Title: View from The Outside
Author: Bronze DragonBlade
Rating: NC-21 Adult language, Graphic m/m sexual situation, and content
Pairing: Logan/Remy Warren/Bobby (implied)
E-mail: dragonbladexx@yahoo.com
Web page: http://www.geocities.com/dragonbladexx
Disclaimers: X-Men are copyright property of Marvel Comics©. I’m only borrowing them for a test spin in my realm….
Notes: ~ ~ are private thoughts.
Sequel: Yes. Set fairly one week behind ‘Stuck..’
Summary: Warren learns some valuable lessons and a deeper understanding of things as his obsessions get the better of him.
View from The Outside
By Bronze DragonBlade
He watches them all the time now. From a distance, he has seen the two men in various stages; different facets of their relationship. It has been over a week. A week in which Warren Worthington III has been edging closer and closer to the revelation of sight. His mind plagues him with thoughts of lean limbs, toned and pale, sliding over sheets; wrapping around a thick muscular body, and sounds. It’s the sounds that are driving him crazy. And still it hasn’t occurred to him to move to another room. He could, and very easily since he is not on the active team. He doesn’t have to even sleep in the mansion.
But there is something that keeps him exactly where he is; sleeping in the room between Bobby Drake’s and the room Logan and Remy share. The other day he was headed to the den for a bit of mindless channel surfing, just about to enter the room when sounds brought him up short. The sound of voices on the television, muffled growl of warning, “Knock it off Gumbo…”
“Hmmm, Remy like dat word…Gumbo…like da way it soun’ when ya growl like dat chér.”
And Warren has a mental flash back. Slight roaring inside his minds ear, whisky smooth voice sounding off orgasmic pleasure, then low and sultry and full of smugness, “Oui, makin gumbo jus de way ‘suppos’d te be.” He peeks in further and sees Gambit pressing closer to the stocky figure stretched out next to him on the floor. Both men are dressed in jean and t-shirts. Logan in his standard no-name, serviceable blue denim and Remy in snug ‘engineered’ Levi’s riding low on his hips ~hell, any closer and they’d be…~ the thought is cut off as long clever fingers tickle the length of broad back. Bodies press together, rubbing hard shafts trapped between them.
He watches the erotic movements turn into playful wrestling. The wily grace as Gambit gains the upper-hand briefly and winds up on top. Heaving chest as Logan’s heavier muscles turn the tables, this tussle ending with the Cajun squirming on his back, rich reddish hair fanned out around his head. Unreadable red-in-black eyes looking up at the man straddling his hips and holding his shoulders down. Soft growl as Wolverine leans down slowly and runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of delicate ear.
“K-okay! Non…non! Arête, Logan stop!” Childish, yet sultry giggles. “Merde dat tickles!”
“Love you Rem.”
“Amir ya back mon coeur.”
Warren retreats, thinking of other boyish bouts of enthusiasm with a sandy-haired young man. Intense light-brown eyes starring up at him before his shorts are freezing against his butt.
ÄÄÄÄ
Lingering under the soothing hot spray after an intense workout he is dragged from his directionless thoughts. He’d forgotten the three other men. Straggling behind because Bobby is trying to learn a move that only Gambit can teach him, his blue-eyed lover sitting on the sidelines watching proudly.
~I will not look. Will Not. I Won’t! okay, maybe just a quick peek~ and Warren slits his eyes open enough for a blurry image of steam swirling around three naked backs, side by side. ~They look so damn comfortable. Not fucking fair!~ he thinks as he makes a quick escape before one of them turns around and sees his rising erection.
ÄÄÄÄ
It has been a long and intense week of these encounters and Warren is exhausted. Coupled with these sex-plosive skirmishes and the late night/early morning wall-climbing, the blue-skinned mutant hardly gets enough sleep. If his dreams aren’t plaguing him with erotic visions, then his thoughts take over, intruding possible variations to go with the sounds. This morning had almost undone him.
He is getting used to the thick patois of Remy in the throes of passion, begging for more. ~Yesss Ange’…more. Ahh deeper, yess~ accompanied by the mental blur of sweaty muscles, strong pale limbs wrapped around his waist. Pink lips parted and glistening with moisture, burning eyes, light brown shifting into red and black. ~Wait…I don’t want to fuck them (?) {oh don’ ya warren me boy’o…iffin I recall me correct, and I quote “sexy, slinky, fuckable”} Oh shut up~ and his inner voice cackles insanely. Then the surprise.
