Memories

Rating: NC-17

Original Date of Completion: June 2003

Pairing: John Allerdyce(Pyro)/Bobby Drake(Iceman)

Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did. This is fiction, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. So yeah, you can't sue me.

Notes: This fic is set after the events occurring in the movie X2, most specifically when Pyro walks away from the X-Men and joins the Brotherhood, then is told mostly through flashbacks of events occurring before the movie. ~ ~ ~ indicates a flashback. You do not need to have seen the X-Men movies to read this, everything you really need to know is explained in the fic, or in these notes. If you have no knowledge whatsoever of the X-Men, or have no idea who characters are, or what they can do, you can check out this site, and you should be able to find out whatever you need to know. If not, don't hesistate to drop me a line and I'll try to answer any questions you have.

****************

I can hear you smilin' on the phone,
Bet you thought that I'd be cryin'
Go on and tell yourself I've done you wrong,
But we both know you'll be lyin'.
You don't have to have a reason,
If your heart is set on leavin'.

(But)You'll remember on some rainy day,
A little simple word or thought,
Or a birthday card I bought.
Just surrender, cause you can't get away,
You never can be free
From a memory like I'm gonna be.

That greener grass you think you see,
Is just a high heeled illusion.
Better count the cost of being free,
Is it worth all that you're losing.
It may be over, but it's not ending,
'Cause there's one thing you're forgetting.

You'll remember on some rainy day,
Little things we used to do,
Like that night in Baton Rouge
Just surrender, cause you can't get away,
You never can be free
From a memory like I'm gonna be.

Tanya Tucker "A Memory Like I'm Gonna Be"
Used Without Permission

A cold tear slips down my cheek as the helicopter lifts from the ground. Cold. Everything about me seems cold right now. My fingers, my toes, my cheeks, my lips...my heart. Maybe it's all from laying in the snow earlier. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm in fucking...Where the fuck am I anyway? I have no fucking clue, all I know is it's cold. Or maybe that's just my body making up for the distinct loss of cold I've been suffering from the last couple days. Any which way you slice it, I'm chilled to the core. And normally I'd like that feeling, but right now...right now I'm ready to cover myself in flames so it will go away. Being cold makes me think of him. And I really don't want to think of him; thinking of him will produce a lot more than one cold tear. Icy fucking waterfall is all that would come from that, and something tells me that wouldn't impress the old guy and the blue chick too much. Though I don't think I really care right now.

I left. I really did it this time. I've said so many times in the past that I was going to do it; walk away, leave Bobby and all of Mutant High behind. I always felt like they were holding me back, like they didn't want to harness the full potential of my powers, because they were afraid I'd go nuts and catch the mansion on fire. In all honesty, I just might've done that. Back then, I felt like that was the only way I could get away. I knew that there would always be something (read: someone) keeping me there. The only way I could ever get away would be to burn all the bridges, literally and figuratively. If I wanted to get away from Mutant High, and from the X-Men, I had to get away from Bobby. I knew that, I understood it, I accepted it. I just didn't want to do it.

I love the frigid asshole, I can't deny that. I love the way he smiles, I love the way he spends a decade doing his hair, I love the way he sounds when he wakes up in the morning. I love the way he always wants to talk before bed. I love the way he kisses me. I love the way it feels to be inside him, and the way it feels to wrap my lips around him and suck until he screams. In fact, there is only one thing I DON'T love about him. The way he hates himself. But still, that was never enough to make me want to leave. It was like a 90 billion to 1 ratio of things I loved to things I didn't. The whole self hatred thing was just a minor annoyance, that I hoped to cure him of in time. That was a big reason why I stayed so long. I wanted to help him accept what he was, both mutant and the dreaded G word. I was doing an all right job at that too, until SHE showed up. Then he decided "Ooh, let's love the girl I can't even touch! Yay being straight!" And then...well...It turns out I'd never have to burn the bridges. Bobby took it upon himself to freeze the bridges for me, then stab them to death with an ice pick, Basic Instinct style.

Bastard.

~ ~ ~

Nervously, I play with my lighter; flipping it open, closed, open, closed, so much so I mesmerize myself with the motions. That's a good thing though, pull me away from the real world, and this entirely too tense moment. Bobby was here waiting for me after class, which in and of itself isn't a big deal, he does live here after all. It was what he said after I plopped down onto the bed next to him that was a big deal.

"John, we need to talk,"

You know, I haven't had too much experience in the relationship field. Okay, so I've had no experience outside of Bobby. But I'm smart enough to know that when your significant other tells you "we need to talk" it's never about anything good. I have a sick feeling in my stomach what this is all about, I just don't want to admit it. There's nothing else it really could be about, Bobby's a fairly predictable guy. Random, unimportant stuff is said in the heat of battle (i.e. in the middle of a wrestling match, he says "By the way, I borrowed your brown sweater.") Stupid, insignificant things are said in the heat of the moment (i.e. in the middle of sex, he says "We're out of shampoo, and the grape lube.") And important stuff is said in the still of the night, or in a special meeting (i.e. when he told me that I'd had sex with his doppleganger, and could easily have been crawling with disease.) So I knew the second he spoke the words, this was not going to be a pleasant conversation for me.

My mind screamed at me and told me what he was going to say, then went immediately into denial mode. It was still in denial mode, it just added in nervous mode too, once Bobby moved onto the opposite bed, and began to stare at me in silence. That led to the lighter flipping, which was strangely soothing.

"Johnny," Bobby's voice is soft as he clamps his hand around mine, stopping the movement of my lighter.

His hands are freezing, and for a second I'm half tempted to turn the lighter on just so he'll let go. After all this time, I can't ever get completely used to the cold. It's only natural though, I guess, I am fire after all. Sometimes the cold is good, soothing, comforting. But right now, it's just cold, icy, like stone; all things I hate thinking of Bobby as. Yeah, he's Iceman, but he's never cold. He's chilly, granted, but he's always warm, hot Bobby. Right now though, looking into his incredibly fucking blue eyes, feeling his hand over mine, he's icy, cold Iceman. I'm beginning to like this less and less as the seconds go by.

