Title: Kinda I Want To
Author: Askani'daughter / Eruntalince (newloverboys@yahoo.com)
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Kinda I Want To 11 - Through Warren's Eyes
By Askani'daughter
Excerpt from Warren Worthington III's private diary, dated June 15th:
It was really all very surreal, how Scott and I finally consummated our relationship.
The past month had been pretty rough on my libido. I was trying so hard to be understanding and supportive, and not push the issue. But when he almost constantly wanted me naked and in his arms, without even the hope of hands wandering below the waistline, I admit I was quickly losing patience with him. I wanted to shake him and ask if he wanted me, and if he did, why couldn't he just get on with it?
Of course, there was his fear, but I *knew* he was over that. For the most part. I could feel him now, and he could feel me. He knew I wouldn't abuse the privileges he gave me. Thankfully, he also knew I wanted the sex for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was my desire to show how much I love him. But now, Scott was just embarrassed, and under pressure, and very unsure of himself.
He knew, and he knew that I knew, that he loved me. Scott wants me, otherwise he wouldn't torture me by stripping me naked most nights and staring at me, telling me how beautiful I am...
But then he wondered exactly what it meant to be with another man. Scott had these weird ideas, and I guess he thought that one of us would be losing our masculinity. I tried to patiently explain to him that this isn't the Middle Ages, and no, Scott, you wouldn't be less of a man, and I won't be less of a man, and any way you want to do this, Scott, is fine by me, just please for the love of God get your act together before my head explodes?
And then there's Scott's own unique way of dealing with pressure, dealing with the expectations he thought I had, was *convinced* I had. Not to mention the expectations he certainly had of me. Scott can handle pressure, but not gracefully. So he kept putting it off, unsure of himself sexually, knowing he wants it, but wondering if he's going to like it. All this unresolved sexual tension was driving us both nuts.
I enjoy arguing with him, I really do. Scott and I, we were always like that. Arguing was a form of foreplay for us. The conflict turns me on. And we've been arguing constantly for the past month. That's a really long time for foreplay. I was half tempted to just jump him in the shower, but images of our shower encounter years ago kept me in line. Warren, the good little angel, dying to be touched, but still, he keeps his hands to himself, yes he does.
And I wasn't certain, but I think part of Scott enjoyed dangling me on a hook. Oh yes, Scott Summers, fearless leader of the X-Men and rock solid super hero, enjoyed making his boyfriend suffer. It's so Scott. He likes knowing he holds all the cards. He likes being in control. So he has his little pet angel, practically on his knees, begging for a piece of ass. Okay, so I was desperate enough to get on my knees if he wanted. Try holding out for a month of being teased with what you want, and being so close, and then try and say you wouldn't beg.
I didn't get Scott's guilt, though. I could feel the guilt through our link, but I didn't understand it. It unnerved me, because I wondered if he felt guilty about our whole relationship, guilty about not being with Jean. Which is what really bothered me, I suppose. The doubts that Scott loved me truly. That Scott wanted someone else, even now.
And since it was Scott's and my personal business, and strictly between me and him, naturally, the whole damn mansion knew about it. I think they were placing bets on when Scott would cave. Our sex life was all a joke to them, which made me want to choke every last one. Especially when they started bringing Scott not-so-subtle hints. Like Rogue and the magazine, Remy and his massage oil, Bobby and his sex lube, and I *still* want to know which one of those fuckers put the vibrating dildo on top of Scott's uniform. He flung it so hard, it hit me in the head and knocked me unconscious for fifteen minutes. If I ever find the rotten little bastard...
But as I said, it's very surreal how we finally got together.
We'd been fighting all day long. Non-stop. I was pretty well worked-up, and was equally torn between bashing Scott's face in and fucking him like a rabbit. And Scott gets just as worked up as I do. I remember how close we came after the Sock Drawer Incident. He knows our arguments are foreplay, and yet, he still tortures me with them. See how he is?
He was simultaneously yelling at me and cleaning the toilet. I have yet to meet someone as neat and clean as Scott Summers. It would have been funny to watch him wave around the toilet brush in frustration, if I wasn't just as frustrated, and throwing bits and pieces of his uniform at him. I don't think I'd ever been happier than the moment when his belt wound up. Don't ask me what we were arguing about. I don't even remember.
I finally gave up and stalked out, fuming over some petty bullshit. I stalked all the way to my favorite spot in the garden. Dried-out fountain, and dirty stone benches. There's even a cherubic little angel boy with an empty bowl that's supposed to pour into the fountain. Looks to me like he's pissing all over it, and that's how I felt.
So I sat down, and did something I've gotten very good at. I brooded. For hours. When I finally stopped, it must have been ten p.m.
