Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3975595.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men_-_All_Media_Types, X-Men_Evolution, X-Men_(Movies), X-Men_
      (Comicverse)
  Relationship:
      Blob/Toad, Frederick_Dukes/Todd_Tolansky, Magneto/Toad, Erik_Lehnsherr/
      Mortimer_Toynbee, MagneToad, Toad/Gambit, Mortimer_Toynbee/Remy_LeBeau,
      Wolverine/Toad, Logan_(X-Men)/Todd_Tolansky, Victor_Creed/Mortimer
      Toynbee, Sabretooth/Toad, SabreToad
  Character:
      Toad_(X-Men), Todd_Tolansky, Mortimer_Toynbee, Blob, Frederick_Dukes,
      Magneto, Erik_Lehnsherr, Gambit, Remy_LeBeau, Wolverine, Logan_(X-Men),
      Sabretooth, Victor_Creed
  Additional Tags:
      Tag_As_I_Go, musings, Character_Desperate_For_Affection, Hugs,
      Depression, Friendship, Spandex, Dubious_Consent, Hand_Jobs, Bathroom
      Sex, Maybe-Maybe-Not-Drunken-Sex, Period-Typical_Homophobia,
      Prostitution, Face-Sitting, Very_Mild_Testicular_"Torture"
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-05-20 Updated: 2015-12-30 Chapters: 6/? Words: 12920
****** Come On Baby, Lick The Toad ******
by JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary
     A collection of short ficlets pairing Toad with everyone.
     The title may seem like all the stories will be dirty, but they will
     not. Most of them will be, though.
     First up- Todd muses about his life while getting a hug from Freddy.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Blob (Evolution) (T) *****
It’s kind of amazing, Todd thinks when he has a quiet moment, when Pietro and
Lance are out and Freddy is asleep, that the four – five, six? however many of
them – have managed to survive thus far on their own. Well, they’re not really
on their own. Magneto keeps the lights on and the water running, and Mystique
checks in on them every once in a while to make sure they haven’t killed each
other or make sure they haven’t burned the place down or to dish out orders, or
something. She never stays with them long. She’s around, but she’s not around,
not emotionally available. She doesn’t play make-shift-den-mother very well.
Todd knows, or, he figures, that it’s not really her responsibility anyway.
She’s not his mother.
He also knows that he’s only fifteen, and he craves some sort of attention.
Sure, he’s living the average teenager’s dream – if you don’t count the nearly
dying in some crazy mutant firefight on a weekly basis – living alone with no
parents with his (mostlysortaprobably) friends, doing whatever he wants. Sure,
he has to go to school; enough not to get kicked out and have some agency or
another on his tail, but that’s really only for show. But he needs affection.
Affection that he’s not getting around here. And he’s not going to jail for
prostitution or soliciting a prostitute, thankyouverymuch. Not that anyone
would hire him, he assumes. Not only is he clearly a mutant, but he’s clearly
underage. Even the most seasoned of working girls (or boys, he’s really not
that picky) would turn him down, he thinks, so he discards the idea and focuses
on goading people into yelling at him, or chasing him or hitting him. It’s
pathetic, he thinks, but it’s attention.

Bored of his room, he wanders out to the living room where Freddy is asleep on
the couch. The bigger boy has a wrapper for a burger from Gut Bomb on his ample
stomach and Todd wonders where he got the cash for it. He’s not doing the shows
at the county fair because it’s not that time of year, and he’s not as adept at
theft as Todd is. Then again, the dirty blonde figures, Freddy could just force
people, even adults, to give him money with his brute strength.
He’s kinda jealous sometimes, he’ll only admit to himself, of Freddy’s
strength. He sits on the floor by the couch, facing his friend as he muses
about the other. He wonders if his weight is a part of his mutation or just
because he eats so much. He assumes the other needs to stuff his face to
maintain enough strength to throw cars. He assumes it’s part of his mutation,
but decides that, in the end, he doesn’t really care. Freddy’s a good kid, just
has a bit of a temper. He’s doing better in school than Todd is, but Todd
doesn’t pay attention. Even to the ‘hot’ teachers.
Todd turns around and starts up the game system, surprised that the thing is
still intact. He sits with his back against the couch and leans his head back
against Freddy’s arm. It’s not as good of a headrest as he thought it would be.
It’s surprisingly hard on the side that the back of his head is pressed
against. But he leaves it there. It’s human- well, mutant contact. Something
he’s been craving for a while and can’t risk his already dubious reputation to
ask for. And it’s not like anyone would give it anyway, and he takes his
aggression out on some unfortunate pixels finding himself not at all satisfied
by the cartoon blood splatter. Because it’s not what he wants.
But it’s all that is socially acceptable that he do.
He hates it.
Not the game, per se – he’s had many hours of fun destroying the others at this
one in particular. Pietro’s expressions are the best when he loses.
His excuses, though? They’re pedantic, and yes, Todd is very proud of himself
for knowing that word and having a use for it. Pietro loves to bitch about
technicalities whenever he loses at anything.
When Freddy moves and his thick – beefy, chubby – arm wraps around Todd’s upper
body, he flinches and lets out a decidedly feminine yelp. It startles his
mowhawked friend awake, but he doesn’t move much more than to pull Todd closer.
“Oh,” the bigger boy says when he realizes he’s holding Todd like a human-sized
teddy bear, “hey.”
“Hey,” Todd says in return, doing nothing since he dropped the controller.
Freddy sighs and pulls the strangely colored mutant closer, mumbling into his
probably greasy hair. He jokes about taking showers only once a month, but he
takes them twice a week, thanks. His smell is from his mutation. And soap kinda
hurts.
He lets himself be manhandled, and figures he will be until Freddy is fully
awake. His back complains at the odd angle he’s being forced into. A normal
person could probably deal with it, but his spine doesn’t work like that. But
he’s being touched. Willingly. Well, sort of. By a friend. He’d never admit it,
but he likes it. More than any of his so-called friends would allow him to say.
Because he’s not gay. But that doesn't mean he’s not bi or pansexual or
something else that isn’t straight or gay. Or that it’s even a sexual touch
he’s craving. Maybe he just wants a damn hug. There’s nothing gay about that.
Amidst his pouting, he’s pulled up on top of Freddy, cradled and spread out
over the other’s chest and belly. The burger wrapper falls somewhere. it’s
awkward feeling, but the way their bodies are built – Freddy obtuse, Todd acute
– they fit together perfectly like this. He raises his arms to wrap them as far
around Freddy’s neck as he can, and the arm of the couch is in the way just
before he’s able to get a comfortable grip.
If Pietro or Lance or Tabby or what’s-her-name walk in, he’ll claim Freddy did
it in his sleep, which is mostly true, and would be entirely true if brown eyes
weren’t looking down at him and looking so damnably amused.
“What?” Todd demands, and pouts.
“Nothin’,” Freddy says, and he sounds sleepy. He pets Todd’s hair with one hand
and it’s a sore irritation for the dirty blonde just how fucking amused the
other is by this.
“Fine, then,” Todd says and buries his face in the other’s white tank and it
really is soft. He imagines the other is still mostly hairless, at least on his
chest. He’s seen the other with a razor in the mornings, taking care of that
nasty, wispy teenage-boy-stubble kids their age are so prone to getting. Even
some girls. What’s-her-name has a secret – she waxes a ‘stache. She doesn’t
know he knows, either and Freddy’s hands feel so great on his back when they
migrate there. Todd sighs and nuzzles Freddy’s chest after he’s hiked up,
pulled closer to Freddy’s level, but he’s still too paranoid to fully enjoy the
attention he’s getting. And that’s a damn shame because he really wants to
return the affection, maybe escalate. Maybe kiss Freddy and see what would
happen.
Getting thrown across the room is what he assumes would happen. Then something
heavy would be thrown at him, he muses, and Freddy would tell Pietro and Lance
and Lance would tell Kitty and Pietro loves a good rumor – he’d tell everyone
who would listen, and Todd’s nickname would no longer be “Toad”, but instead
“Gay Boy” and he’d be the laughing stock of the Brotherhood. Of the school. Of
the X-Men. Not that he already isn’t, he thinks. He sighs.
Freddy must have taken his sigh as a good thing, because his hands continue to
move up and down Todd’s bony back, and he does let out another sigh. A good
one. It does feel nice. So very nice, and he wonders briefly if the other will
notice his growing erection when it stiffens enough to press into his stomach.