"What's the deal, Bobby?" I ask, trying to hide my nervousness, jerking my hand away.

I stop myself as I'm about to flip my lighter, and smile weakly at him. He smiles softly in return, his eyes twinkling for a brief moment, then sits down again on the bed opposite me. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, then clasps his hands together. He looks more serious than I've ever seen him; I find myself swallowing back a nervous lump in my throat. I think he notices, because I see him fidget, and glance away from me before he starts speaking.

"Johnny," He starts, stopping and breathing a deep sigh. "I know you know about me and Rogue,"

I nod slowly, and saying "fuck you" to hiding my nervousness, resume flipping my lighter. He sighs, and runs a hand slowly through his hair, leaving his eyes on the floor. This is about as tense a moment as we've ever had, and I don't like it. There's not a whole lot I can do though, he's the one that said "we need to talk." When someone says that to you, it usually leaves you with just the option to sit there and look pretty. Thankfully, I've perfected that in Storm's class over the years.

Crawling up the bed, I come to a stop against the headboard, relaxing back against it. If he's going to just sit there and stare at the floor, I'm going to at least get comfortable while I wait.

"Can you stop flicking that, please?" He mumbles, lifting his eyes up to look at me. "I'm having a hard enough problem trying to think of how to say this without that click interrupting,"

I stare at him, our eyes locking, and flip the lighter back open. His eyes travel to the lighter as I flick it on, bringing to life a tiny flame. I pull it into my free hand, flipping the lighter shut, then dropping it into my shirt pocket. He continues to stare at the flame, and in my head I snicker, knowing the thought that is going through his mind. He wants to freeze it, that's his first reaction any time I hold a flame like this. I can see his fingers twitching with desire, so slowly I increase the size of it, watching his eyes through the blazing orange. They glow, a dusky mix of blue and orange, and I decide I would be more than content to just sit here and stare at him forever. But I realize quickly that's not possible, as he shakes his head, and turns his stare away from me.

"I'm really not sure how to say this," His voice is almost a whisper; I can barely hear it over the rumble of the flame floating above my hand.

"So just say it," I reply softly, extending the flame slowly, like a snake, in front of me, then pulling it back at an equal pace.

Along with the flame came Bobby's eyes, and they locked on me as he began to speak. "I've decided that...."

~ ~ ~

No, not thinking about that right now.

I've been over it a few billion times already, and cried every one. That's all fine and good when I'm by myself somewhere. But right now, I'm in a helicopter with a couple of people who think I'm a badass, so just no, not crying right now. Thinking about that some more doesn't accomplish anything anyway. I just think the same things, and get the same feelings every time. It's a simple routine, no changes ever except for the date and time. I think that might make the whole thing all that more depressing. I already know what I'm going to think about every moment before it even passes. It's like a rut for my memories. I hate ruts, but I really don't know if I can change this. My feelings about it all are pretty much set.

I don't know though, maybe I shouldn't blame him. He's just doing what any guy in his position would. See pretty girl, want pretty girl, pretty girl want you, happily ever after. Bobby is just doing what he’s always wanted to do, be normal. Well, as normal as he can be considering he's a walking popsicle and his girlfriend is the Amazing Life-Suck Girl. That's what he's always wanted, I should be happy for him. And at least it's Rogue, and not some idiotic little twit like Kitty, or God forbid, Jubilee. I'm sure most guys, if given the choice, would take the girl they could touch, so kudos to Bobby for picking Old Grey. I can't say I'd do the same thing.

Probably because I accept who I am, and wouldn't pick a girl at all. I'm GAY dammit, I like dick. So fuck not blaming him, or being happy for him. I blame, I'm pissed, and fucking heartbroken. I'm a guy in his position, and I wouldn't do what he did. I wouldn't pick Rogue, or Kitty, or for fuck's sake Storm if she threw herself at me wearing that leopard print bikini she wears when her, Mr. Summers, and Dr. Grey get together. None of that interests me, and not just because I'm gay. Piotr could throw himself at my feet, or Mr. Summers could ride shirtless on his motorcycle again to get the girls to fawn over him, and I wouldn't go after either of them. Because there has only ever been one person in my life that I have ever REALLY wanted. And that's Bobby...

~ ~ ~

The lamp turns on as I step into the room. Glancing toward the beds, I see Bobby sitting on mine, as I fully expected. I knew he was going to wait up for me, even if he had nothing to worry about. I had no interest in Jubilee in that way, or any other way for that matter. But she offered to pay for the movie, and being the cheapskate I am, I went for it. That didn't set too well with the rampant insecurities of my Frosty Friend here. Bobby had a rather large problem believing in himself, that he's worth something, that someone could actually want him. I've never been able to understand that, he's fucking beautiful, he's smart, he's funny, everybody loves him. But he's so insecure, he's constantly afraid that the world is going to turn its back on him, and leave him all alone. I've assured him I don't know how many times that I'll never do that, but still he worries. I don't know what I can do to convince him how much I love him. He's it for me, there is never going to be anyone else...

"Bobby," I speak softly, sitting next to him on the bed. I slip my hand over his, entwining our fingers, and squeezing gently. "You didn't have to wait up, you've got that test tomorrow,"

He smiles weakly, nervously dropping his gaze to the floor. "I just wanted to make sure you got home okay,"

The natural smartass in me takes over before I have the chance to censor my reply, and I smirk. "Afraid Jubes was gonna put the moves me, woo me with some fireworks? You know I love me some big gobs of energy..."

He blushes furiously, turning his head away from me. "No," He mumbles, shaking his head. "I just..." He trails off.

"Hey," I murmur, tucking my finger beneath his chin and pulling his gaze back to me. "I've told you a billion times," I kiss him softly. "You've got nothing to worry about, you're it for me,"

"I know," He whispers in reply, biting nervously at his bottom lip. "I just..."

