Fic: 'Now I lay me down not to sleep' (X-Men movieverse, Bobby/John, NC-17, 1/1) Title: Now I lay me down not to sleep Fandom:X-Men movieverse Characters: Bobby/John Word Count: 517 Rating: NC-17 Spoilers: N/A Challenge: Porn Battle VI: X-Men (movie), Bobby/John, flicker Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: The flicker on the ceiling kept Bobby awake.
Now I lay me down not to sleep
The flicker on the ceiling kept Bobby awake. He could see it, off, on, off, on, off, on. Drawing him in. He closed his eyes and saw the orange reflection on the back of his eyelids. He rolled one way and was greeted with the audio. Click, click, click. He rolled the other and watched the full show, the tiny flame erupting to life over and over, the sheen to John's face and the fascination in it.
"Are you awake?" he blurted.
John scoffed. The lighter clicked off, submerging them in darkness. "What do you think?"
Maybe he was too far gone already, but John's drawl went straight to his dick. Without another word, Bobby was out of his bed and getting into John's. "I think someone needs to tire you out."
"You mean you?"
He was such an ass sometimes. The only problem with that was how much it turned Bobby on. "Yeah. I mean me." And he pushed his tongue into John's mouth.
John always kissed hard, almost too hard. Bobby fought for breath when hands clawed at his ass, when teeth scraped against his lower lip. He ground against John, pinned underneath, and found a hard bulge awaiting him.
Bobby took John's swollen cock in his hands. It was heavy with need and he ran his tongue around the ridge, sucked just the tip into his mouth. He drew his tongue flat, embracing the moisture there, and braced for John's impatient thrusts. Bobby could understand impatience, could understand when you couldn't sleep and your own hand just wasn't enough. Bobby thought he should make John wait, make him understand that Bobby was not there to be at his beck and call, but he understood want and need better than anyone. So he took him in, as much as he could, wrapping warm fingers around the rest and squeezing, stroking, sucking. He fed off John's growls of pleasure, sustaining himself.
Bobby pulled back for breath, concentrated and traced icy-cold fingers down John's throbbing length, earning a grunt of surprise and frustration. "Fuck, Drake." Bobby sucked John back into his warm, willing mouth, finding his own rhythm despite the urgent tugs of John's hands in his hair. He glanced up once to see John twisting against the sheets, mouth open in helpless pleasure. The way John was fascinated with fire, Bobby was fascinated with John. He stroked John's balls in his hand, lapped his tongue against the most sensitive spot on John's cock, and John came into him.
John panted and Bobby was rigid, aching, close to bursting. His erection was thick through the flap of his boxers, and with some nudging, Bobby redirected John's hand there. John curled tight and handled Bobby harshly, wringing him out. A few strokes and he was done, gone, exploding across John's thigh and the sheets. He buried his face in John's stomach and let out a defeated moan.
"Think you can sleep now?" said John.
"Yeah," groaned Bobby, scrunched on the twin mattress but sated and sleepy. His eyes fluttered shut to the click, click, click of John's lighter.