before he sucked on his smoke again.
Pietro eyes widened, and he smiled slyly. "Ahhh, wanted celebrate solo, greedy greedy." Pale fingers flashed and he was sitting on the bed across the room, taking a deep toke of the good shit, before Lance ever realized his joint was missing.
"Hey! Give that back!" he snapped.
"No, I'm comfy, not getting up," Pietro teased as he flopped back on the bed, with his head hanging over the edge upside down. Since that night in the storm Pietro's previous indifference to his teammate had changed into something like a jittery little fizz of nervousness and attraction. At a loss as to how to handle it the speed demon fell back on his favorite coping mechanisms: sarcasm and being annoying. And some flirting; it came naturally and the bed was actually pretty comfy.
Lance grumbled and left the sill to plop down on the floor next to him. Leaning his back against the side of the bed the dark teen held his hand out impatiently for the jay.
Pietro smirked at him from his inverted position as he took a deep toke into his mouth then parted his lips slightly to let the smoke creep out as he inhaled through his nose.
"That's not how you smoke," Lance noted as he snatched the joint back and inhaled sharply then held his breath as he fought down the urge to cough.
"It's called a French inhale, and it's European. I'm very continental," the platinum haired speed demon said knowledgably before he took the spliff once more and dragged in a big, over-the-top manly inhale, dramatically puffing his cheeks out and rolling his eyes at Lance. When the other boy snorted disdainfully then gagged on his own smoke, coughing hard, Pietro made a mental tic mark in the victory column.
"Fuck, agh, that hurt," Lance choked, thumping his chest.
Pietro took another smooth toke and French inhaled again. "It's about style, not power, Rockstar," he said sagely, winking at him. He tilted his head to the side, eyeballing his friend on the diagonal, and said, "You try." The look on Lance's face clearly showed his skepticism. "C'mon, stupid," he huffed. "Just suck and hold it in your mouth like a cigar."
"You make everything sounds dirty," the dark teen chuckled before he took a moderate puff. Pietro's mastery of innuendo was practically a mutant gift in its own right, if he did say so himself.
"Ok, now just open your mouth a little and DON'T-" he waved his hand in front of his water eyes, "-exhale, moron. Now you're just wasting it. Give it here!" He tried to snatch the jay from his friend, but found his wrist caught in an arm lock that left him weedless.
"Lemme try again," Lance insisted, holding Pietro's trapped hand. "I don't know how to do this fancy shit, gimme a break." He loosed his grasp but didn't let go the pale hand as he inhaled once more and parted his lips.
The silver haired boy subtly trailed his fingertips over Lance's palm and inspected his effort. "Ok, just let the smoke trickle out, then slooowly inhale through your nose. You got it!" Pietro giggled at the unexpected sight of his muy macho buddy whiffing it just like a French art hound.
"Hmm, not bad, think you can taste it better like this," the other boy said, abstractedly as the potent bud worked its magic.
"Well, that's ok only if it's the good stuff. Do you really want to taste that Mexican skunk Toad got last time?" Pietro shuddered at the memory. "And hello, pass that shit!" He waved his now free hand in front of Lance's face, which was relaxing from its previous pensive expression.
"Oh, sorry," he said, grabbing Pietro's hand as it flashed in front of him to put the joint in it. The pale teen could've sworn he felt an echo of his previous caress against the inside of his wrist.
"Ta muchly," the pale boy said, as he pursed his lip for another draw. "So what are you doing up here? The party's downstairs, and it's time to celebrate. We totally kicked those X-nerds asses."
"So?" He dark teen shrugged leaned his head back against the bed, the side of his face an inch from Pietro' shoulder.
Pietro inspected his friend as sarcastically as he could from his upside-position, his sleek silver eyebrows rising to the floor. "So? SO? We never win! And we didn't just win, we pounded them!"
Lance huffed and shoved a hand roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Just as attitudinally challenged as its owner the hair promptly flopped back down into his eyes. Pietro resisted the urge to tuck one of those locks behind his friend's ear. His high and Lance's closeness had his imagination making unexpected little leaps.