"Just what," I whisper, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand.

"Don't want to lose you,"

I kiss him softly, pressing my forehead against his and staring into his eyes. "You won't. Ever. I love YOU, Robert Drake. No one else. YOU,"

I bring his hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, then lock my eyes on his. He blinks a few times, vanquishing some tears before they have a chance to slip from his eyes. Normally when I said things like that, he'd blush and look away. But right now, he made no efforts to even drop his eyes from mine, which is good because I could stare into those eyes for eternity and love every minute of it. They were just that incredible; so damned blue it was like staring into the heart of a glacier, to be cliche. And to be even more cliche, looking into his eyes in this particular moment was just like looking into his heart. And doing that, I saw something I'd been longing to see for quite some time. Understanding. He finally understood that I meant what I said; he finally knew how much I loved him, and how nothing could ever make me leave him. At least, that's what I'm figuring that look in his eyes is. I guess it could be any number of things. But I like to think I know Bobby's eyes pretty well by now, and...

His lips on mine answer my question, and I find myself smiling as I pull away. A bright smile graces his lips as well, the familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. He inches closer to me on the bed, resting his hand on my knee and squeezing gently. I grin as his hand begins to crawl slowly up my leg, lightly massaging my thigh. He grins sheepishly, leaning in and pressing his lips again to mine. The kiss takes off quickly, lips clashing heatedly, our tongues writhing eagerly together. A small moan escapes my lips as his hand reaches my groin, squeezing gently. He giggles softly, pushing me back on the bed roughly. Turning on the bed, he slips a leg over my waist, then pushes himself to a straddling position. He leans down and steals a quick kiss, slipping his hands beneath my shirt. As his fingers brush across my stomach, I grab his wrists, halting his progress, and staring up at him.

"Do you get it now, Bobby? Do you understand the things I say?"

He smiles, leaning down and kissing me softly. "I get it," He whispers against my ear. "I get it all."

I moan softly, lifting slightly off the bed so he can remove my shirt. He does so with ease, yanking it quickly over my head, and tossing it to the bed behind him. My chest now bare, he runs his hands gently across it, springing goosebumps to my skin. My eyes flutter shut as he traps a nipple between his fingers, massaging it softly as his other hand grazes down my ribs, stopping at the waistband of my jeans...

~ ~ ~

I probably shouldn't think about that either. There's no place to have alone time on this helicopter. Not that I would, if there were, I'm not that kinky. Okay, so there was that one time in Piotr's closet, but really that was all Bobby's fault, and...

And thinking about that is no different than thinking about the other thing. Both stories amount to the same thing, me getting off inside Bobby; be it inside him, or in his mouth. The only difference was the second one involves Piotr, whether he knew it or not. He probably wouldn't be too thrilled if he did know; he'd probably get all big scary Russian on us. Not that that would be the first time that had happened, Bobby and I got a great joy out of messing with him. He was a good sport about it though, only once were either of us body slammed. Ah, that was a fun time. I'm going to miss that guy, he was a good friend. A better friend than Bobby turned out to be.

Okay, so that could never be true, no matter how much I might want it to be. Bobby was the best friend I ever had, probably ever will have. Even with what happened between us, he was still the best friend I've ever had. He was the first REAL friend I ever had. When I first got to Mutant High, Dr. Grey chose Bobby to show me around, so, as Bobby eloquently put it, she could "Shine Cyclops’ glasses," Read into that what you'd like.

We hit it off pretty fast, which led to many giggles, and lame ass jokes about Fire and Ice finally finding each other. Neither of us will admit it, but we kind of liked having our own name like that. It was just sort of distinguishing, I guess. Actually, it was more than that. It sort us reminded who we were, the polar antithesis of each other. In an odd sort of way, we completed each other, both of us felt it. He was the calming influence that I needed, I was the bit of bad boy he always craved. When I got reckless with my power, he would be there to extinguish me, so to speak. When his power would get out of control, and he'd be buried underneath five blankets, covered head to toe in flannel, and STILL be shivering, I'd be there to warm him up. So many nights, I would crawl into bed with him, wrap my arms around him, and create a torch at every bed post to warm him up. That's how things ever started between us...

~ ~ ~

I glance at the clock on the nightstand, reading 4:13 in glowing red. That means we've been in bed for three hours, and Bobby has shivered continuously the whole time. Poor guy, I really feel for him. Most of the rest of us get to sleep half naked, because the Professor keeps this place so damned hot. But poor Bobby, he got to sleep in flannel pajamas, buried under about six different types of blankets. I didn't even know they made six different types of blankets until I met him. What's sad about that, is they still didn't help him. I asked him once if they did anything to help, and he said no, it felt like never-ending hypothermia when things got out of his control like that. I felt so bad for him that night, I offered up my powers to make him warm. I crawled into bed with him, beneath the six blankets, and lit a couple of flames behind us. I don't know if it really worked or not, but he didn't shiver again for the rest of the night, even as the flames died when I fell asleep.

Come to think of it, he never shivered again the other 14 times I did that. Yet, he hasn't even asked me to help him out tonight, when his shivering went in excess of 3 hours. I swear, sometimes I wonder just how smart he really is. Though I guess I probably should wonder if maybe he just doesn't want me cuddling him, or whatever. Only one way to find out, I guess.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I grabbed my lighter, flipping it open quickly. With one flick there's fire, and I grab it, holding it in my hand as I wriggle free from my blanket. Bobby remains hidden beneath his blankets, still visibly shivering. I'm more than tempted to crawl underneath the blankets with him, if only because I like holding him. But, like I said, this was finding out if he liked cuddling or not. If he accepted the fire without me, then the answer was obviously no. But if he wanted me with it, woo-hoo, I get to cuddle me an icicle. That's a good thing, I assure you. And yes, I did say woo-hoo. It's 4 AM, sue me if my vocabulary isn't all complex and stuff. The only reason I'm even awake is because of the chattering refrigerator in the bed next to me. Speaking of which....