He doubts it – Freddy barely notices a fist in his gut unless he’s looking. He
can’t imagine a dick would be any different. Nonetheless, the worry is still
there, and he’s ready to blame it on being fifteen if he’s pressed about it.
Speaking of ‘pressed’, Todd finds that he doesn’t mind the thought of being
under his friend’s bulk - pressed against whatever surface they would be on (he
would strongly prefer a bed because anything else would hurt his back and that
thought makes him feel old), Freddy all warm and soft and just there.
He doesn’t really find the older boy attractive, not in the common usage of the
word. He likes goth and metro, or, well, well-kept, and not metro like Pietro –
he prefers his mates (and that thought almost makes him laugh) without the
bitchy attitude. Not country boy. But he does like the concept that is Freddy –
big and strong and caring (to him, anyway) and more importantly there. Real.
Someone he can touch. Someone who cares about his interests. Someone who will
look out for him. He feels disgustingly girly while he mentally ticks off the
qualities he likes in his friend, but there aren’t any telepaths around, to his
knowledge, so he indulges.
And lays there.
All wrapped up in Freddy’s arms and happier than he has been in, well, as long
as he can remember.
***** Magneto (Comics - Magneto - AU) (E!) *****
Magneto was caged.
Everything was either plastic or glass and Toad stared at the now bald man
through the glass. The brunette sat at a wooden desk, its handles plastic, the
hourglass that counted the time of his shift inside the room more of an
hourplastic with its unbreakable curves. He twirled a rope ring of plastic keys
around his finger. He felt like he was in the world’s most boring children’s
playroom.
He might’ve even believed he was in a nursery-to-be, what with the eggshell
blue walls and nothing threatening around, if it hadn’t been for the man in the
cell. Magneto, or, what was left of him. He was a pathetic thing now; tired,
weak, old. He didn’t look old at first glance, but Mortimer could see it in the
other’s eyes. In his crow’s feet, his bruises, his limp. When he walked, that
is. Most of the two hours he’d spent on guard duty that far, the older man had
just sat there and stared.
At him part of the time, but at those moments Toad looked away. He stared at
the blue walls like they were actually interesting and wondered why those he
was with had put him, of all mutants, to this task. Didn’t the X-Men, or, what
was left of them, too, he supposed, think that he’d turn on them and free the
caged man – the man he’d spent so many years with?
Not that it really would’ve mattered if he did. Even with Toad’s help, he
wouldn’t get past the remaining X-Men. He had virtually no powers, could barely
lift a coin let alone a knife or even a pen, and he was so battered, so beaten
down. A husk. No, a shell. Shell is a much better word than husk. Doesn’t evoke
memories of any kind.
“Mortimer,” the man finally said and Toad’s eyes snapped up without even
thinking about it. He cursed inwardly but held that oh-so-blue gaze.
“What?” Toad bit out.
“How have you been?”
Toad laughed. He laughed and laughed and, yeah, fell out of his chair. He got
back up and sat in it, hunched over the desk, tossing the keys off to one
corner of it. He didn’t miss the way Magneto’s eyes made note of their
location.
“That’s how you’re going to play this?” Toad asked with no intention of getting
an answer. “I’ve been well, actually. Better than I can recall being in quite
some time.” He stayed silent for a moment, letting a wicked grin split his
features and showing off his sharp teeth. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but I think
I can see the answer perfectly well.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“If you’d bothered to look, you’d have seen that I wasn’t.”
They left it at that. Or, at least, that’s where Toad thought the conversation
would drop.
“I’m glad to see that you’re alive.”
“I bet you are,” Toad said with a humorless snort.
“I am. You served with me for so many years,” the man trailed off, still
staring at the brunette.
“Yeah, and it didn’t do either one of us any favors, did it?”
Another round of silence as Magneto thought.
Toad knew he shouldn’t have been engaging the man in conversation, his tongue
was as silver as Toad’s was long. But he needed the last word. He hadn’t even
had a chance to cry for help the last time, not that Magneto would’ve given a
shit.
“I’ve missed you,” earned Magneto another derisive snort. “You were always so
loyal. I see your loyalties lay with the X-Men now.”
“They took me in after your ass left me for dead.”
“Mortimer,” Magneto said, his voice barely audible. Blue, blue eyes bore holes
in him as Toad looked away. “If I had known, I would have done something.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
The brunette looked up when he heard Magneto moving. He pressed his hand and
forehead to the glass. He looked like a ghost in the white scrubs he’d been
provided.
“Are you real?”
“Of course I’m real, dumbass,” Toad spat.
“I want to feel you. I want to see that you’re not an illusion.”
“I’m not falling for that one, old man,” Toad said, rearing back and turning up
his nose.
“Please,” and he sounded so broken. It hurt a little, but Toad would never
admit it. Instead, he looked away again. “Mortimer, please.
“I have nothing left. No allies. No friends. No one who shares my dream.” And
Toad kept telling himself that the broken voice was an act. It had to be or
else he was in deep shit. Don’t fall for it, he warned himself.
“And just who do you have to blame for that?”
“Myself. I know. I pushed you too hard. I expected too much. I-“ Toad looked up
during the dramatic pause for effect, and knew he was fucked the moment he
locked eyes with Magneto. “-I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you,” Toad said, his voice holding much venom than it
previously had.
“Of course. Any good caster of illusions wouldn’t let you. They don’t know my
Mortimer.”
“You don’t know “your” Mortimer!” Toad hissed, hopping up and rounding the
table. Attempting to stare down the man who, even hunched over as he was, had
half a foot on him. “You don’t know me. You never knew me.”
“Then let me know you,” the older man said, his breath fogging the glass.
Mortimer, now, not Toad, put his hand to the glass over the shadow of
Magneto’s. When Mortimer didn’t say anything, Magneto continued;
“I know you used to love me.”
“Love isn’t eternal. You taught me that,” Mortimer answered, pressing his
forehead against the glass.
“No, it isn’t, is it?” Magneto whispered and turned away.
“Damn,” Mortimer said to himself as he watched his hand grab the keys from the
table, knowing full well he shouldn’t, but unable to stop the movie that was
his movement.
He unlocked the door and threw the keys back on the table.
“If you try anything funny, I will kill you.”
Magneto looked for a moment as though he may back up against the wall, but
Mortimer should’ve known better. The man only made strategic retreats, never
backed down - in spirit.
“Mort-“ he sighed, gathering the brunette in his arms. “So you are real,” he
said into the other’s hair. Mortimer tried to pull back, but fingers fisted in
his hair and pulled him into a kiss.
Shocked out of his mind, sure he’d been killed by some trick the older man had
pulled on him as soon as he opened the cell door and not sure if he was going
to heaven or hell, Mortimer didn’t respond. Just stared. Magneto’s eyes were
closed, his brow much more relaxed than it had been the last two hours.
Mortimer came back to his senses when a tongue forced its way past his lips.
“What are you doing?” Toad demanded, pulling back and taking hold of the
other’s biceps. The other’s biceps that no ninety-some year old should have.
How many times had he been exposed to some thing that restored his youth, his
vitality, and, Mortimer shivered, his sex drive?
“Showing you that I loved you as well.”
“I don’t want this kind of love from you.”
“Oh?” Magneto asked, a small smile stealing onto his face as one of his hands
moved down the front of Mortimer’s black spandex. It rounded over the slight
bulge in the front and squeezed slightly. Mortimer couldn’t help his quiet
moan.
“Damn,” he said again.
“I will stop, if you desire,” Magneto offered, caressing the stiffening length
and then dipping lower, rubbing over the brunette’s restricted testicles.
“If you don’t, I might make a mess of my suit,” Mortimer said breathlessly,
reaching out to grip the other’s shoulders, slip a hand up his neck, over the
back of his head. He let out a mewl when the fingers wandered back even further
and rubbed at his hole through the suit.
“I doubt anyone would notice. Black is good for hiding stains,” Magneto mused,
pressing the other bodily against one of those fucking blue walls, and pushed
harder with that finger. Brought his other hand down to caress the hard length
pressed against his stomach in the spandex.
“But a white strain?” Mortimer asked, fingers scratching at Magneto’s back and
head. He wanted another kiss, was tempted to lash out with his tongue. Wanted
to taste.
The older man gave him just that, leaning forward and taking his mouth again.
Sucking his tongue into his mouth. Biting. Lightly. Moaning when Mortimer
bucked his hips and whined. When Magneto pulled back, his eyes were just as
blown as Mortimer’s.