"So? Then we fight them again, and we win or we lose. Then we fight them over and over and over." Lance brows drew down in a hawkish frown.
A white cloud of sweet fragrant smoke circled their heads and both were quiet for a moment until Lance shifted, casually leaning his head again Pietro's shoulder as he muttered, "Does it matter? Nothing changes."
Pietro slit his eyes against the smoke and peered closely into his friend's face, only inches from his, a little unsettled by the moody turn the conversation was taking. "What's eating you?" the pale boy queried. It wasn't like Lance to get all broody. Yes, he was MOODY, sulky, snarky, and grouchy, but brooding wasn't his thing.
The dark teen sighed and closed his eyes. "How is what we're doing making a damn bit of difference for mutants? Is trashing a mall improving anything for us?"
"Well, no but-" Pietro was on the verge of giving one of Magneto's platitudes about fighting for mutant superiority against Xavier's band of naive dreamers.
Lance cut him off, "I just don't know what the hell we're doing. Do you?"
Pietro inhaled contemplatively on the joint and let its heady effect slip over him further, before he boldly reached over and stuck the smoke between Lance's lips. "Magneto's got plans. One day we're not going to have to hide, we're going to be able to be out in the open and-"
"Sure," Lance drawled, rolling the smoke between his fingers and staring at the slowly burning cherry. "So what ARE the big plans? For us to have the same fucking boring, pointless lives as normal people? Or does he have some kind mutant paradise in his back pocket?"
Pietro shrugged, peering into his teammate's upside down face. "I don't know. He just says things will be better when the human accept mutants…well, accept we're better than them. He doesn't tell me any details. Hell, he barely even talks to me." Pietro pushed the bitterness away with a vague gesture that swept his fingers over the top of Lance's head; after a moment they unconsciously returned to play with the dark strands.
Lance settled his cheek more comfortably against Pietro's shoulder, closing his eyes. His breath tickled Pietro's neck as he spoke once more. "Some great future…we don't even know what it'll be."
Pietro's contemplated that nugget of truth and sighed, "I just have to believe that it's going to get better one day." He nudged his friend with his shoulder, making him look at him. The dull pain in that dark gaze felt like a heavy weight settling on his own chest. He wanted to take the hurt away, but was uncertain how, his mind befuddled by the intoxicating drug.
"Lance, can't we just savor the moment or the victory or whatever?" His hand absently stroked over dark hair, his friend's nearness almost as heady as the pungent purple kush.
"Yeh, I know," the brunette murmured, tired of thinking himself in circles. It wouldn't be decided tonight or probably anytime soon. Best to not think about it, think about something better. "Shotgun."
Pietro's face was starting to redden from being upside down for so long and his confused expression made the dark teen grin. "Huh?"
"Thought you were continental. Open your mouth, dumbass," Lance smirked then took a deep drag and leaned in.
Apparently Pietro wasn't the only master of innuendo around here. The speedster's eyes slid lazily to half-mast as he parted his lips. The pale teen almost forgot to inhale when Lance's tan cheek brushed his as the dark teen exhaled millimeters from his lips. He was definitely high as hell now and the cloying scent of quality weed had nothing on the tangy scent that seemed to be all Lance. Pietro closed his eyes to savor the sensation as he held his breath then let it out slowly. He could feel Lance's cheek brushing his still.
The dark teen was so close and Pietro's nervousness got the better of him. He shifted his head back a few inches, regretting the distance almost immediately. "Uh…so…what do you think we'll do when mutants don't have to hide?" Suddenly his head snapped up to an upright position. "Do we have to get jobs?" Pietro shuddered at that last word.
"Yeh right!" Lance said, laughing hard at the idea "I can see you now, 'Hey, I work at Wal-Mart and I can stock all the shelves in 30 seconds!' You'd be employee of the month in no time." He poked Pietro on the head in jest and for a moment the pale teen swore he felt fingers lace through his hair.