“Ohhh, fuckin…h-h-harder Rem! Ahh yeah babe, right there…” ~Logan?!! Getting fucked (?)~ An eye-opener, so to speak. It kept him stealing secret glances at Wolverine the entire day.
“You got a problem Wings?” even tone hinting at nothing.
“Um, n-no Logan, why do you ask?” hesitant, can never be sure with the volatile Canadian. ~Gambit doesn’t seem to have any problems…but then again their fucking like bunnies~
“Just wondering is all.” Steady blue gaze, curious frown creasing handsome features. Enigmatic smile on wide Cajun lips, mischievous glint in the mesmerizing eyes and Warren is glad his blushes don’t show. ~Smug lil’ fucker~ he growls under the knowing gaze from across the room.
He needs some space. Decides he needs to get out of the mansion for a couple of hours and has an idea.
ÄÄÄÄ
“Oh I am soo glad it’s Friday, thought the weekend would never get here,” Bobby is saying on the other side of the door. Warren was on his way to the office where Bobby did all of his accounting tasks. Knowing he should leave and come back later when his friend isn’t busy crosses his mind as he stands quietly in the hall listening with his slightly enhanced hearing, ~one of the few positive things from my darker days as Arch Angle, that and the hawk-vision~ something that strikes him with the knowledge that everyone is prone to slipping into the darkness, if it has happened to him then why not a certain thief?
“…Well no, I hadn’t…..oh…” light-brown eyes stare down at the already packed overnight bag waiting by the side of his desk.
There are two feelings coursing through him now – first and foremost is how sad Bobby sounds right now, his voice is usually so disgustingly *happy-things* – and second was the intense wash of displeasure at who-ever was causing that pitiful sadness. ~*Protective much War?*~ and he has to be honest and say “Yes,” when it comes to Bobby. He had never really stopped and given any serious thought to his relationship ~what relationship? I am hardly ever around anymore…I used to always be there when we were younger…~ with the other man, has never given much thought to their closeness.
“…..No, no I can totally understand…” he can barely detect the concealed falseness of the up-beat tone, “…hey really, I understand. Believe me, I have run across a few of those unexpected family emergencies in my life time, you wouldn’t believe how it cuts into the late hours I love to put in at the office,” smooth voice ending with a convincing chuckle. ~Would fall to reason, if I didn’t know he was gay then I wouldn’t know he could lie his ass off…oh yeah he’s an *Accountant*. Forgot~ Warren is not sure he likes the implications of this situation.
~Bobby keeping secrets…at least from me! He lies better than a used-car dealer…or a politician…same difference *smirk*. There is also the risk of Johnny finding out that Bobby is a mutant, I don’t think he’s mentioned that~ his thoughts were spinning and he missed Bobby’s side of the ending conversation. Heard the string of profanity from astoundingly boyish looking lips ~wonder what it would feel like to kiss him?~ and Warren smacks himself upside the head in disbelief for even thinking it, ~Oh Shit….here we go again…I can-Not do this!~ is turning from the door when the soft sound of sobs makes him stop. He opens the door.
Bobby is slumped behind the desk, his forehead pressed against the cool mahogany surface, hand on the cradled receiver. Shoulders twitching slightly with his gruff breathing. He has been looking forward to this weekend, seeing his friend and confidant. Has wanted to talk about this *thing* with Warren. Bobby is afraid that his friend has finally figured out his secret, is positive that has to be it otherwise Warren wouldn’t be suddenly avoiding him. It disturbs him that the older man will not look him in the eye since the weirded-out Twinkie-run. Warren had seemed more aware and disturbed by the male attention directed at Bobby, lost in his own little world of golden sponge cake that left a shiny gloss on his pink lips from all the oil – hadn’t been able to wait until the checkout just opened a box and peeled off the wrapper and popped it in his mouth ~hmmmTwinkies…oh so Homer *giggle*~ winked at Warren and continued to fill the cart. He was afraid he was about to loose a good friend and wanted to talk to Warren about his life, and wanted Johnny’s input and experienced perspective before he screwed things up. ~John’s just an *orgasm-buddy*…fun but still~
He is turning these things over in his head as he looks up at the man who has been avoiding him all week. “What.”
Warren is slightly taken back by the sharpness of the tone, “I w-was coming to see if you wanted to go out for a bite to eat….” Trailing off as he takes in the puffy appearance. Automatic reaction of long-time friends and he is there kneeling beside the chair and Bobby is falling into his lap, burying his face against the broad chest, strong arms offering comfort and protection, ~is that all I’m offering~ he wonders as he tilts the shaggy head back and looks deep into the light-brown eyes. “Anything you want to tell me about,” soft whisper inches from pink lips. Ragged inhale, flicker of something flaring deep in the eyes looking up, the lips part…
“Uh...n-no, not really. Could you…just hold me for a while?”