“You could always go and change. I’ll still be here when you get back,” he
said, and he looked amused, happy, different, weird. Mortimer brought one hand
down to Magneto’s cheek, caressed him, watched as the older man leaned into it,
his hands on the other’s lower body stilling while he was petted. Upon
realizing he’d stopped, he gave a squeeze.
“Fuck,” Mortimer breathed, jerking, spreading his legs, giving the older man
more access. He always gave him too much, he mused.
“I don’t think I’m up for that right now. I’m still in a fair amount of pain.
Perhaps later,” and it was a promise, not an offer, as told by his tone, by
Magneto’s lips against his cheek. His chin. His lips, and they kissed again
while Magneto continued to massage and caress the trapped length. There’s a bit
of moisture that makes Magneto grin into their kisses and Mortimer shiver when
a thumb runs over it, smearing the stickiness that can be felt through the
fabric. “Do you need more, dear, or can you come for me like this?”
Much to his embarrassment, the words did it for Mortimer and he cried out,
clinging to the older man and nipping at his jaw as he came, jerking against
the palm laid flat over his throbbing cock. Magneto let out a pleased hum and
rubbed him throughout, luxuriating in the nips and kisses from his former ally,
his former right hand man, his former subordinate.
“Was it good for you?” the older man teased, pulling his hands away and wiping
them on the scrubs.
“Well, I got off,” Mortimer answered.
“Mm, I noticed,” Magneto said with a grin.
“Did you need-“
“No, my dear,” Magneto answered before the brunette could even finish the
question. “I am currently not capable of that. But we will.”
“You think we will,” Toad, finally back, said.
“Go on, change. Back to your post before someone notices something is off.”
Toad pulled back and tugged at his sticky suit. He looked over to the table
through the open door and balked. There was barely any sand left in the top of
the large thing. They had three minutes at most before someone came to relieve
him of duty.
“Stay put,” Toad said, giving the other an almost chaste peck, ironic after
what had been done, and slipped out of the cell, closing it and testing to make
sure it locked behind him.
Magneto walked up to the glass and stood there, hands folded behind his back,
watching Toad.
When his relief came through the door, Toad bolted, looking back once to catch
that knowing smirk and a press of the older man’s fingers to the glass. He knew
then that he was still a fly in Magneto’s web.
***** Gambit (Series of your choice - AU) (E!) *****
“Hush, cher, you fuss too much,” Remy insisted, pressed to Mortimer’s side in
the darkness.
The bar wasn’t quiet, nor was it mutant or faggot friendly, but somehow the
brunette ended up with a tall, gorgeous, probably drunk redhead chatting him
up. Really, Toad had just wanted a drink. Really. The long fingers trailing up
his arm were an unexpected, possibly unwanted (he hadn’t decided yet)
development.
“Why me? There’s a couple dozen other halfway decent looking men in here that
would probably be willin’ to catch what you’re throwin’,” Mortimer explained,
taking another sip of his beer and wishing he’d never taken his coat off.
“Remy don’ want them. Dey only lookin’ at de surface,” Mortimer heard and felt
a grin against his shoulder. “Not dat Remy ain’t guilty of that from time to
time,” and he giggled. Fucking giggled.
The brunette knew that it wasn’t his responsibility to see that the other got
somewhere safe, but those red eyes bore into his very soul when he looked down
at the taller man who’d curled up at his side. Taking up most of his side of
the booth when the other side was perfectly empty. He was clearly mutant and
Mortimer wanted to help. Bad idea, he thought; he’d learned the hard way that
helping wasn’t his strong suit.
“You’re drunk,” Mortimer said, tipping back his mug.
“Remy is no’ drunk,” the redhead said, sitting up. He sat straight and fixed
his hair. “A tiny bit tipsy, maybe. But Remy be a collector o’ unique
experiences, not a drunkar’.” Mortimer raised a brow at this.
“And you think I’m one of your,” he paused and cocked his head, frowning
slightly, “unique experiences?”
“Mm, oui,” Remy supplied, grinning and wetting his lips with a sinfully red
tongue.
“You’re drunk,” Mortimer said again.
“Den maybe you coul’ help Remy get home,” the taller man suggested, pulling at
Mortimer’s arm, pleased with the thick muscle he found under the deceptively
smooth surface.
“Kid,” Mortimer threatened, looking around to make sure no one was watching
them. They received the occasional glance from a menacing looking man off in
the corner, but after Mortimer watched him for a moment, he seemed more
interested in the newspaper in his hands than whatever it was they were doing.
And really, who came to a bar to read a newspaper? But the thought was pushed
from his mind by one of Remy’s hands wandering up the front of his button-down,
playing with each button individually – caressing, flicking or just feeling.
“Remy ain’ no kid. He c’n show you, if you wan’,” the redhead suggested with a
soft titter.
His behavior screamed faggot, but Mortimer would be lying if he said he wasn’t
at least a little interested. The boy – man, whatever – was attractive. Had a
devilish smile and an undeniable charm, even tripping over himself with drink.
“If I give you a hand job in the bathroom, will you leave me alone?” Mortimer
hissed quietly.
“We c’n start there and see where it goes,” Remy answered, his lips so, so
shiny in the light over their table when he tilted his head up.
“Fine. Go, then. I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as the redhead left and ordered another beer. He
watched as the gruff man from earlier got up and headed toward the restrooms.
Toad groaned inwardly and thought for sure he knew a coming beat down when he
saw one. He hoped the kid’s power was a useful one and considered leaving. He’d
pay his tab, slip his coat on and just go.
But he couldn’t do that.
Maybe if the kid had been sober, he could’ve.
He damned his caring nature and got up from his table, heading toward the
restrooms cautiously. He listened intently, hearing the stranger, well, both
strangers, really, exchange hushed but heated words. He couldn’t quite make
them out, so he pushed the door open.
“Everything alright in here?”
“Oui,” Remy said, turning his nose up, “He was jus’ leavin’.”
“Do whatever you want, Cajun, just don’t think I’m gonna save you from whatever
trouble you get yourself into,” the stranger groused and left, but not before
shooting Toad a withering glare.
Yup, his dick had certainly receded up inside of him with that look.
“Remy is de definition of ‘trouble’, the youth purred at the retreating form,
locking the door behind him. “So, where were we?”
“I was just about to splash some water on my face and call you a cab,” Mortimer
said, taking to the sink.
“Non non,” Remy said, pressing himself bodily against the other’s broad back.
“Remy ‘members you offered ‘im a hand job.”
Toad seized up, the tap running, one hand bracing himself on the sink, the
other still gripping the toggle of the tap. He drew in a sharp breath when
slender fingers started working at his front again.
“Or we could do it like dis,” Remy said, a breath ghosting along Mortimer’s
neck.
Toad turned around, fully meaning to tell the young man, yet again, that he was
drunk. That he should go home. That he shouldn’t harass strange men in bars.
But the words died in his throat at the long, lean, hard body pressed against
him. He let out a breath. Meant to push the other away. Didn’t know how his
fingers got tangled in auburn locks.

When the stranger made to kiss him, Mortimer finally got his wits about him.
“I don’t taste good,” he warned.
“You won’t be de worst tasting t’ing Remy’s ever put in ‘is mout’,” the redhead
said, trying to reassure him. Took his lips anyway and pulled his shirt from
his slacks.
Mortimer, stunned, let him. Closed his eyes as the other forced his tongue past
the seal of his lips. Let his mouth open for the other to explore. Let his
tongue be sucked into the warm, moist, whisky kissed cavern of the other man.
And maybe let his tongue extend the slightest bit, shocked all over again when
Remy moaned. Moaned himself when Remy sucked his tongue down his throat,
working it like a pro would his cock. Devilish tip of his tongue found the
underside of Mortimer’s and just flicked there. It tingled uncomfortably.
Wonderfully. Hands on his belt buckle short-circuited his brain.
He tried to pull back, but the other’s mouth was a force to be reckoned with.
Bobbing his head and flexing his throat around the muscle down it, sucking
expertly and never breaking lip contact.
The hands in his pants were just great. Really. Slender fingers slipping into
his briefs and wrapping around his hard length.
“Oh, cher,” Remy breathed, finally breaking the kiss. Panting against his neck.
“Why don’ you share dis wit’ de world?”
Mortimer moaned, gripped the other’s hair harder. Whined when his slacks fell
to his ankles. Let Remy’s slender, talented fingers work him just so. Pulled
his hair a little, loved the quiet little mewl-like moan.