Turning onto my side, I send the flame slowly toward his bed, hovering it above him. This was one draw back of not laying with him when I did this, I had to lay all uncomfortably. And it took more concentration this way, so as I didn't slip up and catch his blankets on fire, or something. Not like he'd feel it before I had the chance to put it out anyway. That was one big advantage about the whole fire manipulator thing, nothing could burn down in my presence unless I wanted it to. And I'd never want Bobby to burn. But he might actually warm up that way, so maybe I'd just go get some water and put him out the old-fashioned way if I caught his blankets on fire. I did always wonder what would happen if he got wet in one of these times anyway. Like, would he turn into a (real) giant popsicle, or would he just get all wet and soggy, like a cute little puppy? I'd like to imagine choice B, I hate picturing him all freezing cold. Being cold sucks, except of course when it's him making me that way. But that must still suck for him. My poor poor popsicle.

"Johnny," I hear him mumble, and see the blanket mountain begin to rumble. A head peeks out from beneath the covers, and in the firelight I see two groggy, half-lidded eyes focus on me. I smile, lifting the fire a little bit higher.

"Is it working?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. "It doesn't work without you,"

I grin, pulling the fire back to me as I sit up on the bed. There's my answer, and it's the one I hoped for. He smiles at me as I stand up, squelching the fire until just a tiny flame remained in the palm of my hand. I cradle it as I walk around his bed, pulling back the covers with my free hand. He turns to face me, trying visibly to suppress his shivers. I sigh, brushing my hand softly down his arm as I crawl into bed, laying down onto my back. I lift the flame above us, separating it to the bed posts per usual as Bobby cuddles up against my chest.

I hiss as his hand connects with my chest, his fingers so cold I can feel them through the fabric of my shirt. He smiles weakly up at me, softly whispering "I'm sorry." I shake my head, shushing him with a finger to the lips. His lips feel like an ice cube, wet, cold. And as he opens his mouth, sucking the tip of my finger into his mouth, his cold breath sends a light layer of frost down the digit. I shiver, pulling my finger away, staring at it for a moment. He grins sheepishly, biting at his bottom lip. I chuckle softly, slipping the finger past my lips, vanquishing the frost as I slowly pulled it from my mouth. Bobby's grin becomes devilish, and tugging gently at my shirt, he pulls himself up the bed.

He drops down onto the pillow beside me, then softly presses his lips against my cheek. My entire body convulses with shivers, the flames surrounding us flickering as my body shakes. Bobby giggles softly, his body shivering, cold breaths of air beating down against my cheek. Each one feels like a snowball hitting me in the face. But as Bobby snuggles closer to me, his icy body pressing against me, the feeling is well worth it.

He continues to shiver, and the cold pressing against me makes me a lot colder than I’m used to, but underneath it all, there’s a warmth about it. Especially as his lips press against mine, even as the fire flickers and eventually fades around us as my arms wrap around him. His kiss is cold, icy (gee, imagine that), but yet his lips warm every inch of my soul. I can hold fire in my hand, make it do whatever I choose to; but no fire I could ever hold could warm me like I'm warmed from his kisses. He's Iceman, but he burns me with every kiss, every touch. I only wish I did the same to him, so maybe then he wouldn't still be shivering like this.

"Bobby," I whisper, separating the kiss. "You're still freezing,"

He turns onto his side, resting on his elbow, and smiling softly through his chattering teeth. "So make me warm,"

I roll onto my side, and try to reach over to the nightstand for my lighter. But before my arm even gets over him, Bobby's hand is on my chest, halting any movement. I stare down into his eyes, flashing a questioning smile. He smiles brightly in return, slipping his hand beneath my shirt as he leans up to kiss me. As his lips press against mine, his hand presses against my bare stomach, and I freeze. The dual contact lasts only seconds, but I’m chilled to the core by the time he pulls away. I just lay there, staring into his magnificent eyes, dumbstruck, frozen. And he just smiles, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer toward him.

"I want YOU to make me warm, Johnny," He whispers against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "YOU, not Pyro," He trails icy kisses slowly up my neck, traveling along my jaw, eventually stopping at my lips. He presses his lips softly against mine for only the briefest of moments, making me whimper when he pulls away, then he presses his forehead against mine. "Want you, Johnny,"

I grin slyly, nodding and pressing my lips gently against his. "Want you, Bobby,"

No more words were needed; he pushes his lips onto mine for a rough, devouring kiss. I gasp against his lips, partly from the kiss, but mostly from the cold pressing against me. He continues to shiver even as our kiss became deeper, and my hands begin to roam along his body, trying desperately to warm him. I was beginning to think it would never work, he'd just always be freezing; every time I'd touch him would be like packing a snowball without gloves, every time I'd kiss him it would be like eating a sno-cone. But I didn't really care, it would still be touching him, it would still be kissing him. And as my hands begin to release the buttons of his pajama shirt, fingertips pressing gently against his icy skin, cold suddenly doesn’t seem all that bad.

Easily, I vanquish the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric quickly from his shoulders. He shivers as the flannel leaves his body, landing on the floor amongst the piles of dirty clothes we kept for decoration. I push him gently onto his back, grazing my hand softly down his chest. My fingers make visible marks as they move along his skin, like steam on a mirror. I smile at the sight, and kneeling beside him, drag a finger down his stomach. With a featherlight touch, I trace the words ‘I love you' onto his stomach, blowing a light breath of air over them at finish. He shivers, his eyes fluttering shut, and his hand clenching in my t-shirt. Giggling softly, I pry his hand from my shirt and entwine my fingers with his. That brings his eyes open, slightly, and he smiles softly as I pull my shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor with his.