He is thankful he’d waited a second longer, if Bobby hadn’t spoke; Instead, Warren just wraps his arms around the smaller man and holds him, eyes closed breathing in the fresh clean scent.
ÄÄÄÄ
Flashback: One Week ago
Warren had been in the kitchen lingering over breakfast, browsing the Wall Street Journal and sipping at lukewarm coffee. His blue eyes peeked over the edge of the paper at the figure walking through the doorway. ~What are you hiding under there~ Quick scan up and down, same old faded blue grandpa pajama bottoms, same double-XL Spiderman tee, spiky blonde-brown morning hair on top of sleepy brown eyes ~bedroom eyes~ he thinks glancing at the yawning bubblegum pink mouth. ~Nope, still looks the same~ he thinks its silly that he would be expecting to see a mark or something, a physical manifestation of ‘the change’. ~I honestly don’t know what I was expecting to see, bruises, hickeys a sign maybe~ he chides himself knowing that the only change is in how he himself sees things a bit more clearly now. Things he’s overlooked, subtle, but noticeable none the less.
Warren thinks he now has better insight into why Bobby Drake is always rushing off to Manhattan on Friday’s at the first opportunity he gets.
It is late Sunday morning and Warren is musing on the fact that Bobby is around this weekend, wearing that satisfied look of bemusement normally reserved for Monday mornings. ~Who the fuck is Johnny~ Warren puzzles at the fact that Bobby never has time for late-night flights with him anymore and doesn’t want to examine that too closely.
He watches the effervescent movements of the young man, someone he continues to realize he doesn’t really know and wonders how he can call himself a friend. There is a light spring in the boyish steps that carry the young man across the kitchen toward the cabinets above the counter. Bobby is humming something light and airy as he assembles the makings of a late morning breakfast. Nice sized cereal bowl, there are spider web splats that glow in the dark on the outside. He peeks at the blue masked face inside and smiles in greeting before setting the bowl down and reaching for a mug.
~Hell, I’m impressed…you would never even guess by looking. Not like he hasn’t had practice though~ The X-man known as Angel is intrigued by his teammate’s ability to act so casually normal, as if he hadn’t been getting his brains fucked out just a couple of hours ago. Bobby is moving around with suppressed energy, a banana from the fruit basket, milk from the fridge, a spoon from the drawer tinkling nicely in the bowl. His tousled head tilted to the side, smile on his face as the sound fades. Now he’s peering into the pantry wondering out loud, “Hmmm now what shall it be this morning…Trix…nu-ungh, Apple-Jacks maybe? Nooooope.” He is shaking his head in slight mocking disapproval at each discarded choice.
“Choose one already Ice-cube….” Warren had growled at him and was satisfied by the surprised little jump when the other man realized he was there in the room.
The startled frown doesn’t last long as Bobby grins and goes back to his annoying goofiness hamming it up now that he has an audience. “Well now lets see…how about some Cap’n’Crunch hmmmm? That sounds enticing, breakfast with Cap. Who needs that damn Quick Bunny when you can have all of those nice little pink balls floating around making pink milk? Oh-No, I know! Sugar Smacks, scads and scads of sugar, hmmm dig ‘em? Goodie.” He cast a demented toothy grin at the blonde man frowning at him. “Ohhh I’d rather bee a Hon-ey Cooomb Kiddd,” and then he is bursting into giggles as he grabs the large yellow box and heads back toward his bowl. Fills it to the rim and then adds milk. Heaps a couple of teaspoons of sugar into the mug before a healthy measure of milk topped of with coffee.
Bobby settles at the table across from the winged, blue mutant and digs in, oblivious to the intense scrutiny. Sitting there crunching thoughtfully, his eyes dart around the room and back to the box. Swallow, spoonful, chewing, glance at the box. After several spoonfuls Warren went back to his paper. He is trying to concentrate on the black squiggles, swimming into vivid images of bobby doing other things that made those slurping sounds.
“I wonder if I should make a Twinkie run later,” and blue eyes are staring over the paper blankly at the thought of pink lips eating golden Twinkies…filled with white sugary crème and wonders if Bobby would taste like that.
‘Um...I-I’ll drive you…” blue eyes are tracking the bead of milk running down the boys chin.