“Need ta get a seat,” Remy purred, pulling back, taking a mindless Mortimer
with him into one of the stalls. Pushing him down on the toilet seat. Lost his
own pants. Long, lean, shapely cock, head beaded with precum begging Mortimer
to touch. He did.
Hands shot out to Remy’s waist, pulled him closer by the hips. Tongue shot out,
maybe a bit too hard, but Remy didn’t seem to have any complaints about the
muscle curled around his length. No, he certainly didn’t, with his fingers in
Mortimer’s hair, thrusting his hips forward, expressing his delight in French.
“Dat tongue, oh Que le Seigneur ait pitié, je suis faible,” he babbled,
thrusting his hips. Whining. Tearing at Mortimer’s scalp, pulling at brown
near-curls. Mortimer’s thumbs dug into the space between his hipbones and
quivering muscles and the boy keened. “Stop, stop, or dis’ll be over,” he
pleaded.
Mortimer sat back and slurped his tongue back into his mouth, looking up at the
lightly sweating younger man. His eyes were blown so wide – red irises just a
sparkle amidst all that black.
“Remy wants more,” he clarified after getting his breathing under control. He
kicked off his pants and shoes and straddled Mortimer’s thick legs, his thick,
throbbing cock. “Remy wants dis big ol’ wonder of yours in his tight little
back side.”
“Wait,” Toad said urgently, reaching out to keep the other from hurting
himself.
“You don’ want?” the redhead asked, wriggling in his grip.
“I do. I do, just,” Mortimer said and let out an exasperated sigh.
He really wanted to bury himself in the young man. Watch those creamy pale
thighs quiver with the feeling of holding himself up while he was stretched
open so wide. Couldn’t allow the other to hurt himself. Had to remember.
Remy licked his hand and smirked. Brought it down around Toad’s cock, pumping
it twice and starting over from the beginning. He pulled back to lean over the
other’s knees and let a trail of spit drip from his mouth down over the hard,
off-color cock that twitched in response. Spread it over his length. Made
Mortimer shake. Got back up where he wanted to be and took ahold of Toad’s
cock, angling it and himself to where he could work it in.
“Jus’ gotta work it in nice ‘n’ slow,” Remy said, still holding Mortimer’s cock
as he rocked himself from side to side, pushing down ever so slightly to take
his length in that much more. Pressing against the muscle, easing the cock
inside him. Remy was no beginner. Mortimer reminded himself over and over again
not to take the boy by the hips and ram his cock home. Don’t force him down.
Don’t make him scream. Don’t hurt him. Just grip the edge of the toilet seat
and hold on for the ride.
Remy let out a little puff of air when the other’s cock was fully sheathed in
him.
“Bigger’n Remy’s used to,” he admitted into Mortimer’s neck. “Thicker, an’way,”
he said, rearing back and grabbing onto Mortimer’s still clothed shoulders,
panting and purring at the stretch of it. “Gawd,” he breathed. He lifted
himself just a bit, bouncing slightly. Panting with each tiny movement.
Toad had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out when the taller man started
riding him in earnest.
“Yeah,” he whimpered, “yeah, fuck Remy real good.”
The kid lost his words when Mortimer grabbed ahold of his hips and drove him
down on his cock. The other’s insides squeezed him, seemed to pulse and throb
and maybe that was his cock, but it felt so damn good to fuck up into the kid.
After a minute of silent moaning, eyes closed, head pitched forward, Remy
sought out Toad’s lips again. He sucked that tongue back into his mouth and bit
down lightly. He growled when it earned him a powerful throb of Mortimer’s
cock. Sucked the tongue down his throat and didn’t quite care what he looked
like, both holes filled and so close to orgasm.
One of Mortimer’s hands moving to brush over the underside of his straining
cock had him shooting off, thankful for the tongue that muffled his scream.
Mindful of a potential mess, Mortimer took him in hand and angled his prick
away from his shirt, stroked him through his orgasm. When the redhead let up on
his tongue, Mortimer grabbed Remy by the hips and pulled him down hard, making
the redhead whimper. He couldn’t do much more than ride the waves, his hole
fluttering and spasming around the thickening prick until – and he whined
loudly – he was pulled off and forced to stand on his own, bracing himself on
the wall behind the commode, looking down as Toad came. And came and came,
stroking himself through it and catching his seed in his free hand.
After a short groan, he slumped back.
“Damn,” Mortimer whispered and reached for some toilet tissue. Remy shivered
and grinned and let himself be cleaned and helped back into his pants. He
stumbled a bit when they left the stall and washed his hands in the sink,
Mortimer using the one next to him. The younger man stumbled when they left the
john and Mortimer sighed.
He talked to the bartender about calling the young man a cab.
When it arrived, he led Remy outside and stuffed him in the back seat,
overpaying the cabbie. The man from earlier watched through the window as Tad
tried to work directions to where the young man was staying from Remy to tell
the cabbie. He finally got them, relieved.
“T’anks for de fun, homme,” Remy said, winking at Toad.
Mortimer smirked.
“Stay out of trouble, kid.”
“Remy can’t do dat!” the redhead called out the window as the driver started
off. “See ya ‘roound, homme!”
“Probably not!” Toad called after him and gave an amused snort. When the man
from earlier stalked out of the bar, he did a double take.
Or possibly he would…
***** Blob 2 (Evolution) (E!) *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Hey,” Todd says, and with the way the word is spoken, Freddy knows exactly
what he wants.
His eyes are still red. He’s still in battle mode, smiling awkwardly and ready
to be brought back to Earth. Unlike everyone else, well, with the exception of
Pietro, he doesn’t always calm down once the fight is over. Sometimes he needs
a little help.
Lance and Pietro are gone. Some dance, maybe. Neither Freddy nor Todd want to
go ever again after what happened with the last one.
But that was then and this is now, and Todd needs a shoulder, a hand, a pair of
lips.
The first time it had happened, Freddy had been taken by surprise. Todd
couldn’t sit still. He wiggled out of his battle gear and, in just his boxers,
started climbing all over Freddy. He writhed and whined and clawed at Freddy
until the bigger boy, almost a man at seventeen-and-a-half, pulled the sixteen
year old down in his lap. The dirty blonde had pressed their lips together and
bit down and the rest was history.
Now, though, Todd needed to be touched, to be cared for, and he keened when
Freddy pulled him close. He panted a bit as he reached up to grip at Freddy’s
chest, something he seemingly loved doing. Freddy wondered if it was because
his chest reminded him of female breasts, but put the thought from his mind as
he hauled the smaller blonde up by his back and one thigh. Todd’s arms wound
their way around Freddy’s neck and he pressed himself as close to the older boy
as he could get, as much contact as he could possibly create is what he was
after. The hand on Todd’s back moved down over his ass, tracing the seam of his
jeans and the younger mutant humped back against it and strained forward at the
same time.
“Please, please,” Todd begged, kissing and sucking and biting at the plentiful
skin of Freddy’s neck that he had access to, “before they get back. I want-“
Todd was silenced with a kiss. A very tender kiss, the kind that he always lost
himself to; forgot how to make words with hands and lips on him and maybe still
bleeding from a battle wound, that confrontation and every one that came before
it fresh in his mind. Todd’s tongue was insistent. It was kind of hard to
ignore. Very hard to ignore when it was filling Freddy’s mouth, exploring down
his throat. It almost felt like it was tickling his tonsils. It very well
may’ve been. The mowhawked mutant was thankful for his lack of a gag reflex,
and no, no one but Todd knew about that.
He has to ease Todd back a bit, ignore the other’s protesting for long enough
to get up and take them to one of their rooms. Freddy’s, usually, because the
bed is better suited for two people. Not that they hadn’t fooled around on
Todd’s bed before – horny teenagers can make any surface work, but Freddy’s was
just better.
Once there, Freddy shucked off his shoes. Todd’s were already gone. They were
back to kissing, hands roaming as the older boy took to sitting on the end of
his bed, Todd still pressed to him tightly.
“Please, man. C’mon, just fuck me already,” Todd hissed, humping against
Freddy’s belly and pushing back against his thighs in turn. “Please.”
“I’ll get you there,” Blob assured the other, hand splayed on the other’s back,
“just relax.”
“I can’t,” Todd whined, stretching, pressing against the hand. He whined again
- keened - when Freddy’s other hand found the side of his face and neck. The
blonde turned into the hand and took the thick thumb into his too-wide mouth.
Freddy let out a quiet sound of pleasure, pressing his thumb further into the
moist, sticky, wanting mouth.