Smiling at him, I lean forward, bringing my lips to his stomach. Softly I press them to his belly button, slowly snaking my tongue forward. He moans softly as my tongue presses against his skin, tracing slow circles around his belly button. The sno-cone analogy pops back into my head as my tongue treks lazily up his stomach, and I giggle despite myself. He doesn't seem to notice, shivering with a sigh as gently, I lick gradually over the words I'd written on his skin. He begins to writhe beneath me, his hand clutching tightly in the sheets, his hips lifting slightly from the bed. By the time my tongue reaches the word ‘you', the blankets are bunched around his ankles, and his hand is clutching at my shoulder.

"Please, Johnny," He whimpers, nestling a hand in my hair.

I lift my head from his stomach, glancing up at him with a smirk. "Please what, Bobby?" I whisper, brushing the pad of my thumb against his nipple. "What do you want?"

His hand clenches tightly in my hair, and roughly he yanks me up to him. He drives his lips hard onto mine, coaxing both a gasp and a soft moan from me. The kiss is rough, punishing, and unlike any other we'd shared that day, it’s warm. I could still feel the cold from the rest of his body, but his lips were hot, scorching, hotter than any fire I could ever dream of. As the kiss goes on, deepening, I think maybe I've fallen head first into a volcano, and am slowly beginning to melt. But then his lips are gone from mine, leaving me colder than I've been all night. And as his hand snakes its way down my chest, springing goosebumps to my skin, and sending a shiver coursing through my body, I’m reminded that there is no volcano, and that the hot and the cold are both coming from my Iceman.

"I think you know what I want," He whispers, tugging at the waistband of my boxers. "Warm me,"

I grin, tucking my thumbs past the waistband of my boxers, and teasingly pushing them down. "I think I can handle that."

I smirk at him as I pushed my boxers past my groin, my cock springing to life, jutting out arrogantly from my body. He bites his lip, his eyes focused intently on my dick, watching it twitch and throb beneath his gaze. I keep my eyes locked on him as I push my boxers the rest of the way off, dropping them to the floor with our shirts. There’s a look of hunger in his eyes, making me harder by the second. Absently, I reach down and wrap a hand around my cock, stroking loosely. Bobby makes an interesting moan/whimper noise, and brings his own hand to his nipple. He begins to massage the tiny nub between his fingers, his eyes lifting up to mine. I’m swallowed immediately in the blue, my stroking becoming a lot less loose and a lot faster. There’s something in his eyes urging me on, to keep stroking myself until I reach release. But the nagging little voice in my head, which serves usually only as a nuisance, speaks up and reminds me what my objective was: Warm HIM up, not jerk ME off.

Reluctantly, I pull my hand from my cock, Bobby whimpering in objection. I grin at him, rubbing my hand along his stomach as I crawl backward on the bed. Licking my lips lasciviously, I bring my hands to his waist, tucking my index fingers into his pajamas. I waste no time in pulling them down, biting back a moan as his cock comes into view. I quickly wrap my hand around it, making him gasp and arch his hips. To my surprise, his cock feels nothing like ice; it's hot, searing, and I can feel it throb in my hand. For a second, I wonder why it isn't icy like the rest of him, but his pleasured growl as I begin to stroke him slowly pushes any thoughts from my mind. I can almost hear my mind shutting off, then suddenly there is only him, writhing on the bed, thrusting his hips up to meet my strokes, moaning softly and massaging his own nipples. It's a beautiful sight to behold, and one I'm sure will only get better as his pleasure increases, which I plan to make happen to the best of my ability. And trust me, the best of my ability is pretty damn good. I pull my hand from his cock, slipping it downward to cup his balls. I roll them slowly between my fingers, tugging gently while my other hand grazes down his leg. I tap his leg lightly, urging him silently to turn over. He doesn’t get the hint, keeping his eyes closed and laying still, so I take my hand from his balls. That gets his attention, and with a whimper he opens his eyes, smiling down at me. I smile warmly in return, mouthing the words ‘Turn over' and gently smacking his hip. He nods, biting his lip, and slowly turning onto his stomach.

I can still see him shivering as my eyes travel along his backside, but I couldn't be sure now if it was from cold, or from nervousness. I'd never asked, but I was almost certain this was Bobby's first time with a man. There was just something about Bobby Drake that said to me he wasn't one to fool around with guys back home in little old Boston. He was too nervous and uptight, and probably spent the whole time denying that he even had feelings for guys. I know that much for a fact, since he'd done the same thing with me when I first got here. I'd broken him of it, for the most part. He was the first one to kiss me after all. And then tonight, all of this had been his idea. I was sort of proud of him, he'd come a long way. I think that's deserving of an extra special treat.

Starting at the nape of his neck, I drag a finger slowly down his back, grinning as I watch goosebumps form on his skin, and he writhes beneath the touch. When I reach his ass, I slide the finger teasingly soft down the crack, brushing the tip lightly against his opening. He whimpers, arching his hips off the bed. I snicker quietly and continue to tease his opening, with gentle strokes of my finger. He moans, thrusting back against me, and lifting his hips off the bed. I grin at the sight, little does he know that was exactly what I wanted him to do.

Crawling backward on the bed, I bend forward, bringing my head level with his ass. And wasting little time, I replace my finger with my tongue, licking tentatively against his opening. He moans loudly, and taking that as a good sign, I increase the speed of my actions. Much like the rest of his body, this part was cold, chilling my tongue as it lapped against it. This feels like vaguely like summers back home, sucking on an ice cube to stay cool. This was so much better though, ice cubes never moaned like this, or pushed back against me, whimpering my name and urging me on like Bobby is doing right now. And no ice cube in the world could compare to this taste, so sweet, yet salty, just Bobby.

I continue a fast licking motion, bringing my hand around and fondling his cock. That garners an almost-scream from him, and I can feel the noise rumbling inside of him, like a tiny earthquake against my tongue as I push it into him. He tenses for a moment as I push my tongue into him, but relaxes quickly with a loud moan. I continue in my actions, thrusting my tongue quickly in and out of him, recklessly fondling his cock. As he begins to steadily rock his hips, meeting my motions, I know he’s close. So I pull my hand from his cock, and with one final lick to his opening, sit up on the bed.