Bobby’s regard is quizzical, “Cool,’ then he Bobby goes back to his feast after reaching out to finally snag the box and up-end it over the bowl.
Blonde head turns toward the sounds of approach, blinks as the morning light catches and sparks amidst fox-brown and rusty-red as Remy swaggers into the room. Gambit’s swagger has always irritated Warren, but now he finds himself wondering ~just how ‘cocky’ hmmm Gambit~ he’s noticed a lot about the elusive thief. Like the solidity in the younger man’s presence. Gambit moves among them with a lot more ease. There is a lot more confidence ~no it was always there, we just never saw it~ and he’s slightly impressed and more than a bit curious. He’s thinking back again to the early morning hours, the sounds he heard on the other side of the wall and blushes at the mental image he’s conjured up. Suddenly the room is a bit too crowded with the other two in it, the air is a bit harder to get into the lungs and it’s starting to get warm. Warren needs to get out and mumbles toward Bobby about running over Twinkies before he vanishes into the coolness beyond the screen door.
“Quelle de homme’s problem, heh?” Remy drawls, voice like Southern Comfort .
“Beats me,” is the response from around a spoonful of sugary, honeycomb shaped oats.
ÄÄÄÄ
Later: Post Twinkie Run
“Nooo, not like that. Don’t snap, now try it again.”
“Dis silly chér Remy look like a fool doin dis.”
~Warren ol boy, you are truly developing some nasty habits~ but the blue-skinned mutant feels no shame as he slinks closer to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place on the other side of the couch.
“Remy, *Trust*. I do know where of I speak.”
“Oh merde…pour quoi moi... Bobby dis is just dumb.”
Warren can imagine the pout on the slightly older brown-haired young man and the poker-face on the Cajun. He smiles and shakes his head.
“Look, if you want to get even, then this is the perfect way. I can’t believe they didn’t *learn* you this in Mumbo-jumbo 101…” brown head shakes with disparaging tone, “…and you went to school in Paris…?”
“Hey homme, what’s dat ‘posed ta mean?” thickening accent. “dey *learned* Remy good, don worry bout dat, heh….mais, dey nev’ cove’d twinks…” two sets of raised eyebrows, sandy-brown and golden-blonde, “…what now?!”
Two heads shaking, “Nothing Rem…nothing at all,” and Bobby has another small smile on his handsomely fresh face. He and Remy are sitting in the den where he is trying to drill the fine points of Twinkie-seduction into the Cajun thief.
“kay…listen. No listen…okay good. Now, it has been medically proven – both physiologically and psychologically that there is something intrinsically *homo-erotic* in the art or act of eating food.”
“Um…icy…say dat in English homme,” rusty snicker at the dark look.
“Alright, fine. If you eat certain food items in certain ways it can have a very extreme sexual connotation…in other words, eat the damn Twinkie the way I learn ya and you can sit back and watch wolvie’s control crumble into dust before you’re very eyes. The man will throw a rod before you get it half way in. Got it?”
“Well hell, why y’ just didn’ say dat da first time…”
“Good. Again. Better. Good, hmmm very nice I might steal that.” Light snickers. “Okay now you can bite it, but no teeth.”
“hmph?”
Warren has to school himself; holds in the laugh and stops fingering his crotch.
“I mean don’t let you’re teeth show, keep you lips wrapped around that Twinkie. Yes now you’re getting the groove…oh that’s really good. Okay now the tongue.”
ÄÄÄÄ
Saturday night finds Warren alone in the mansion. Bobby has slipped off into Manhattan, ~grrrrr~ the women are all off on another silly retreat. The new little bread-and-breakfast on the outskirts of the city is growing richer since adding the spa. Scott is off visiting his brother, he isn’t sure where the others are but remembers the ‘love-birds’ went to Harry’s for pool and drinks.
Restless in the late hour he pulls on white sweats and a pair of sneakers and heads for the danger room. He’s surprised to find the room already in use since he thinks he’s the only one home. Warren heads up to the control room where he can see who’s running a session. He is stuck stupid at the sight in the room below. The lights in the control room are dim and the glass has been polarized down making him another inky shadow among many.
~Oh I don’t fuckin believe this~ Moving in a daze Warren drops into the nearest chair and just stares down thinking he must be dreaming. The irritated voice across the speaker startles him as he leans forward and nudges the volume slider slightly.