"You are definitely stoned if you think that's going to happen. Can you picture me in one of those smocks?" Pietro snickered. "You'll do something destructive and dirty, I'm sure, like mining or demolition." Pietro outright laughed at the image of Lance in a yellow construction helmet and orange safety vest.
"Heh, jobs, that's rich," Lance chuckled, shucking a rough hand through his unruly hair once more, calloused fingers briefly tangling with Pietro's own on his head, before his hand dropped to his side once again. "That's what normal people do when they grow up," he continued, brow once again furrowed as his mind strayed back to a troubling subject. "What are we supposed to do? Does Magneto expect to be soldiers forever or something? Do we have a choice?"
Pietro's eyes slid lazily over his friend's face, taking in the mussed brown hair and serious expression. "I changed my mind, you are not stoned enough if you are still thinking about this crap," he said huffily, plucking the joint from his friend's fingers. "Shotgun, bitch."
"You're the bitch."
"Hmm, sometimes. The rest of the time I'm an ass."
"That's true."
"Just open your mouth and take it, Alvers."
"You definitely make everything sounds dirty." Lance grinned, his eyes unfocused as he leaned closer. Misjudging the upside down angle, he ended up knocking Pietro in the nose with his chin.
"Ow, damnit. That's not how you do a shotgun." Pietro rubbed his face.
"Maybe I wasn't trying to, 'Tro," Lance muttered in an amused, low voice before he lowered his head and brushed his lips across his friend's. Once, twice, feather light but full of potential.
For a moment Pietro froze, his mind tumbling in whirlwind of random, nervous thoughts. What did this mean? Why it because Lance was high? Did his breath smell okay? How clean was this shirt? Damn, that's nice. Did Lance like him or was he just messing with him? What the hell is that on the floor? Was his bodywash too flowery? God, he's got nice lips. What the hell am I doing? Was there something besides pot in that joint? Mmm, he smells so good. What the hell is he doing?
Just as quickly as Pietro's mind spun away from his control it quickly resolved itself into just one thought, "Don't sit there, stupid, get it!"
The pale hand that had been toying with Lance's hair turned into a fierce grasp as he pulled the other boy's face to his, hard. The angle was awkward, upside down as it was, but Pietro didn't care, especially when he felt the miraculous and sinful slide of his friend's tongue tease his lips.
Lance thrust his hand deeply into Pietro's silver hair and did amazing things that made little jolts of pleasure dart through the pale boy as he deepened the kiss. When Pietro sighed at the tantalizing feel of fingers against the nape of his neck, Lance took advantage and slid his tongue in to stroke and caress Pietro's with growing heat.
All thoughts of hesitation or doubt evaporated at the sizzling feel of Lance's tongue teasing his and the wildfire that suddenly burst to life in Pietro's veins. He moaned without restraint and grabbed the back of Lance's head, desperate for as much contact as possible. With a need apparently as great as the pale teen's Lance scrambled onto the bed and pressed his body sensually against his friend's. Dark hands brutally twinned in silver hair as he bent back the pale face to attack the hummingbird fast pulse hammering in the slender throat.
"Ah…AH!" Pietro cried at the pleasurable thrill of rough hands and tongue. Spurred on by Lance's almost violent passion and his own long denied need, he fisted both hands in the boy's black shirt and wrenched him up to seal his mouth over Lance's and plunge his tongue in roughly. The need to feel, taste, experience everything about the dark teen overwhelmed him as they battled for dominance.
"C'mon you guys, it's time for Asshole!" Fred shouted, startling both boys so suddenly Pietro bit Lance's lip and tasted blood.
The thunderous look on the earthshaker's face rivaled Pietro's spike of anger, but before the silver teen could shout a scathing retort that would surely blister Fred's ears Lance shoved free and stalked to his still open door.
"FUCK OFF!" he shouted with venom that even made Pietro's blood run cold. At least until Lance slammed his door shut with a vicious bang and threw the lock with a decisive click that made something start at the base of Pietro's spine. The dark teen stormed over to his stereo and with one hand slapped the CD player on and cranked the volume up as he tore his black his t-shirt off with the other.