He groans loudly, collapsing forward on the bed. I snicker at him, leaning up and kissing softly behind his ear. He shivers for a moment, burying his head in the pillow, then turning to face me. Our lips meet for a brief, soft kiss, before I pull away. He sighs happily, turning onto his side, and looking me over with a sheepish grin. I smirk, running a hand sexily along my chest, down to my cock. I wrap my hand around it, stroking lazily, my eyes locked onto his. He bites his lip, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Hesitantly, he reaches forward, slipping his hand over mine. Grinning, I take my hand away, allowing him to wrap his own around my cock. I hiss softly as his cold hand wraps around my shaft, and he begins a slow, deliberate stroking.

I moan quietly, thrusting my hips softly to meet his strokes. That seems to encourage him, and he quickens his motions, squeezing gently with each up-stroke. It was an incredible feeling, the cold wrapped around my dick, which had felt like it was burning all night. My body tingles, and my eyes flutter shut with each stroke. His hand finds a steady rhythm, and instinctively my hips meet it. My body whimpers with its desire to settle into the pleasure, but I refuse to give in; this was not how or where I wanted to come. With a sigh, I push his hand away, and gently shove him down onto the bed. He stares up at me in confusion, his eyes wide and questioning. I smirk down at him, rubbing my hand along his thigh, and nod my head toward my nightstand.

"In the drawer, there are condoms and lube, in a box. Grab them," I explain, running a hand through my hair.

He nods, reaching over to the nightstand and yanking open the drawer. He digs hurriedly through the sea of junk I keep in there, eventually producing the Trojan box. He slides it along the bed to me, bouncing it off my knee, then moving to the middle of the bed. I grin, emptying the box onto the bed before me. A variety of condoms scatter onto the sheets, followed by a tiny, half emptied bottle of lube. Bobby stares on in question, and for a second I'm tempted to let him pick out the condom. But knowing the way he is with simple things like ice cream, or soda, we'd be here another hour waiting, and I seriously doubt I could last that long. So I grab one at random, separating it and the bottle of lube from the pile, then shove the rest back into the box. I toss the box back toward the nightstand, missing and landing on the floor, resulting in a giggle from Bobby. I roll my eyes, snatching up the lube and condom from the bed, and nudge apart Bobby's legs with my knee. He quickly acquiesces, spreading his legs to either side of my hips with a devilish grin.

I smirk, shaking my head, and dropping the bottle of lube onto his stomach. He jumps slightly, making me snicker as I tear open the condom wrapper. His eyes follow my hands entranced as I unroll the condom onto my cock, biting back a moan from the feeling. Once covered to the hilt, I grab the bottle from his stomach and quickly flick the top open. I pour some directly onto my cock, and slowly work it along the length with my hand, Bobby whimpering softly as he watches me. My body tingles from the feeling, sending a shiver coursing down my spine. That was more than indicative that I wouldn't last too long if I kept things up, so pulling my hand from my cock, I wrap it around Bobby's, and place myself at his opening.

He moans softly, shifting his hips upward as I gently push myself past his opening. There is no cold to be felt as I rock my hips slowly forward, making my entrance as pain-free as I possibly could. He is burning hot, searing my flesh as I slip inch after inch into him. When buried to the hilt, I cry out of the feelings wracking my body, and collapse weakly against him. His chest is like ice, slapping me with cold, jolting me back to my senses. But as cold as it is, I refuse to lose the contact. The freezing cold pressed against me is a sharp contrast to the tight, searing heat wrapped around me, which created a feeling like no other I had ever felt. I couldn't put it into words if I tried; the only thing I know is that Bobby was the one giving it to me. And as I begin a slow, jerky thrusting motion into him, I know it is more than possible I will explode from the sheer pleasure of it all.

My slow thrusting lasts for only a minute, before Bobby begins to push back against me, wrapping his legs around me and pulling me deeper into him. He moans out loudly as I begin a harder thrusting, his chest vibrating against me. I begin to run my tongue along his chest, brushing softly over cold, firm pecs, against icy, frozen nipples. With each touch of my tongue, he cries out, clenching tightly around me, squeezing a loud moan from my lips. My actions gain in intensity with that, each thrust into him making me dizzier. I can feel orgasm creeping up slowly, and furiously I begin to jerk his cock, nipping alternatively at his nipples. It takes only seconds of that for him to start on a continuous rhythm of moaning, arching, and clenching tightly around me. He only lasts for moments more, then with one loud cry, he explodes between us, clenching hard around me. That was enough to pull me begrudgingly over the edge, and I lose it, muffling a boisterous moan against his chest.

Slowly, reluctantly, I pull myself from him, quickly disposing of the condom in the trash beside his bed. I collapse meekly against him, resting my head in the crook of his neck. As my lips press softly against his skin, I realize that what I feel beneath my body was no longer cold, but instead warm, sweaty. I smile to myself, grazing my hand lightly across his chest. He sighs, shifting on the bed and wrapping his arms around me, placing a gentle kiss to my temple.

"Thank you," He whispers, brushing a hand through my hair.

"For what?" I ask stupidly, nearly purring against him.

"For making me warm," He murmurs, yawning slightly.

I giggle quietly, leaning up and placing a light peck to his lips. He smiles warmly, and I have to kiss him again, but this time for just a bit longer. "Anytime," I smile, kissing him once more before laying back down against his chest. "And all the time, I hope,"

"You are such a perv, John..."

~ ~ ~

So much for the whole not thinking about that thing. I really shouldn't have done that, but whatever, what's done is done, I guess. I was upset before I thought about that, now I was just a little horny too. Or a lot horny, whatever. That was the most fulfilling night of my life, sexually, emotionally, any way possible really. I had never been as happy in my entire life as I was that night. It's so pathetic to say, but I finally felt like I had a purpose in life right then, and that was to take care of Bobby. I had done it before that, a little; the kid is so naive, he really needs someone to watch his back. But that night, I felt sort of like I was given the job of looking out for him. I was the one that was supposed to make sure he never hurt again, or that he was never cold again, or that he never had to hang around the room and pout all sexually frustrated like he used to. My job was to love him, plain and simple. I was more than thrilled to get that job, even though it didn't pay in money. It paid in something better, a lot better. It paid in love, in happiness, in friendship, in sex, and in a feeling of complete completeness I had sought my entire life. For the first time in my entire life I felt right. I was whole for the first time. I never, ever wanted that feeling to go away.