Freddy found his ability to think dissolving with the way the other’s
prehensile tongue wrapped around his thumb, with the way Todd hollowed his
cheeks and sucked. “Todd,” Freddy whispered, and had to close his eyes when
Todd hummed and those red eyes darted over to him. He felt Todd grasp his wrist
and start bobbing his head, sucking harder. “Alright, hey,” Freddy started,
moving the hand on Todd’s back down to his backside. “Let’s get our clothes
off, OK?”
Todd reluctantly let off of the thumb, his tongue flicking out for one last
taste of the salty treat. He crawled off of Freddy’s lap and started stripping
out of his gear, laying on his back on the bed.
Freddy always felt guilty during this part of their activities. As he stood to
remove his own clothing, watching Todd lick his lips and whimper, he reminded
himself over and over that they’d talked about this after the first time it had
happened.
”I’m sorry,” Todd had mumbled, his voice wavering. He clung to Blob’s neck as
the other rested his head on the wall, his arms wrapped around the slender body
under his.
“What? For what?”
“For,” and he had to pause, choking back sobs, turning his head away when he
realized tears were pooling in his yellowing eyes. “God,” Todd said, bringing
one hand up to wipe his mouth, then his eyes. “I’m sorry for taking advantage
of you.” Todd tried to disentangle himself from Freddy when the larger boy
snorted.
“Hey,” Freddy said, lifting himself enough to get his head away from the wall,
bracing himself with one arm while pulling Toad closer with the other. “If I
hadn’t wanted it, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Yeah, but I-“
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I know how it feels to need to be close to
someone,” he said, planting a kiss on the side of Todd’s head. “I want to be
close to someone, too,” Freddy admitted, carefully turning on his side, letting
Todd curl up against him. “I know how it hurts, ya know. Nobody wants us and
it’s lonely. We get lonely and needy and sometimes it’s worse than other times
and sometimes you have to turn to a friend to relieve that feeling.” Freddy ran
his thick fingers through the other’s hair that was growing longer with each
passing month. “I’m kinda glad you did that, ya know.”
“Really?” Todd asked, playing with and scratching at the small patch of hair on
his larger friend’s chest between his oversized breasts.
“Yeah,” Blob said, letting Todd take the hand that had been in his hair to
bring it between them to play with the chubby fingers. “I,” and he paused, not
really wanting to say what was about to follow. When Todd looked up at him, the
words caught in his throat. He took a few deep breaths to try to relax his
clenched throat. “I know people don’t want to have sex with me. I know most
people don’t even want to be around me. You’re one of very few. I don’t mean to
be rude, but I’ll take what I can get. Friends and sex, and let me say all of
this before you say anything, OK?” Todd nodded in response, watching his friend
with rapt fascination, all traces of sadness and desperation gone from his
face. He was now just curious and almost back to his regular behavior. “I’m not
really, like, attracted to you, but I do care about you, and this seems to be
good for both of us, so, I mean, like, if you want to do this again, I’m good.
As long as it doesn’t hurt our friendship. Yeah. I think that’s all I’ve got to
say.”
“Oh, thank god,” Todd breathed. Then he laughed. Smiled. Wrapped his arms
around Freddy’s neck to the best of his ability and said “I feel the same. I
love you, but, like, not like I’d marry. You’re the only person I really trust,
though, so, yeah. I’d like to do this again. But,” he trailed off for a moment.
“A little cuddling after, but no mushy stuff in the morning. Deal?”
“Sounds good to me,” Blob said with a chuckle.
Todd made progressively needier sounds as Freddy disrobed. When the larger man
turned to assure the other that he’d join him shortly and just needed to grab
the lotion off the bedside stand, his breath caught. Todd had three fingers of
one hand teasingly dragging up and down his length and two fingers of the other
slicked with off-color spit spreading himself open.
Freddy didn’t usually find Todd attractive. The longer haired mutant was far
too boyish in his day-to-day behavior and appearance. But something about the
way he was arched, in a way that Blob knew was painful for the smaller mutant,
something about the way he sucked and bit on his lip triggered something in the
larger man. There was a feminine grace about Todd’s movements in that moment,
something that could let Freddy believe that he was bedding a transwoman. He’d
question why that thought made his dick twitch later.
“I don’t need any lotion. You know I’m stretchy down here. C’mon,” Todd urged,
his voice higher as he whined the words.
Freddy joined him quickly, at least for someone of his bulk, and ran the
fingers of his left hand through Todd’s hair. He freed the other’s lip from his
teeth with the thumb of his right. As he pressed their lips together, Todd
grabbed blindly for his cock, which he found hard and leaking. The smaller
mutant maneuvered himself under the bigger form, literally pushing his belly
out of the way to get to his prick. It was easier to hook his legs over Blob’s
thighs rather than around his gut, so he spread himself wide, using his heels
to brace himself at the back of the thick thighs. He let out an irritated noise
and broke the kiss when Blob held him still.
“Yeah, I want my dick in you just as much as you do, but I don’t want to hurt
you,” he chastised. Todd huffed, but relented, moving his hands up to the
other’s neck.
The bigger man reached between them, pushing up one of Toad’s legs, bending it
back almost to his shoulder so he could take hold of his own cock and guide it
slowly into the trembling mutant. Even though Todd grunted and tried to push
back, tried to pull with his heels, Blob kept up the steady pace, whispering
sweet nothings as he did so.
It wasn't long before they were moving together, both panting with each thrust.
Todd eagerly bounced on his friend’s prick, practically swinging under the man
who braced himself on his knees and one hand, the other under Todd to hold him
close and not let his movements get too rowdy.
“Bite me,” Todd rasped out.
“What?”
“Ah, fuck, bite me!” Todd hissed, his inner walls clamping down around the
turgid, throbbing, half-foot prick inside him.
Not one to be able to deny anyone something in the heat of the moment, Freddy
latched on to Todd’s shoulder with his teeth and clamped down, being rewarded
with a scream and a hand pulling on his mowhawk.
“Here. Do it here,” Todd demanded, moving the other’s mouth to his neck,
tilting his head back to make way for the larger man’s chins.
When Freddy obediently bit down on the thin, sensitive skin, Todd went still. A
short-lived, shrill screech passed his lips before fading into a silent scream.
Pleasure erupted in both of them as Todd came all over his friend’s gut,
insides spasming on the overly sensitive length.
“Fuck. ‘M gonna cum,” Freddy warned, pushing harder into the unbearably tight
hole of his still-lost, incoherent-from-pleasure friend. Todd whimpered at the
sensation of Freddy’s prick taking on the quality of steel before painting his
well-used passage with cum. He clung tightly to the bigger man until he sagged
down, letting Todd rest on the bed completely.
The smaller mutant didn’t want Freddy to pull out just yet, whimpering when he
did so and quickly closing his legs. The mattress jumped when Blob flopped down
beside him, and Todd couldn’t do much to resist, still overly sensitive, when
Freddy threw an arm over him. He made no attempt to pin the other down or pull
him close, but after he got his wits about him Todd snuggled in close.
“Thanks,” he said, tucking his head to Freddy’s chest.
“Yeah. You too.”
Chapter End Notes
     I have no words. Hopefully y'all can leave me some in the comments.
     As for the comments I've received so far; I will have a Logan/Todd
     coming soon, but a prompt would be helpful for a Quicksilver/Toad
     story.
***** Wolverine (Evolution) (E!) *****
Chapter Notes
     This one's a little long and a tiny bit dark and kinda filthy.
“What’re you doing out here, kid?” Logan asked, killing the engine of his bike.
He looked over at the greenish-tan mutant who ducked into the shadows in a
half-assed attempt to get away from the feral man on the motorcycle.
“Th’ fuck’s it look like? Tryin’ ta make a livin’,” the younger man hissed. He
pulled at the red crop top he wore, trying to hide his gaunt stomach from
Logan’s scrutinizing gaze. He knew the other could see it even from his
position in the dark and that look of pity made him want to squirm.
“You don’t need to be out here,” Logan said as an offer.
“Says the guy who lives in a cushy mansion and has all his shit paid for by an
old fart who got daddy’s money,” came the sharp retort. Todd wanted to leave,
wished his tan capris covered a little more. He longed for the long sleeved
shirt he wore in high school, “and I’m not a kid anymore. I’m twenty-god-damn-
three.”
“Ain’t you cold?”
“Do I look cold?” Todd bit back, pulling his hair over one shoulder.