Pietro didn't waste time as, with a smirk of pleasure, he ripped his own shirt off and threw it to the floor. Before it even hit the grungy carpet Lance crawled up the bed on his hands and knees, stalking the silver haired teen with a predatory look. He crouched over Pietro, dark heat boiling like back coffee in his eyes, and grinned the way a shark does before it take a pound of flesh.
"You bit me."
"I'll do it again if you come here," Pietro promised, reaching greedily for that tanned muscular chest as he slid down to lick and tongue a dark nipple. God, the taste of him was so undeniably masculine. Cigarettes and sweat and something all Lance, rough and addictive. So unlike the other boys Pietro had been with who were so delicate and effeminate that he had to force himself to be gentler than his nature preferred. The brunette was intensely desirable in his very opposition to what Pietro had always found attractive, so utterly male and powerful.
Lance hummed in pleasure at the feel of Pietro's dancing tongue then swore when teeth sunk in once more. "FUCK! Mmmm yes." One hand cupped the back of the silver head as the other slithered down to grab Pietro's ass firmly and shove their hips together.
Pietro moaned at the crushing feel of the hard cut planes of muscle and tendon that bore down on him firmly without compunction. The press of the strong body above his assured him they could give and take each other's powerful touches and fierce grasps in equal measure, and it was thrilling. He bit harder and was rewarded with another sensual, almost painful, grind of Lance's hips against his.
"God, 'Tro…mmm shit…like that," Lance groaned as Pietro licked and bit his way across his chest to attack the other nipple, worrying it to a hard tip. Encouraged by Lance's curses and gasps, the silver teen sucked hard and flicked rapidly with his tongue throwing some speed into the mix.
Hot breath in his hair, then his ear, sent spikes of heat down his spine to pool in his groin. "Talented tongue, 'Tro," Lance panted, raising the hair on the back of Pietro's neck, before he slid his own tongue in to tease the pale ear then suck on the pulse point just behind it, sending the pale teen's heart rate into overdrive. "Do it again," Lance demanded.
The heated imperative in that voice made Pietro shudder, and he practically squirmed with pleasure as Lance continued pouring dirty, bossy things in his ear like spoiled honey, encouraging his oral explorations. Not needing to be told twice, Pietro latched onto the delectable crook of Lance's throat where it met his shoulder and sucked hard. The earthshaker gasped and roughly grabbed one of Pietro's slim legs and wrapped around powerful dark hips, working powerfully against the other teen's slim strong frame with passionate and brutal thrusts.
One particularly precise and hard stroke made Pietro throw his head back and groan as Lance's strong thigh ground firmly against his denim trapped erection.
"Like that, 'Tro? Want more?" Lance panted before he kissed Pietro again roughly, tongue plunging in time with his hips as he wrenched another harsh, needy noise from the young man in his grip. "'Tro….uhh…god! Tell me and I'll give to you," he rasped, breaking away for a moment to level his penetrating dark gaze at the silver teen.
"More…ahhh shit…moremoremoremore," Pietro chanted breathlessly as he forced Lance's lips back to his for a moment before the brunette plled away once more with a lingering lick that trace the dip in Pietro's upper lip.
"Specifics...want to hear you say it," Lance whispered insistently as his tongue drew fiery paths down Pietro cheek to his neck then back to his ear, where it dipped in once more. "Use that talented tongue, 'Tro, and fucking tell me what you want!" he demanded, gripping the silver teen's hips hard and grinding down once more.
"AH! AAH! Shit, grab my cock!" Pietro almost shouted. He couldn't take anymore of this shit, this torture, this sadistic teasing. He needed something hard and hot and sweaty and fuck he needed it now.