But, I learned to accept a long time ago that I never get what I want. Being abandoned by one's parents, being gay, and being a mutant can really do that to you. When I was a kid, all I wanted was for my parents to be together, so we could be one big, happy family. That never happened. As I got older, after bouncing around to several different foster families, all I wanted was to have a normal, stable life, so I could grow up and have kids and make sure they never had to go through any of the things I did. But then of course I had to realize I was gay, and not only that, but my mutation had to show itself, and I burned down my Junior High gym. That was when I realized that I was never going to get what I wanted, so I ran away. And eventually, I found my way to Mutant High. Then I met Bobby, and everything happened with him, and stupidly, I thought I might actually get what I wanted this time.

That's what I get for thinking.

I can't say that he did it maliciously to hurt me. He was just doing what HE wanted to do, and not worrying about anyone else. I sort of taught him that; talk about your ultimate backfire. I can't say now that I know what happened, that I wouldn't still teach him the things I did if given a second opportunity. It made him a better, stronger person. Before me, he couldn't have stood on his own, he would've been too scared to even try. But now, after me....He's a strong guy now, he could handle anything thrown at him. He doesn't even need me to keep him warm at night anymore, he finally mastered the control. Maybe that's why he did what he did. He just didn't need me anymore.

No, that's bullshit. It's all about HER. She presented him with the perfect, white picket fence life that he always wanted. He didn't want to be gay, any more than he wanted to be a mutant. I doubt that he ever wanted to love me, I was probably just something for him to kill time with until the right girl came along. Up until just a couple days ago, I never would've thought something like that. I couldn't have even fathomed the possibility that Bobby could still want all that, after everything we had been through together. But I guess he never stopped wanting it. And Rogue was the one to finally give it to him. Fuck her, life force sucking bitch.

Okay, that was mean. I doubt she had any idea what she was even disrupting. Something tells me that Bobby never gave her the details about me and him. "Oh no, we're just friends. Piotr told you we had sex in his closet? Why would he lie like that?" Bobby could be pretty convincing when he tried to be. And she hadn't been around long enough to know any different than whatever it is he told her. I like to think that if she had known about me and Bobby, she wouldn't have went for him. We always got along, me and her. I just never let myself become too friendly with her, after all, she was stealing my boyfriend. She's a nice enough girl though, not the type to steal a man who belongs to someone else if she knows about it. At least I don't think. But what the hell do I know about her? She could be sitting back relaxing right now, cackling with glee about how she not only stole my boyfriend, but she killed my party with the police earlier, and ran me out of town. Beneath that whole gentle, Southern Belle exterior burned a heart of evil, I just bet.

Yeah, right. She's probably sitting there asking where I am, and being the only one to show concern. That's the type of girl she is. I really wish I could hate her, but I just can't do it. She didn't really do anything, except be hot, and be a chick. If anything, she was just an innocent bystander. Bobby just used her as an excuse, so he could stop living a life he didn't want to.

Well, it worked for him. The life he hated was over. He could go on and be all cute and straight with Rogue now, and one day they'll figure out how to have babies, and then they'll live happily ever after. Meanwhile I'll probably be roaming the world, burning stuff, and still searching for that feeling of completeness again, knowing full well Bobby is the only person on Earth that can give it to me. That sucks like nothing has ever sucked before, but that's the way it is.

And that's the reason I left. To know that that feeling was right in front of me, but I can't have it...I'd rather trade my Zippo in for a less manageable flame thrower, and wear some yellow and orange spandex. And while that might not seem bad to you, wearing spandex is on my list of the Things I Will Never Do. Right behind own a Baby Bic, and buy a Celine Dion CD. It's not a very long list, so that should tell you how bad that stuff is. Before today, the list only had four things on it, one of which was a person (Hello Kitty.) But now, the list was up to five. And after years at the top, Celine got her anorexic ass booted down to #2. And the new number one was one I vowed to never let happen: Go back to Mutant High.

I was never cut out to be an X-Man anyway. I don't give a shit about saving the humans, I believe in using my powers whenever convenient, and I won't wear skintight leather. So I guess maybe it's only right that I left, I had no real reason to stay. I would've left a long time ago, but I stuck around because I loved Bobby. And now, I left for the very same reason. It's a much different situation when the feeling is no longer reciprocated. I loved him more than anything living and breathing on this Earth, but that's not enough for me to stick around if I know he doesn't feel the same way. I guess that's selfish of me, but I don't give a fuck anymore. I've got the right to be selfish, my heart is broken. And if I want to run away from my pain, I dare anyone to step up and try to stop me. It's something I needed to do, and I have no regrets.

Or actually, I do have one. And that's not telling Bobby thank you. Thank you for casting me off, and reminding me that the only person I can truly trust is myself. A couple years of sunshine, rainbows and Sno-Cones, and I'd completely forgotten. He sure did remind me though, and he made it all look so simple....

Eh, what the hell. I've already thought about a bunch of things I shouldn't have today, what's one more?

~ ~ ~

"I've decided that it's over between us. I'm going to be with Rogue."

His words are like a gun, firing straight into my stomach. I gasp as I hear them, losing control of the flame I held in my hand. It shoots forward, colliding with the mirror that hung above his dresser, shattering the glass into a million different pieces. Instantly Bobby's hand shoots up, and the flame is frozen, sticking to what remains of the mirror frame. I lock my eyes onto it, staring into the icy ball as his words play on repeat in my head. He ended it. Just like that. For Rogue. I can't say that I didn't see it coming. I knew, just knew from the first second they started hanging out all the time what was going to happen. I knew what Bobby wanted, but I couldn't admit it. I didn't want to admit it, because that meant admitting one of my biggest fears: That I wasn't enough for him. Well, that fear had been proven true tonight. He was leaving me, for Rogue. And I can't even react to it.