I reached a decision. If he didn't want me, then we would just be friends. I couldn't take all this sexual tension. I've wanted him so much, for so long, that to be this close and still be kept at arm's length... I just couldn't take it. No man could be expected to remain in a relationship where he's not desired. If Scott wanted us to be friends, then dammit, we needed to be friends. No more kissing and snuggling in the dark, because it just reminded me so much of he didn't want to give me. How could he ask me to lie beside him, naked, so he could stare at me, touch me, and not let me do the same?
As usual, I was so wrapped up in my own desires, that I didn't stop to think about his. I *knew* how he felt, but I just didn't want to deal with it. I didn't want to understand his guilt, and I was still convinced he wanted to go back to Jean.
I stood up, fully intent on telling Scott off, and breaking up with him, when a small, delicate hand pushed me back down on the bench with strength I could only associate with either Rogue's muscle or Jean's telekinesis.
It was Jean.
I glared at her, angry and jealous enough to attribute my problems with Scott to her. She smiled at me, her green eyes almost gray in the dark.
"The benefit of being a telepath, Warren, is that I can stop my friends from doing something stupid the moment they think it. Now sit down, shut up, and listen hard," she commanded.
I blinked at her, rustling my wings in agitation, but Jean ignored that and took a seat beside me. She stared at her green pants and smoothed them out with her palms. She seemed thoughtful, and I left her to her thoughts, not having anything to say to her that she didn't already know.
"He loves you. He loved you long before I showed up, Warren. You know that. He was scared of you at first, scared of the feelings you brought up in him. Scott is very repressed. Do you know how long it took me just to convince him to have sex with *me*?" she asked, her eyes glittering oddly in the pale moonlight.
I stared at her.
"Empathy is frustrating. He's sending you all these emotions, but you don't have any way to understand them. And you can't see past the surface emotions, because he's hiding his deeper emotions from you. Scott's like that. He doesn't want to appear weak. Especially to you, Warren.
"He's not so much scared of you anymore, as he's scared of wanting you. Part of him still has this ingrained 'homosexuality is evil'. His father was in the military, remember? He's scared of how much you want him. He's scared that he's going to get sucked into you, and then he's going to forget himself. Like he did with me.
"No, Warren, he doesn't want to come back to me. Oh, he loves me, and I love him, but love isn't everything. That story is done. I wanted to be free, and I wanted him to be free. I let him go for both our sakes. There's more to life than what we had. We already had a life together. It's over, and even he knows it. I have nothing to do with this.
"He's guilty because he feels that he's taking advantage of you. That he's been hurting you since the day you two met. He's guilty because he thinks that he's partially responsible for everything that's happened to you. And guilt is not exactly an aphrodisiac, Warren.
"And of course the pressure's killing him. An outsider might see parts of your relationship, but not all of it. Some of the team may have found parts of it amusing. Even I have to admit the fight about the sock drawer was hilarious. Indeed, to someone from outside, your whole relationship of late might be just one big joke. But even that person understands that there's more to this than simple UST.
"Does he enjoy letting you dangle? Well, he *is* Scott, and you know how he is. He's a bit of a control freak, we know. But it's not something he does consciously. No, Warren, he wants you as much as you want him, maybe even more.
"Do you think Scott would do the things he does in private with you, if he didn't want you? But Scott never does anything without a plan of action, with strategy, tactics, with every little detail and every contingency accounted for. But see, you wreck that, Warren. You just come in and stomp his little model of how life's supposed to be. You always have. You're taking him into uncharted territory, and Scott doesn't know where to go, or what to plan for. It's not so much the sex part. The sex part is his way of trying to regain control.
"He's in love with you, Warren. Never doubt that. He loves you more than life, maybe even more than me. He's loved you for a long time. Ever since you showed up and took his breath away. But now that love is real, because you're real. The more you suffered, the more you became like him, the more he loved you. And that's why he feels guilty."
I said nothing during her speech, mostly because I was speechless. I stared long and hard into Jean's emerald eyes, and remembered why I thought I once loved her. She was something of a shrinking violet when we first met, but life has tempered adamantium into Jean's soul. Unbreakable.
"How...did you...I mean, you were...married...and..." I sighed after a while, unable to form my question. Good thing Jean reads minds.
"You want to know the moment I knew he was in love with you? And why I didn't do anything? Because then, I still needed Scott, and he needed me. And of course, we loved each other, still do, but then there was more to it. But the moment I knew was when I found his keepsake box and looked inside. I never told him. Ask him, Warren, ask him to show you what's inside it," Jean smiled.
I blinked and stared down at my hands. "So you're trying to tell me we need to talk. Again," I sighed.