Lance thrust his tongue into the pale teen's ear once more before he jerked up with an evil grin, ripped apart Pietro's button fly and yanked his jeans down and off without any preliminaries. Before Pietro could even catch his breath to compliment his speed all thought of coherent speech fled at Lance's firm, searing grip on his shaft. Pietro almost bucked off the bed, but Lance pinned down him with a powerful forearm across his waist as he leaned down to lick and bite at acres of bared abdomen and enticing pale flesh as his other hand expertly stroked the speed demon to a near frenzy.
A wave of molten pleasure pulsed through Pietro in time with each sweep of calloused hands and nipping teeth. His heart pounded so hard it drowned out their ragged breaths and moans, even the music pouring from the speakers. Pale hands slid down to stroke the dark hair teasing his torso, marveling at the contrast of the smooth strands to the stubbled jaw sensually scraping the sensitive hollow of his hip.
He wanted this to go on forever, nothing felt this amazing, nothing even came close to the blistering, incredible lightning that sparked his every nerve ending each time Lance stroked down to his base then up to circle the head with his thumb. He closed his eyes against the sight of the dark head sliding across his skin and Lance's tongue circling his nipple to tease it to hardness. Pietro was unable to focus on anything but the indescribable waves of jolting heat that leapt from each caressed inch of needy skin to the next.
"Hnnn…ahhhh…so good…Lance…Lance," he sighed, his hips twisting uselessly in the other mutant's intoxicating and strong grasp. Pale finger twisted in dark hair, pulling hard to yank the Lance up into another rich kiss. The brunette hummed into his mouth, the vibration an unexpected added pleasure.
The smooth glide of their now sweating bodies, the feel of slick hard muscle under their hards rendered both boys almost drunk with need. Ragged, whispered encouragements of "yes" and "more" battled with wanton groans and grunts as they dragged each other to new heights of sensation and want with each bite, lick, caress, and stroke.
Pietro wanted to hear more, needed to know Lance was affected as he was. He got his answer when he thrust his hand down the back of the brunette's jeans and dug his nails into one wonderfully hard cheek. Lance flung his head back in ecstasy at the mixed pleasure pain as he stroked Pietro faster and shouted, "'TRO!"
Pietro shoved his thigh into the earthshaker's groin, vibrating it suddenly with his mutation, desperate to wring more hot sounds from the powerful mutant pressed against him.
"Mmmmm…MMMMM FUCK…again 'Tro…gah agai-" Lance hissed, his back arching into the sensation, pushing his hips forward again once more even as he never let up his tormenting grip on Pietro's shaft.
Quick as his mutant name Pietro drew down the other teen's zipper and reached in to grab what he'd been thinking about endlessly since the prank in the shower. God, it was even better than he remembered, hard, thick and so hot Pietro couldn't resist saying so.
He leaned up to hook his teeth into Lance's earlobe, drawing the boy down closer to him and hissed, "This is what I wanted….god, touching you…shit…you making those sexy noises…so hot, so hard, gotta have it gotta-AH! Harder!" He gasped when Lance suddenly licked his rough palm then slicked it once more over Pietro's aching cock. The speed demon bit the bare shoulder in front of him and moaned as he licked the broken skin then allowed his tongue to slip once more into Lance's mouth.
Between ragged breaths and frantic slides of muscle and flesh Lance panted, "'Tro…hmmm...you gotta…mmmm…feels so fucking good…make you come-SHIT!" Lance shouted as the silver teen shoved him hard onto this back and, with the same motion, shoved his torn jeans down to his knees before straddling him.
"You first, Alvers," Pietro smirked as he twisted one nipple, hard enough to make the other boy gasp, and then slid his fingers into Lance's mouth. Pietro's hips rocked as Lance sucked hard, his tongue sliding up and down, teasing the sensitive pads with incredibly erotic promise as dark eyes melted into ice blue. The temperature in the room seemed to raise each second Pietro undulated against his teammate, unconsciously wanting a different kind of penetration. He withdrew his fingers, slicking them down Lance's dark jaw and across one nipple to toy with it momentarily. He relished each thrash and hissed swear from Lance because of his touch before his hand darted down and immediately set an insanely fast pace on Lance's cock.
