St John the Divine: Liquor is Quicker

- Chibi Lurrel

This one has uh more explicit content than the others, so be warned: gay boys touching and stuff.

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Bobby didn't know what he was doing in John's apartment. It was beat-up, rundown, and it was a miracle that it didn't have roaches.

'I only had to burn a couple before the rest got the message,' John had explained, and Bobby couldn't tell if it was a joke but he'd laughed anyway.

He paid rent with money from a bank account that was routinely updated by the Xavier School trust fund, his allowance since Storm assumed that he was either at home or road tripping across the US getting high to find himself, and not sleeping curled against the wall in a futon thinking in his head 'don't touch don't touch don't touch' over and over again, since John was just inches away, all sweaty heat and sprawled limbs.

'You could get a job. It'd pass the time and wouldn't run up my electric bill like watching that damn TV all day does,' John remarked one day at dinner (chicken and rice, both stolen earlier on his way home from job number 8 in a long string of failed employment attempts).

'I'll pay for the whole bill this month then.' John's eyes squinted at him darkly at that as he puts food down on Bobby's plate (chipped, crack down the middle).

'Fine. That's fine. Just, you should get out, get some air, clear your head. You've just holed yourself up in my place here and I don't think this is what Storm had in mind when she set you up with a bank account and a couple of months of X-Vacation.'

Bobby went out and bought a ton of alcohol the next day, a couple of six packs and a huge handle of cheap, mango flavoured vodka. He told John that he paid a hobo to get it for him because he can only imagine the laughter that would ensue if he told him that all the underage members of the X-Men got fake IDs.

'Holy shit, Drake, glad I don't have work tomorrow,' was all he said after dinner and Bobby turned on the TV and they proceeded to get completely wasted.

'Okay, so your turn,' Bobby said drunkenly, holding an ice giraffe by it's leg and Pyro, because it's Pyro when he's got that gleam in his eye, grinned wickedly and said, 'I've been working on this for a while,' and lifted his hands. The little ball of flame he'd been holding grew, stretched a little, and then Marie was there, her delicate face looking out of a halo of fire, her eyes darting back and forth around the room and then at Bobby. He knew he was drunker than Pyro for certain; there's an art to sculpting with fire that doesn't lend itself to inebriation and he just looked at it. 'You win.'

Pyro laughed a little too triumphantly and then Marie disappeared, and the room grew instantly darker. Bobby leaned in, kneeling on the floor and pushing his face up to Pyro's.

'I don't miss her, though.' Pyro was still, blinking, dark eyed and dangerous, and Bobby didn't want to give himself enough time to think.
'You, though. I missed you.' His hands grasped Pyro's shoulders and they kissed, hard and flavoured with alcohol.
'I missed this,' he said between kisses and they tumbled into the futon, blankets sliding off.

'God, Drake, I've been waiting, thought you didn't want me no more. I wasn't sure if this me was good enough.' Bobby smiled and pushed Pyro back down on the bed, made him arch up and beg for kisses and touching and he knew his hands were frosted when his hand made its way up Pyro's shirt.

'I missed this, dammit Pyro,' Bobby groaned as Pyro rolled his hips up and there's ice sliding over the sheets too.

'You're gonna ruin my bed. I'll get kicked out or something if you flood my apartment.' Pyro was panting hard, but he stopped complaining as Bobby moved his fingers down his ribcage to the band of his boxers and the waist of his pants.

'I didn't think you'd ever make a move, oh,' and Pyro groaned again.

'Don't you ever stop talking?' Bobby growled and kissed him bruisingly hard. Pyro's hands fumbled with the zipper on his jeans but finally he'd managed it, and Bobby froze a corner of the futon as Pyro's hot fingers touched his dick.

'No. You're worse at controlling that shit than I remember.'

Bobby laughed as he sucked in air, trembling and bucking. 'I'm drunk, John.'

It didn't take much for Bobby to peak, John was a pro after all, and his arms turned into ice all the way up to his elbows and it took him a whole minute before he got it under control again.

Pyro was shivering, tangled in the comforter and still wearing all his clothes, his erection tenting his pants.

'Jesus. I guess they never got to this class, huh?' and Bobby laughed and laughed and finally felt light headed and giggly and free.

'Hold on,' Bobby said, rubbing his hands together to get them back to a reasonable temperature, and proceeded to give Pyro a sloppy and quick blow job, and realized it was the first one he'd ever given him. He managed to swallow and then Pyro laughed a little, shifting on the sticky mattress.

'I'm glad you managed to not freeze my dick off, Drake. Where the hell are we supposed to sleep, also, now that you've ruined my bed while gettin' your rocks off?'

They managed to salvage the comforter, which had fallen off the bed, and curled into each other on the floor, quickly asleep.

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Author's Note: So, review and stuff, I guess. The next chapter has some thrilling PyroxMagneto, because my brain hates me. Thanks y'all for reviewing! Pyro is totally a rich kid-turned-hoodrat, in my head anyway.