“Yeah,” Wolverine said bluntly. He rolled his eyes at the way Todd huffed. “Get
on,” he said, nodding backward.
“Are you fucking buying me? Because I ain’t doin’ shit with you unless it’s for
money, and lots of it.”
Logan sighed. “We can talk about that once we get you some place warm. C’mon,”
he urged.
With a vague, grumbled protest, Todd ambled into the light. He tucked his chin
to his chest as he stalked over to the bike and cautiously climbed on.
The hotel room was just around the corner, still in the seedy part of town.
Luckily it wasn’t bug-ridden and the bed was made, but it was run down and
everything – the toilet, the shower, the bed, the bedside stand – was clearly
several years old. If either man cared to look, the bible in the drawer had a
ripped cover and frayed edges. There was cocaine residue in the grooves on the
stand and old, questionable stains on the sheets. And the wall, and the carpet.
“So, what do you want?” Todd asked, sitting on the bed and splaying his legs
wide. He leaned back and pushed his hips forward, exploiting his double-
jointedness to show off everything, hoping his stomach didn’t look too concave.
“I’ve got lots of talents, but most prefer my tongue,” he husked, grinning.
Todd licked his lips and lidded his eyes, showing off the way his lids were
decorated with pink and white glittering powders that made his eyes look a
little less sunken in.
“I ain’t interested in that, bub,” Logan said. But Todd knew better. He could
smell Logan’s arousal just as well as the other could smell his. It was a
talent he’d evolved in the last couple of years as his body matured and his
mutation continued to exhibit new features. He also knew Logan had a well-
hidden hero complex. If he could convince Logan that he was saving him, he knew
he’d get the big bank.
“Then what do you want, handsome?” Todd asked, laying back to run his hands
over his thick thighs. He knew his painted nails looked a little gaudy, but
that was the point – to draw attention in any way that he could. “I’m up for
anal, but it’s two-hundred bucks.”
“You’re an expensive date,” Logan quipped.
“I’m a rarity,” Todd answered, flipping his hair back while sitting up. “So.
Gonna fuck me or what?”
“I’m gonna try to convince you to come to the school, kid,” Logan said,
slinging his jacket on the back of the one wooden chair provided in the room.
Toad scoffed.
“They don’t want me there. They’d probably think I’d spread diseases on th’
toilet seats, or somethin’.”
“Would you?” Logan asked with a raised brow.
“What’s it matter?” Todd asked, leaning back again. “Don’t your… healing factor
keep you from getting whore’s diseases? At least, Sabretooth always said that
it did,” Todd said, throwing the comment out there while looking at the chipped
finish on his nails.
Tension in the room spiked and Todd reveled in the growl that bubbled up in
Logan’s throat.
“You’re better than this, kid,” and Todd wasn’t sure if Logan meant using
Sabretooth as a barb or prostitution, but he didn’t particularly care. The
feral mutant was about to fall right into his trap.
“You’re the only one who seems to think so,” Todd said with a quiet sigh,
laying back once more and rolling over to show off his perky, shapely rear –
one of his few physical assets Todd was actually proud of.
“Cut it out, brat. I ain’t gonna fuck you,” Logan snarled.
“Says the guy who is about’a break his zipper,” Toad teased.
Logan stood quickly, his chair falling over behind him.
“Get up,” he ordered.
“Why? You paid for the room. You should enjoy it.” Todd rolled over and looked
at the huffing, growling older man. He raked his nails over his own stomach and
pushed up his shirt. “Ooh, or do you want me against the wall? I think I can
work with that.”
Toed gasped at Logan’s grip as he grabbed him by the bicep. For a moment he was
afraid he may have finally pushed too hard. Wolverine wasn’t known for being
very patient.
“I’m trying to help you. Why don’t you understand that?” Wolverine asked, his
voice low, quiet. Warning or caring, Todd couldn’t quite tell.
“What would help me most is if ya bought me,” Todd said, trying to pull away.
His face scrunched up in pain as he tugged, half sitting, half held up by
Logan. It wasn’t the worst position he’d found himself in and his discomforted
expressions were mostly for the other’s benefit, even though there was a
glimmer of real fear and irritation behind his act. “I gotta eat somehow,” he
muttered, turning his eyes away.
Todd could barely resist grinning at the way the room’s scent changed. Logan
was torn, but his desire to possess, to be right and in control was winning out
over everything else. The feral mutant relaxed his grip and braced himself with
one knee on the bed between Todd’s spread thighs.
“There’s food at the school,” Logan rumbled quietly. “The least we can do is
feed you,” he said as he ran his hand carefully up and down the smooth skin
over his partner’s leanly muscled arm. It was a silent apology for his rough
grip.
Todd brought his free hand up to tangle in Logan’s hair and watched his
nostrils flare. He watched the way the other’s lip rose in what would have been
a snarl in any other situation. The younger mutant finally freed his other arm
from Logan’s grip and wrapped it around the other’s thick neck.
“I’d rather be surrounded by people who only want me for my body than by people
who don’t want me at all,” Todd whispered into Logan’s ear, enjoying the way
the other’s facial muscles bunched. His brows creased and Todd could see the
movement of the muscles in his cheek closest to Wolverine’s ear. His ear was a
sensitive thing, and Logan’s blood started pumping faster when Todd chuckled
softly into it and gave the lobe a flick with his tongue. “If you don’t want
me, you’re wasting my time,” he hissed quietly.
Todd let out a helpless sound when Logan pushed him back on the bed, his hands
falling away from the burly neck and shoulders. He parted his too-thin lips and
whimpered, keeping his hands in place over his head as the shorter man held him
in place by a bruising grip on his ribs. Logan surveyed his face, his nose
wrinkling as he scented the air. The older man let out a decidedly unhuman
snort and got up from the bed, dragging his brutish hands down Todd’s torso as
he did. The blonde arched into the touch for a moment, whining when Logan
turned away.
Logan took a wad of bills from his pocket and threw it on the bed beside the
prone younger man and stalked off toward the bathroom.
While Logan splashed his face with cool water, Todd counted the bills. He
hummed in approval at the amount of cash.
“Looks like I’m yours for the rest of the night,” Todd said with a teasing,
sexual lilt to his voice as he slipped off his shoes and slipped the bills into
one of them.
“Are you hungry?” Wolverine asked as he dried his face on the cheap towel.
“Not particularly,” Todd said, taking up residence at the end of the bed
closest to the bathroom. He laid on his stomach, propping his chin up on his
hands. “But if you want the girlfriend experience, I can give you that.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Logan said as he emerged from the bathroom. He leaned
against the doorframe and stared down at Todd with what the younger man could
only call a ‘disappointed pout’.
“Then what do you want from me, Logan?” Todd asked, running his fingers through
his hair. He was starting to get tired of this game, and not for the first
time. It had been easy in the beginning, but Wolverine made it so tiresome.
“I want a better life for you, kid,” the older man said, his voice tinged with
softness that made Todd look away. He wasn’t sure who was falling into whose
trap anymore. He let his head be tilted up by a strong hand. Todd buried his
nose in the other’s wrist and took a deep breath. Logan was still aroused.
Still wanted him. He smirked the slightest bit before letting his tongue
unfurl, slowly wrapping it’s length around the thick, veiny wrist. Logan drew
in a sharp breath and tried to pull his hand back. Todd let him, getting to his
knees on the bed.
“When you let me earn my money instead of stealing it, you are giving me a
better life,” he said, reaching out for the belt loops of the older man’s
jeans. Wolverine let himself be pulled close, unable to deny the fact that he
was aroused when Todd pressed his cheek to his half-hard cock through his
pants.
“You can earn it-“ Wolverine had to stop for a moment as he watched awkwardly
shaped fingers make quick work of his button and fly “-by working with kids
like you used to be. Keeping them off the streets.” He gasped at the sensation
of a slick palm and fingers tugging on his thickening cock. “You don’t have to
do this.”
“You want it,” Todd answered, then let his tongue hang out of his mouth. He
carefully maneuvered Logan’s jeans down enough to reach in and pull out his
sack, fondling it gently before letting it rest back against the zipper.
“I-“ Logan started, trailing off into a groan as Todd’s tongue slithered down
the length of his cock and timidly curled around his lightly fuzzed testicles.
The tongue retreated from the stones and wrapped around the shaft. Logan only
got to watch the slick muscle work his organ for a few seconds before Todd’s
mouth enveloped him and the younger man turned big, yellow eyes up at him. He
cursed quietly and cupped the back of Todd’s head. “’S good,” Logan groaned,
trying not to push forward, carefully raking his nails through blonde locks.