Fingers moving faster than Lance could almost see, pale fingers feathered, teased, stroked, tugged, rubbed, and tantalized every ridge and vein before sliding over the head then down again to repeat the same torturous path.
"'TRO! AAAH!" Lance's back bowed under the pressure rising in him from the silver teen's fantastic touches. One rough hand shot out to grip a pale bicep in a crushing grasp as the other came down to grip Pietro's smooth shaft as it slid against him. Rather then trying to match his lover's speed Lance's grip was sure, measured, and undeniably strong. His long powerful strokes stoked Pietro's lust higher as the pure strength and sure masculinity of Lance's touch drove him crazy. It was nothing like the fluttering butterfly strokes of his previous lovers and it was mind-blowing and knee shaking and made Pietro want to scream. Lance's steady, intoxicating pull drew him upward in steady pulses towards climax.
Pietro's back stiffened suddenly as his orgasm broke over him in pounding waves that robbed him of all words but "Yes yes yesyesyesyesyesyessss." Lance sat up, never breaking his rhythm to grab Pietro's hair and force him into a messy kiss, no finesses only fire and lust and heady need. He shouted into Pietro's mouth as he bucked against the silver teen's torturous touches as he own orgasm hit him so hard it was like a two by four to the back of the head. The hand on Pietro's bicep snaked down around the speedster's waist and clenched him desperately as Lance came in 3 hard spurts, panting as he swallowed Pietro's own harsh cries.
Pietro surged into Lance's fierce hold, his own arm wrapped around the dark teen's neck and he rocked and shivered and moaned as he shot onto the earthshaker's luscious abs. The crushing embrace, their combined sweat and scent of heavy arousal, the sizzling feel of slick, sticky flesh made Pietro writhe in abandon, his hips snaking back and forth as he rode out the last of his orgasm.
After their breathing slowed and hearts returned to normal pace, Pietro started to get up, but a rough hand clamped on his arm.
"Where are you going?"
"To clean up."
"You're coming back." It wasn't a question, more like a firmly stated fact.
Pietro's first reaction to make a snarky retort melted under the intense, smoldering look Lance leveled at him. "Yeh, of course," he said softly as he reached over to run his finger through those dark strands once more before he tugged on his jeans.
Once in the bathroom Pietro considered taking a shower but decided against it. Lance's delicious scent hung heavy on his skin and he wasn't in any hurry to rid himself of it. He settled for splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth before he wet a washcloth and wiped off the dried evidence of their play from his stomach and thighs.
When he returned to Lance's bedroom with another damp cloth Pietro was amused to find the dark teen hanging his head backwards over the bed, artfully French inhaling another joint.
"Now you're continental, practically French," he joked as he sat next to him and smoothed the cool damp cloth over those delectable abs he figured could easily spend hours tracing with his fingers and tongue.
Lance raised his head as he passed him the joint and grinned. "I know continental is just your word for gay, 'Tro."
The pale teen shivered pleasurably at the nickname. Lance only called him that at certain times, and it made something flutter in his stomach. "You caught me. Should I give you the honorary toaster we give all new members before I teach you the rest of gay code?"
"I'm not gay," Lance stated flatly.
Pale fingers froze, the joint suspended halfway to his lips. He froze as though a new ice age had blown through the room.
Lance let him squirm on the hook for a moment before he laughed, "God the look on your face, 'Tro!"
"You're an asshole," the speed demon snarked bitchily as he drew raggedly on the spliff.
Lance sat up and put his arms around the silver teen, "I don't want any other guys, stupid." One calloused hand traced through platinum hair before fingers teased the back of Pietro's neck, followed by lips that peppered his skin with warm presses before Lance murmured in his ear. "Just you, 'Tro. Just you."
Pietro barely resisted the urge to sigh in relief. "Uh-huh," he blew a cloud of sweet smoke into Lance's face and smirked. "Prove it, Rockstar." Even with his speed he couldn't avoid the sudden tackle that pinned him, laughing, to the bed.