"That's the problem with two stubborn, pig-headed men being in the same relationship. Neither of you want to talk about your problems," Jean chuckled.
"We're men. We're supposed to emotionally closed off and incapable of communication," I smiled.
"Bullshit. Now get going, Warren. He's reorganized the entire room, and I'm afraid he's going to try mine next," she laughed.
"Did it drive you nuts, too?"
"Of course it did. But I didn't needle him about it, so he didn't do it as much. Now go!"
I saluted her and headed back to the bedroom I shared with Scott, mulling over what she just told me. I arrived inside, finding Scott sitting on the bed, organizing his nightstand. I said nothing, I just dropped on the bed, spreading my wings out of my way, and rested on my elbows, looking up at him.
Scott glanced at me, stopping what he was doing. He raised an eyebrow, noting the playful smile on my face. "What?" he asked cautiously, and he was tightly guarding his emotions from me.
"Talked to Jean," I said conversationally. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish.
"She said we're both stubborn, pig-headed men," I grinned. Scott snorted and turned back to the pile of magazines in the drawer. One of them caught my eye, so I grabbed it before he could stop me. I grinned ear to ear when I realized it was the one Rogue had bought him.
"Give it back, Warren," he said in a tired voice.
I flipped to one of the pages and looked at it with interest. "Looks like fun," I said, keeping my voice conversational.
Scott blushed. I like it when he blushes. He blushes a lot lately. He reached for the magazine, but I rolled over and away from him, playfully batting my wings. He grabbed me by the waist, dodging my wings nimbly and pulled me back, trying to grab the magazine form my hands. I struggled slightly, pushing him back until he fell on his ass on the bed. I sat on his lap, wriggling slightly, making sure I got his attention.
He sucked in his breath with a hiss, his grip on my waist tightening. He was aroused, I could feel it. "Warren," he warned, narrowing his eyes.
"Mmm. Happy to see me?" I teased, wriggling again and getting a proper reaction. I smiled, leaning my face to touch his.
"The magazine," he sighed, but he wasn't letting me go. I was inspired.
"The keepsake box," I replied, snaking out my tongue and licking his lips.
He was startled. "Keepsake box?" he asked.
"If you show me yours, I show you mine," I grinned, enjoying the double entendre.
"You have a keepsake box?" he blinked.
"No, but I have a few keepsakes. C'mon, Scott. Please?" I asked him sweetly, giving him my best angel face.
Scott sighed. He slid me off his lap, and reached around and rummaged through his nightstand, pulling out a small, worn box. He handed it to me silently, his eyes suddenly very warm, very deep, and very vulnerable.
I gently pulled the lid off, and peered inside. Inside was his first X-pin from the Professor, a medal from his father, his wedding rings from Jean, a small toy car that I can only assume was from his brother, and one of my feathers. No. Several feathers. And one of the metal sections of my wings. I looked up at him.
Scott was staring at the box. "They were so beautiful. When you dropped one, I would collect it. This," he said, holding up the whitest and newest feather, "is one of the feathers you left in our bed."
I was touched. I know it's cheesy, but open a box of precious items from someone you love, and find parts of yourself in it, and try and say you wouldn't be touched. You'd be lying. I leaned over and kissed him, trying to convey how touched I was by the movement of my lips, the passion of my mouth. He kissed back, as gently and sweetly as he always does. I love how he kisses, so soft, yet not lacking in any passion.
I pulled back, and I brought my left wing beside us, and I pulled out a small chain I had wrapped inside my wing, underneath feathers that no one would ever think to look under. I handed it to him, letting him figure out for himself what it was.
"The quarter! The quarter I shot for you the day we met!" he exclaimed, looking up at me in surprised happiness.
I didn't say anything, I just fell back against his body, and he put the chain on his dresser, so he could properly hold me. I felt very happy at that moment. Wanted and loved.
"What did Jean say?" he asked after a long time.
"Hmm?"
"When you talked to her. What did she say?"
"She was just trying to explain to me how you are. Trying to explain to me that I shouldn't give up on you. That I should talk to you. But this is better than words, Scott," I sighed.
He held me tighter, his face buried in my neck. "I'm sorry, Warren," he said.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Scott. You're not responsible for my actions. I am. You're here now, and that's what counts," I soothed, feeling the rush of his guilt surge past me.
His guilt was still there, but it ebbed away. It was odd, but Scott's emotions were like the sea to me. One moment surging past me, one moment calm and serene.
"We've been fighting a lot this past month," he said, frowning.
I smiled. "Foreplay. We've also been snuggling," I said, fondly remembering lying stretched out on top of him, my head on his stomach, my body resting between his legs, as we watched Pearl Harbor on DVD. And taking turns making fun of the predictable love triangle, and picking apart Affleck and Hartnett's relationship to reflect our own.