After a moment Logan had to pull back. Todd whined, letting his tongue hang
from his mouth. After a moment of panting and gazing up at Wolverine’s twisted
up features, he slurped his tongue back into his mouth. “Did you want something
else?” he asked, leaning down and arching his back, putting his apple-shaped,
tan-clad butt on display. He wiggled his hips and his own cock strained against
the buttons of his pants. He let out a soft noise, not denying for a second
that Wolverine turned him on. Logan was one of his favorite johns. He didn’t
need to unbutton his pants to slip them down his slender hips, to free his cock
and wriggle until they rested below the curves of his ass. He licked one hand
and slid two fingers between the cheeks, doing nothing more than teasing over
the hole and casting sideways glances up at Logan. “I’m really stretchy back
here. I’m told it feels just like a pussy,” the blonde said, taking his fingers
back to lick them again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, Logan?” he asked, spreading
himself just a little wider.
Instead of the growl of arousal and bearing of teeth he was expecting, instead
of demands that Todd hurry up and get ready for him that the blonde figured was
coming, Logan frowned. The older man brought his own hand to his cock and gave
it a few slow, drawn-out pulls, looking at Todd’s confused face rather than
what his fingers were doing.
“Don’t talk like that, kid,” he said, taking Todd’s chin with his free hand. He
brought the younger mutant up to his knees and joined him on the bed. He
pressed himself against the slender body and threaded his fingers in long
locks, his other hand leaving his cock to take hold of Todd’s arm and bring it
around himself. Todd just held on, trying to stifle the quiet noises he was
making at the sensation of his slender cock dragging over Logan’s abs and the
coarse hair there, his precum wetting it. “Here, just-“ Logan started, but cut
himself off, using the hand not in the other’s hair to part his thighs and
slide between them, finding the other’s hole for himself with his fingers. It
was a difficult thing with the pants not quite halfway down his thighs, but
Wolverine managed, pressing in one thick digit. A second soon followed, and
less than a few minutes later, Todd was pushing onto the fingers and grunting
irritably.
“More,” Todd whined. “Know you wanna fuck me. Just do I already,” Todd hissed.
“Get’cher pants off, then,” Logan growled.
“You first,” Todd tried to tease, but it came out breathy as the meaty fingers
left him.
Both hurriedly shucked their pants and Logan pulled off his shirt that he’d had
rucked up. He spread his legs as he rested on his knees on the bed and Todd
took a moment to appreciate the sight before climbing on top of him. It was a
precarious position, braced over Logan who was only halfway on the bed, but it
made the act all that more exciting.
When Todd sank down on Logan’s engorged prick, the monstrous man groaned and
threw his head back.
“Yeah,” Todd moaned, carding his fingers in the thicker man’s chest hair, “give
it to me.”
“Ah, fuck,” Logan growled, taking a grip of Todd’s hip. “Shut up,” he demanded,
free hand once more in blonde locks, this time forcing the other into a
bruising, scratchy, desperate kiss. Todd let it go on for a moment, his tongue
sucked into the other’s mouth, split open on the throbbing cock and loving
every second of it. But he soon had to break the kiss or the delicate game they
were playing would be broken.
“You’re not supposed to kiss a whore, Logan,” Todd whined against a stubbled
cheek. He bounced on the turgid length, eyes half-lidded, lips parted and Logan
said something, but he missed it. “You’re my favorite,” Todd whined, his own
prick leaking copious amounts of fluid against the abs which he was rocked
against with every thrust of Logan’s hips.
“I bet you say that to everyone,” Logan bit out, already close to orgasm,
holding the tiny hips for dear life.
“Fuck, I really don’t. I really, really don’t,” Todd whined and it sounded too
true for the comfort of either man, so Logan picked up his pace, thick arms
winding tightly around Todd’s middle as the other held onto his neck.
Todd was nearly silent when he came, pulling back as much as he could without
throwing off the feral mutant’s rhythm to watch bursts of sticky cum paint the
sweat-moistened fur of Logan’s stomach. The only sound he let out was a
staggered breath, each jet of cum causing a hitch in his breathing. Logan
buried his face in the slender neck, licked and kissed the sharp collarbones as
he chased his own orgasm in the spasming passage.
Todd gasped at the heat that blossomed in his stomach when Logan growled and
ground him down hard, making sure the smaller body milked him of every last
drop.
Todd let his head rest on Wolverine’s shoulder as the two came down from the
high, both panting, chasing air that almost didn’t seem to exist in the
suffocating heat. Eventually they caught some stray oxygen, and it wasn’t long
until Logan started lazily rolling his hips again. The prick that had never
really softened completely was filling with blood again and straining against
Todd’s inner walls.
“Gonna kill me, Wolvie,” Todd teased, pulling back to look at the other’s face.
The older man smirked slightly, nudging Todd’s chin up with his nose to kiss
and lightly nip at the pronounced Adam’s apple. “You said you were mine all
night,” he reminded.
As it turned out, Logan wasn’t so torn up about the act of fucking a mutant
prostitute when he was in the middle of said act, and a couple of hours later,
Todd found himself sprawled out on his stomach, having lost his shirt at some
point in the festivities, with Wolverine nipping at the spots along his back.
Todd whined helplessly as Wolverine toyed with his testicles, smearing his
emissions that had dribbled from Todd’s well-used hole around the slightly
swollen pucker and the wrinkles of skin nearby.
“You’re a fucking monster,” Todd joked.
“What, it was only four,” Logan quipped back.
“Only four, he says. I won’t walk right for days,” Todd whined, pushing back
against the fingers that teased and gently pried open his hole anyway.
“One more, and then we’ll stop,” Wolverine said, straddling the other’s thighs,
smearing his own cum about the twitching, leaking orifice with his still-eager
prick.
“Mm,” the blonde acquiesced, trying to spread his thighs for the other, who
simply held him in place and slid home, gently rocking into the wet passage.
“Tell me if it’s too sore, and I’ll stop,” the older mutant advised, grinding
himself into and against the other.
“Yeah,” Todd answered dreamily, once more letting the other have his way with
his body. He enjoyed the sensation of the thick prick dragging over his
prostate, but his cock didn’t give more than a half-hearted twitch, already
having come twice from Logan’s earlier pounding. The blonde shivered at the
grunt that ruffled his hair and another gush of Logan’s seed, though much
smaller this time, filling him.
After a few minutes of soft growling into the younger mutant’s shoulder, Logan
stood and grabbed his jacket. He took from it a pack of cigarettes and lit one,
offering the pack and lighter to Todd that followed suit, making and effort not
to move his lower body too much.
“I’m a mess,” Todd mused as smoke curled upward from his mouth.
“One more round in the shower? Fuck it all outta ya, then actually clean you
up?” Logan suggested.
“No wonder you paid me so much,” Todd noted with a quiet scoff, “you’re
insatiable!”
Another hour later found them both relatively clean, laying on the bed, which
had been stripped of the messy comforter, with their pants back on. Todd ran
his fingers through Logan’s chest hair, pulling idly on his nipples while they
shared more cigarettes.
“Quit messin’ with my nipples, I need a break,” Logan growled. Todd snorted.
“Go to sleep then. The sun’ll be up soon. I need to go pay my electric bill
today, anyway,” he said as he found his shirt and put it back on. Logan sat up
and watched Todd slip on his shoes.
“I meant what I said,” Logan started, “about the school. You’re always welcome
there.”
Todd blinked a few times, staring at Logan. The other usually drifted off after
a shower and one last orgasm in the form of a blowjob or handjob and didn’t
harass him further about the institute. Todd had always thought it was a ploy,
just something Logan said to make himself feel better about using a young male
prostitute, a game they played that got them what they both wanted in the end.
Money, in Todd’s case, and someone who could handle multiple rough fucks in
Logan’s.
“And I meant what I said about them not wanting me there,” Todd finally
responded. “I’m fine with this, Logan, and I’m pretty sure you are, too,” he
said, stepping closer to the feral mutant, splaying his hands on the other’s
thighs. When Logan leaned up to kiss him, Todd was shocked by how much he
wanted it, but wasn’t ready to let the game end yet, so he turned his head and
Logan’s lips found his cheek. “Goodnight, Logan,” Todd said with an air of
finality. “I’ll see you next week,” he added a bit bitterly as he headed out
the door. He didn’t slam it because he had no desire to. He let it click closed
softly behind him and wondered what Logan was doing and thinking inside that
room as he started out toward the sidewalk.