“Not dis ‘gain…” Remy complains
“Quit yer whinin brat, it’s yer own fault.” Firm nod as Logan steps back, “my punishment, my choice…” Logan says as he moves out of sight. “I warned ya bout those damn Twinkies at lunch but did ya listen…noooo. Ya just had ta go an pull one out at Harry’s.”
~Dat’s da last time I listen ta Bobby…den ‘gain…de boy knows what he’s talkin bout’~ The Cajun thief can’t help but smirk at the memory of twirling his tongue in the crème filling of said Twinkie. Even he had gotten caught up in the eroticism of what he was doing, dipping the tip of his pink tongue in the white fluffy substance and scooping a small portion back into his mouth, slowly. He almost hadn’t been quick enough to avoid getting brained when Logan broke, sending pool balls flying off the table and through the air in various directions.
ÄÄÄÄ
There is a shrouded figure in the room below, standing in the center of a rustic hall. A performance area defined by a line of lamps on both sides. Tables full of rowdy patrons waiting for the show to begin. A few feet away is a large circular leather couch. In the center lounges a strangely clad Logan. He is watching the figure.
Soft guitar strains float through the air, hush falling over the crowd. The gray hood flicks back to reveal a sleek fall of burgundy silk. Blue eyes watch the shroud slide to the floor exposing oiled, hard muscles, glistening body naked except for the loin cloth. Black leather on pale skin engulfing his vision, eyes riveted on the magnificent body.
The slap of bare feet, gasps and applause as Remy dives through the air in a series of piked somersaults. Smooth transition from straddle press to a clean handstand, silky hair sweeping the floor, skin like burnished gold in the lamplight. Fluid grace, another pass, double-twisting back somersaults. Feline movement, prowling, stalking up the small steps toward the figure on the dais.
He is enthralled as he watches Logan stroke his hands lovingly down the sweaty back, “Beautiful,” he breathes in awe. The flame-dark head is leaning down, lips meet and Logan is sliding his hand over sleek muscle, pulling Remy down and gently grinding their hips together. Long fingers gliding across hairy chest exposed by the now open Kimono, swirl of silk and the robe flutters to the floor. The audience has vanished, all except for Warren where he is watching from the darkness of the control booth.
The scene below is now softly lit by only the glow of lamps around the large black cushion glistening softly under fair limbs.
Warren strains his ears to catch the barely audible words floating in the room below. He watches them kiss then sees Logan’s lips moving and knows the man is whispering something.
Logan is whispering in Remy’s ear now, telling him how beautiful he looks with his skin all oiled and glistening. How the sight of him in the leather loincloth is making Logan ache with the need to pound into him so hard they force the stuffing from the cushion. How he is going to fuck Remy until he can’t walk the next day. His voice is harsh and unyielding. Snarling and guttural and the lean figure shivers. Basks in the rawness of the emotional tidal wave trying to drag him under, he can hear the foundation of love and tender caring under the harsh tones that not many other’s do. They don’t listen, and the tone is not for them. It is his alone, and Remy is basking in it as he feels Logan caressing his ass, relieving him of the tight binding leather. Rough hands sliding over his sensitive skin as he is explored.
Logan is easing him onto his stomach and Remy grinds his oozing cock into the soft leather, sliding on the film of precum. He is swimming in heat as hands pull his checks apart, the wet roughness against his tightness.
Logan has lost himself in the voodoo that is Remy, Cajun heat from the heart of the bayou. ~How. I just don’t get it sometimes. Do I really deserve to be this damn lucky~ He wonders again at the love he has for this man and that his love is returned measure for measure and then he is inhaling the deeper spicy musk. Pressing his lips to the pink pucker in imitation of a chaste kiss. His smile is slightly feral, he likes the mewling sounds rising from above. His next kiss is not so chaste.
ÄÄÄÄ
Warren is gently clenching and unclenching the grip he has on his aching erection. His breath is coming in short gasp as he is allowed to witness the source of that particular sound, the little hitch Remy makes. Emotions swirl deep inside as his clenching turns to stroking. He is stroking himself in time to the leisurely licks the wild haired, stocky man is applying. He can’t stop himself as trembling fingers tug at the drawstring of his sweats. He looks down at his tented groin to see the spreading wet spot before slipping the white cotton/jersey blend over his hips just enough to free his erection and experience the feel of the chair’s leather against his ass. Soft moans float through the room, wafting through the speaker and for a moment Warren just closes his eyes. His head tips back as he imagines what it must taste like, feel like. A steady stream of un-intelligible babble makes him open his eyes and moan out loud.
