by Pablo

Bobby's mother always told him that if he didn't have anything nice to say he shouldn't really say anything at all. But Bobby's not his mother so instead he says whatever's on his mind. Sometimes it gets him in trouble but it's not like he's not used to it. In fact, he and trouble are old friends. Maybe not good friends but they each have a mutual respect for one another.

Bobby likes honesty; it's become second nature after having lived in a house where more than one person has access to all of his thoughts, salacious or otherwise.

The next time Bobby sees John he tells him he wants to fuck him. To say John looks shocked would be an under statement and it's three whole days before Bobby even gets to see John again.


He catches a glimpse of John talking to Piotr after a class the two of them share. Bobby stares at the back of John's head and when John notices Piotr looking Bobby's way he looks around and his eyes widen. John doesn't look quite as shocked as he did the last time they spoke but he doesn't exactly look comfortable either.

Bobby doesn't take his eyes off of him and waits until John blinks and looks away.

He thinks about following after John as he moves down the corridor, almost hidden by the bulk of Piotr as they move off. But Bobby doesn't move, instead he watches, waits for John to look back at him like he's sure he will.

They're almost at the end of the wood-panelled corridor and then John looks back.

Bobby can't help but smile.


Bobby isn't really listening as Storm tries to teach them about the Prussian Wars of the Nineteenth Century. Instead he focuses his attention three seats across and one row ahead. John's hunched over his desk and for once the ubiquitous lighter he carries seems to be missing. It's probably tucked away into one of the many pockets of the jacket that John wears. After another book went up in flames, Storm had become more insistent on limiting the student's powers in class.

Like he always does when he hasn't got the lighter in his hand, flash of metal catching the light as he ignites it, John is fidgeting, fingers working at a frantic pace. Bobby watches him as his hand alternates between drumming on the smooth wooden surface of his desk, quickly followed by worrying the bottom of his jacket.

Bobby wouldn't be surprised if John was to work a hole through the material before the end of the lesson. As usual John's a bundle of nervous energy.

The lesson's finally over and Bobby quickly packs up his almost-forgotten books, falls into step next to John as he moves to leave the room. Bobby walks closer than he probably needs to and his arm brushes against the padded material of John's jacket. When the two of them touch, Bobby can't help but look across at John and smile.

John swallows uncomfortably and attempts to look anywhere but at Bobby.

"Have you thought about what I said?" Bobby keeps his voice level, pitches it low so the sound doesn't carry.

John actually stops walking when Bobby speaks, he looks lost for words and his mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something. But no sound comes out and instead he's quiet.

"You-you were being serious?" He finally manages.

"Of course." Bobby leans his books against his hip, a reassuring weight as he faces back towards John who's motionless in the middle of the corridor. Other students are milling past and Bobby's not sure if the flush of heat that stains John's cheeks is due to the relatively public nature of their exchange or the topic they're discussing. He considers asking but before he can speak John reaches out for him and drags him across the soft carpet of the floor and through the nearest doorway.

Bobby's unsure exactly what the room that John's dragged him into is used for. Its cramped walls are lined with leather-bound books and there's a vaguely earthy, musty smell that hangs in the air. Like so many other rooms in the school it was probably intended as a place for learning and Bobby's very much willing to teach John as much as he can.

John's about to speak but before he can Bobby pushes him back against the door, cool bite of the wood against his hand as Bobby presses himself against John. He moves his mouth closer until they're almost touching and when he speaks his lips almost brush against John's mouth, separated by the smallest of distances. Bobby can feel John squirm against him and he slowly rides the movement. When he does John gulps in air like he's drowning underwater and can't quite breathe.

"Are you still wondering if I was being serious?"

John doesn't answer, his mouth parts slightly but he doesn't look capable of speech at all. Instead Bobby moves his own mouth and presses his lips against John's.

Bobby isn't surprised at all how warm John is when they touch. Bobby presses his mouth against the warmth of John's lips and swipes his tongue in one long stroke against the heat. He's pleased when John parts his mouth and allows Bobby to kiss him. Their bodies still touch and Bobby rocks against him, presses John back against the door as they continue to kiss. John tastes like noonday sun and reminds Bobby of summer days spent at the beach. A rich heat infuses his body and Bobby relishes it, wallows in the warmth of John's body.

When he pulls back, John's mouth looks darker, red, almost like blood. His eyes only slowly drift open and John looks lost, floating in the water he'd previously been drowning in.

John shivers slightly, Bobby can feel the movement through his entire body where they still touch and John laughs a little, smiles. His teeth chatter as he finally manages to speak.


Bobby joins in his laughter, before John pulls him in for another kiss. Golden, sun drenched, Bobby wonders if he takes too much if he'll burn-up from the inside out. But he can't bring himself to care.

John's lips are tinged, almost-purple and Bobby kisses his mouth softly, cold spreading from his own lips to John's. Bobby loses himself in it, soft press of flesh and heat from John.

He can hear himself moan and when John speaks again he can feel the soft brush of warm air against his skin.


That single word dragged out, John's voice sounds ragged and broken and when he repeats it again, Bobby kisses him, swallows the heat and the word and John into his mouth.

"Yes, you've thought about it? Or yes, I can?"



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