He wondered who would win their game if it ever ended. Would he give in and go
to the school to show Logan that he was right, that no one would want him there
and they’d force themselves to be nice and hate every moment of it, or would
Logan just stop coming around, leaving him with customers that weren’t willing
to pay quite so much to get their freaky rocks off. He found that he wasn’t
really in a hurry to find out, and thought about other things as he swung his
small keyring on the way home, like what he’d do with the five hundred or so
dollars he’d have left over after he paid his electric and heat bills.
***** Sabretooth (Movieverse) (E!) *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Mortimer heard Sabretooth’s snarling long before he heard the booted foot
falls. Oh, the older man was pissed. Toad looked up to the rafters above his
little work-station, judging the distance, doing the math in his head in almost
an instant to figure out if he could make the leap. When he realized he could,
his devious smirk became a full-blown grin. He was going to see just how much
more pissed off he could make the brutish mutant.
Sabretooth was still a few minutes out, he could tell by the echo of the
irritated noises the feral man was making, so Mortimer decided to indulge in
some of his more fond memories of the other man.
Sabretooth’s hand came down hard on the length of the green back between his
shoulder blades, pushing the slighter man’s face and chest into the cold metal
table. The cold on his chest made Mortimer shiver and his nipples tighten into
hard little deep green, nearly brown nubs, and he squirmed, wanting more than
just being held down. But, Sabretooth appeared to be just enjoying the view for
the moment.
“Come on, big guy,” Mortimer said, trying to look back, “I’m all wet and ready
for ya, just like ya like.”
Sabretooth snarled, and Mortimer wiggled more, pushing his ass up, putting it
on display. He gasped when Victor spread his cheeks with one clawed hand and
hocked a wad of spit at the eagerly twitching and surprisingly pink hole.
“Yeah, baby, give it to me,” Mortimer groaned.
Sabretooth huffed out a growl and moved his hand from Toad’s shoulder to the
back of his head, pushing his face into the cold, unforgiving metal of the
table. He watched his spit trickle past the slick hole for a moment before
removing his hand from the stiff green spikes and freed his cock from his
pants.
“Yes,” Mortimer hissed as Sabretooth shoved all eight engorged inches in in one
hard thrust.
Mortimer shivered and twitched, putting the device in his hands down. He licked
his lips and listened again for the booted footfalls, finding them even closer
than before.
Sabretooth had been drinking. An inordinate amount. The amount of whiskey the
big blonde had consumed would have killed a dozen human men his size, but
pouring bottle after bottle of amber-brown liquid down his throat had only
gotten the brute buzzed. But a buzzed brute was a fun brute for Mortimer, who
sauntered over and stole a glass for himself.
“Touchin’ my whiskey is a death sentence for most people,” the blonde growled.
“Good thin’ I’m not most people then, ey mate?” Toad teased, setting the glass
down after he’d downed its contents. “Plus, I’ll pay you back,” he said, a lilt
to his voice that made Victor’s ears perk and his brows twitch upward. “Nothin’
like some good whiskey and some even better dick. Whip it out,” Mortimer said,
palming himself through the front of his jeans.
It wasn’t like fucking around was anything new for the two of them at that
point, and neither were stupid enough not to know that the other actually
wanted it, so Sabretooth did as told, not caring that they were in a common
area of whatever makeshift base they were holed up in this week. But, Mortimer
was certain, no one would be stupid enough to call them on it when they found
him on his knees with a mouth full of Sabretooth’s cock, his own in his hand.
No one was dumb enough to deny Sabretooth this pleasure, lest they want him to
engage in another one of his personal favorite pleasures – slaughter – with
them. When Sabretooth had that kind of power over everyone but the boss
himself, it turned Mortimer on to no end to have this kind of power over
Sabretooth.
If the hands in his hair, the claws, got a little too tough, Mortimer could
‘accidentally’ let his teeth scrape the length in his mouth, fucking down his
throat. Oh, how that cock would throb, but the rough touches would cease for
the moment. When he held off Victor’s orgasm by wrapping his tongue around the
base just a little too tight and slurped at the rest of the turgid prick, the
animal would howl. And fuck, he could probably cum from the way Sabretooth’s
thrusts were fucking useless, Toad’s tongue dictating every motion. Because,
contrary to popular belief, Toad’s tongue actually was stronger than
Sabretooth’s penis, possibly even his hips though he’d never pushed the other
too far – far enough to find out.
What would push Mortimer over the edge would be the gentle touch of the clawed
hand, cupping the back of his head, nails raking through green locks carefully.
Sabretooth never begged. He didn’t even ask, but he may as well have been
screaming “please” with that gesture, and if Mortimer was touching his prick,
he’d always pick up his pace and release his captive. Let the beast chase his
own orgasm down his stretchy throat while his own consumed him.
Toad trembled with want, still grinning and probably looking a bit under the
influence to anyone who may walk by. He heard the booted footfalls stop and,
from the pregnant pause, he knew Sabretooth was scenting the air and had gotten
a dizzying whiff of his arousal. Maybe the teasing and jumping into the rafters
could wait. The booted footfalls picked up again, faster, and Mortimer shifted
around on his spinning-stool, realizing that he was hard and leaking – getting
his boxers wet and straining against his zipper. He didn’t bother adjusting
himself because the stress on his prick, the discomfort and slight pain made
him want that much more. When he heard Sabretooth snarl at someone, pissed at
being distracted from his new goal, Toad knew he had time to indulge in one
more memory before the brute got to his workroom.
For the longest time, Toad had thought Sabretooth only took him face down
because he was solely into women, but one night the brute proved him wrong. He
liked being proven wrong on occasion.
Especially by way of being shoved down on what served as Sabretooth’s bed with
the other forcing his legs apart and gently lifting his sack with a sharp-
nailed hand.
“Careful with those, mate,” Todd teased, licking his lips, grinning.
“Say it,” Sabretooth growled, nudging Mortimer’s knee aside with one furred
cheek.
“Please?” Mortimer asked, his hips straining as he lifted them to relieve the
awkward pressure of Sabretooth’s careful tugging.
“Not that,” Sabretooth rasped. “The slang for balls."
“Bullocks?” Mortimer asked. “You’re a child,” Mortimer griped when Sabretooth
snickered.
He received a snarl for that and a tug on his testicles that, to his surprise,
made his cock twitch. It curved up toward his belly and throbbed and leaked
under the tension, under Sabretooth’s threat.
“I was gonna suck you off, but you can go fuck yourself now,” the blonde
growled. Toad gasped. He pushed his stones into the other’s grip, whining when
Sabretooth pinched the skin, rolling around the delicate organs inside their
pouch.
“Please? I’m sorry, please. I bet your tongue is special too. Oh, god, I want
it. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Almost anything,” Mortimer said with a wary glance down at Sabretooth, who
snorted at the sudden change in demeanor.
“Eat my ass,” Sabretooth growled, letting his whiskers brush the length of
Mortimer’s cock. The other moaned at the rough touch to his leaking length, and
his eyes fluttered closed at the thought of tonguing Sabretooth’s asshole. His
eyes shot open.
“You washed recently?”
“’Bout twenty minutes ago,” Sabretooth growled.
“Ah, fuck yes. Come up here and sit on my face.”
Mortimer was yanked from his memories of nearly being suffocated by
Sabretooth’s ass, about the high the inability to breath and the knowledge that
he got the honor of shoving his tongue somewhere so infrequently touched by
anyone but Sabretooth himself by said brute.
“Well hello there,” Mortimer said, grunting at the way his head was being
pulled back by a meaty paw fisted in his hair.
“You reek of arousal,” Sabretooth growled. “What were you thinking about?” he
demanded.
“Most recently it was having my tongue in yer tight little ass,” Mortimer said,
his voice taking on a gravelly quality.
Sabretooth let out a sound halfway between a snarl and a grunt and leaned over
Mortimer, biting his cheek, one fang breaking the skin. Mortimer hissed.
“Christ, you fuckin’ Klingon!” Toad said, reaching up to fist a hand in blonde
locks. “If you wanted to fuck, all you had to do was say so.”
“Then let’s fuck,” Sabretooth growled, grabbing Mortimer off his stool and
throwing him over his shoulder.
Chapter End Notes
     Hey, uh, if I were to write a Brotherhood gangbang, what series would
     you guys prefer it were from?
End Notes
     This is what happens when it's two AM and I can't sleep.
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