Logan reaches down to the floor beside the round leather cushion that seems to float among stars. He can feel the call of Remy’s flesh, hot and spicy-sweet making his own skin tingle. The shiver under the lingering caress of his tongue before he rolls his lover onto his back, Logan kneels between the spread legs and drinks in the beauty as he applies oil to his cupped palm. Red embers watches as he moves his cupped hand and lets the oil dribble along the length of his pulsing cock bobbing freely between his meaty thighs. There is a pearl of clear fluid sliding from the slit and he watches intently as he presses his dark cock against the pale flesh dotting it with the bead of pre-cum. Slick fingers are wrapped around his sleek hard length, fondling his cock, and Remy moans another wave of lust at the teasing strokes making him lightheaded.
The maddening stroke of thick fingers filling him, making him squirm and moan Remy tosses his head from side to side, blue eyes are entranced by the russet sweep glinting on darkness in the flicker of light. Warren is breathing raggedly now as the finger is withdrawn and more oil applied, two fingers and both men are squirming in delirium against sweaty leather. Warren reaches down and milks himself until his fingers are slippery, struggles briefly with the binding sweats until they are pooled around his ankles. Glazed blue eyes unable to look away from the sight of Logan’s slippery fingers in the tight ring, easing past and stroking gently downward. Remy arching his back like a cat, pressing himself on the fingers, sweaty hair tossing.
“Please Lo-gan,” he pants, “fuck me now fuck me fuck me nooow,” whining in need, ass clenching and unclenching as Logan finally stopped torturing him and positioned his cockhead against the twitching opening. “Je taime mon coeur amour bien.” Logan pushed his hips forward. His purpled head slipped into the waiting pucker with only the slightest resistance. Remy tossed his head back, face ecstatic as Logan leaned into him. “Bien...you feel soo bien inside me chér,” Remy crooned softly, “my lil’ wolfen.”
The hiss streaked through Warren, revealing another sound source as Logan made a slow withdrawal, no faster than his deft penetration had been. Remy could feel every inch as Logan set up a slow in-out movement, strong face suffused with lust and desire. Slight yellow rings around his normally blue eyes as their pleasure spiraled. They rocked against each other, sizzling in the silky glide of flesh on flesh and the pale cock drooling and twitching between their bellies. Sliding in the pool of precum under the dusky head. Remy moaned softly, Logan growled as he felt the slippery grasp of clenching ass-ring stroking the length of his heated cock, the bunching of strong muscles in his buttocks and back as he stroked deeper simmering in the intense velvet sheath.
Remy was lifting his hips in time to Logan’s thrusts. The welter of sensations dashing him under and spinning him up. He shifted and squirmed, squeezing Logan’s thick cock from different angles, feeding their mutual pleasure with his charm. Logan groaning in appreciation as Remy milked him. Skin growing more sensitive with each stroke, second of contact, soaring as he trembled and followed the pull upward. Higher and higher, muffling their screams with locked lips. Tongues wrestling, a series fo short jabs and the first jet of hot cum flooding into Remy’s clenching ass. Remy moaning as the shock of Logan’s orgasm triggers his own shattering climax, his dick jerking strongly and a fountain of jism gushing between their hard bellies. Again and again, in perfect synchronization until cocks emptied the last dribble. Logan slumping against him after a gentle disentanglement. Gentle cleaning with the silk robe before they slip out.
ÄÄÄÄ
Sweat trickles down from the blue temples as the hand strokes in a frenzied pace. He is on the verge of eruption when he feels a slight tingle. His gaze is torn away from the flexing ass and bouncing feet over shoulder to the red-in-black gaze that seems to be staring directly into him. He freezes at the hot lick of sensation before those eyes close in bliss. Red coals winking out. He slumps into the leather seat, sweaty, exhausted and spent. Unable to think as his chest heaves and he surveys the lovers below. He sits glued to the chair. Shocked by what he has seen, awed at the raw passion and utter release of the two men. He is slightly envious of their love, knows he has never experienced anything like it. He is a bit sad that it may never happen. He has lost something vital in his life with his indifference and blindness. Bobby Drake. He knows that the other man will always be his friend, but that is all they will ever be. Bobby is happy with the person in his life and Warren respects that. ~Once again I find myself all alone and stuck in the middle~ He has to give a small ironic smile, as he quickly cleans up and slips out before he’s seen. He ponders his life of ‘money and prestige’ and how they can buy a lot of things in real life but in this small, untarnished sphere of existence he will always fall short. Warren Worthington III will never have enough for more than a view from the outside.
End Block