All I can do is sit here, in silence, staring at a ball of frozen fire. I can strangely relate to that ball right now, it's exactly how I feel. Frozen. Cold. Dead. Ice kills fire, that's something I've learned over the past couple years. Whenever I wanted to show off, Bobby was always there to stop me cold, pun intended. With one flick of the wrist, he could extinguish me. It was so easy for him, and he'd shown that right now. With just a few simple words, he'd killed my fire. Maybe that was why I couldn't react. I was frozen. I was dead. I was also...

"Johnny," His voice interrupts my thought.

"Slowly, I turn my eyes to his, holding back any emotion that threatened to show. "What?" I asked, my voice nearly a growl.

"Please say something,"

"What do you want me to say, Bobby?" I snap, swinging my feet from the bed onto the floor. "Do you want me to say congratulations, have a nice life with your new girlfriend?"

"I don't expect you to say that," He speaks quietly, staring down at the floor.

"What do you expect me to say?" I shout. "Seriously Bobby, what the fuck do you really expect me to say right now?"

"I don't know!" He yells in reply, getting to his feet. "Say anything you want to, John. I know your mind is just crawling with thoughts right now,"

I step close to him, clenching my hands into fists at my side. I have to fight diligently to quell the desire to draw back and punch him. Hitting him would do no good right now, except to make me look like the asshole. He was the one dumping me, for a chick he couldn't even touch. I think that makes him the asshole. Especially since I know that the entire reason he's doing it is so he can pretend to be something he's never going to be. I want to scream that at him, but I know it will accomplish nothing. He is stubborn if he is anything, and his mind is obviously set on this. It's a decision he made on his own, and anything I do or say isn't going to sway his mind. So that leaves me with just one thing to say.

Sighing, I lean forward and press my lips softly against his. Despite anything he may've already said today, he still kisses back. That claws at my heart, and I close my eyes tightly to push back tears. It was only half successful, my eyes filling up with water. I knew then that the tears were on their way, but I'd be damned if he would get to see them. Taking a deep breath, I lock my eyes on his, and speak softly.

"I hope one day someone does this to you, so you know how badly I'm hurting right now,"

With that, I push past him and leave the room, slamming the door behind me. From inside the room I hear Bobby's voice sound angrily, then a muffled shattering sound. It takes me a moment to figure out, but I remember about the iced flame as I collapse against the wall momentarily as the tears began to flow. I clamp my eyes shut tightly, clenching my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palm. I'm not frozen anymore. I guess I wasn't dead after all, either. But now I was dying. I still related to that iced flame. It was shattered now, and that was exactly how I felt. I have never hurt so bad in my entire life. I would rather be frozen than feel like this. I need a fucking cigarette...

~ ~ ~

I never did get that damned cigarette. Those were still in the dorm, and I didn't go back there for about 2 days after that whole incident happened. The day I did go back, the damn school was invaded by the government in another "Death to all Mutants!" campaign. I escaped, obviously. But as some sick, twisted joke the world wanted to play on me, I wound up stuck with Bobby and Rogue the whole time. The only good thing about it was the fact that Bobby was in his boxers for a good eight hours. Other than that, it was nothing but a prolonged agony. Actually, him being in the boxers was just agony too. It wasn't a fun situation to be in at all. In fact, this entire trip blew like a cheap hooker in Downtown Queens on a Friday. Almost get shot, almost die as part of mass mutant genocide, almost fall and kill myself on some ice, have to spend time confined in a jet with the happy couple; yeah, it REALLY fucking sucked. No wonder leaving was so damned easy.

Okay, it wasn't easy. And it probably never will be, either. I just keep telling myself all this stuff about how it was what I was supposed to do, and I'm going to be better off for it in the end. I'm not so sure I really believe that, but it's too late to change my mind now. This is the path I chose, and there's no turning back. Except for memories, I guess. Look to the past while moving into the future, I heard that somewhere. Something tells me the memories are going to be what gets me through this time. They're all I have left now, really. I left all the friends I had, and what little bits of a life I had, not to mention all the clothes I had, when I stepped onto this helicopter. It's basically starting over for me. I begin a new life, again, with a clean slate. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that right now.

I never was a good guy, and I guess I'm even less of one now. Though really, I don't know if that's true. I didn't do anything except get my heart broken. If that makes me the bad guy, then I guess I'm the bad guy. Heartbreak will make you do some strange things. In my case, it made me leave. Even if leaving wasn't the right choice, I had to do it. I couldn't have stayed there and watched Bobby and Rogue live happily ever after, it hurt too much. It still hurts doing things this way, but it hurts a lot less than it would. The only thing I've got left to remind me of everything is my memories. But Bobby...he's got an entire room full of my stuff. And he's not stupid, he has to know that the entire reason I left was him.

I'm sure he's not going to leave my stuff the way it was. I'm not going back, it would be stupid of him to. And I'm sure he doesn't want to look at it every day and remember everything we went through. I hope though, that when he's cleaning stuff out, he will remember the things that I do. And I hope he'll smile, because I know I will. The memories might hurt right now, but in a little while, they're just going to be sweet, like they were when they happened the first time. I know there is no getting Bobby out of my head, or out of my heart. I'll never be rid of the memories of him, and I don't want to be. And I hope, really truly hope, that he doesn't want to be rid of the memories of me either.

I just want to believe that I really did mean something to him. I think that's one want that I can actually have; there's no one around to tell me any different, so I can believe whatever I want. And really, even if he does want to get rid of the memories, it's not going to happen. He'll never get rid of the memories of me, no matter how much he might want to. Because simply put, I'm totally unforgettable.

END

© 2003 Triple X