"More foreplay," Scott grinned shyly, his hands running down my back thoughtfully.
I kissed him in answer. I could wait. I could wait a million years if he would just hold me like this for the rest of my life.
"Warren...I...we..." he sighed, and I felt his frustration, and his desire.
I raised my head, staring at him. Was he...?
"I want you to make love to me..." he finally said, staring at me, his cheeks flaming red.
"Are you sure you want this, Scott? Now?" I asked, staring at him thoughtfully. Somehow, I always thought he'd take charge sexually, but then again, sexually, Scott never took charge of anything. It certainly didn't matter to me who was on top. And things like that always change on a daily basis, regardless of what stereotypes people have developed about gay relationships.
"Yes, I do, Warren. Just...go slow, okay?" he asked, closing his eyes, and I realized how vulnerable Scott can be when he lets his guard down.
"Anything you want, love," I whispered to him. Maybe it's bad to say, but I'd do anything he asked me. Eat, sleep, hunt, kill, fuck, die. Anything. I guess that's what love is all about. The willingness to sacrifice your soul to another human being, and trusting them to not abuse that trust. Scott would never ask me to do anything wrong, but I would do it anyway.
I kissed his throat, tenderly, sucking gently on the flesh. "Lie down, Scott," I ordered into his ear, edging him back against the pillows. Scott rested up against them, staring up at me, stroking my face.
I slowly took my clothes off, giving him a private strip show, straddled across his thighs. His hands roamed my face and chest as I removed my clothes and I purred under his touch. I leaned down to kiss him, reaching between our bodies to remove his clothing, anxious to see him naked. He had no problem with my nudity, but got apprehensive being naked around me.
He tensed when I took his clothes off. I rubbed his naked chest, admiring his body. Scott's tall, and his body is long, and every part of him is sculpted into slender muscle. A light, almost bronzed tan covered his body, pale white flesh around where his shorts cover his body. And a very impressive endowment. He licked his lips nervously as I studied him, and I felt his embarrassment at being naked. I looked up and met his brown eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I...I'm not much compared to you. Sorry..." he sighed, the lines of his face tense. I blinked. It all clicked together in my head.
Scott still sees himself as the too pale, too skinny kid. He might have filled his body out, but he would always see in his reflection, despite the sensual beauty the rest of us saw, that he was just a gawky, rail-thin boy. I didn't even think about it until then.
"Scott...how can I convince you how beautiful you are to me? Always have been? How sexy you are?" I whispered, sending him a flood of my desire through our link. With Jean, desire was one thing, with me, Scott's back at the beginning. She might have convinced him she found him desirable, but I would have to re-convince him. Scott just doesn't see himself as desirable, and the attention he receives from women, and even men confuses him.
He smiled, blinking under the emotions I sent him. He really does have a nice smile, even though he doesn't use it much. I bent down to kiss his lips again. God, I love how he tastes...
"Blue's my favorite color," I heard him mutter into our kiss. I chuckled.
"Good thing I'm blue then," I whispered, sliding my hands up and down his chest. He's really filled out since his teenage days...
Scott absorbed himself in our kissing, our hands doing our talking, sliding all over each other's bodies. He'd stroke my hips, my thighs, even tentatively stroke my ass, but he avoided my cock all together. I stayed away from his, just letting him get used to raw sexuality with another man.
"S'not any different from a woman," he muttered after a while, bold enough to grip my ass in his hands.
"Did you think it would be?" I asked him, mildly amused.
"Yes," he sighed, looking into my eyes. I'd never done much soul-searching in eyes before Scott.
"It's really not. Just different body parts to play with," I grinned, rubbing his ass underneath my hands, working the muscles, causing him to groan.
He had me around the waist, and crushed me against him, causing us to both gasp when our cocks brushed against each other. I wriggled slightly, so I could rock into his hips. Scott apparently hadn't stopped to consider this was possible until now, and he moaned softly, burying his face in my neck, rocking back.
I pushed him back into the bed suddenly, withdrawing from rocking into him. He moaned at the lack of contact, blinking his eyes in annoyance at me. I quieted him with a quick kiss, and quickly kissed my way down his chest and stomach, wanting to reach my prize.
Scott already knew what I wanted to do, and his fingers tangled in my hair. "Warren..." he breathed, spreading his thighs slightly.
Scott cried out when I finally reached his cock, sliding my tongue around the head. He bucked slightly, so I braced my hands against his hips, so I could fully appreciate lapping at the velvety tip underneath my tongue. Sucking dick was something I was always good at, and Scott tasted so good...
"Oh, fuck..." he gasped when I engulfed him, sucking gently. Scott pressed upward against my hands but I kept him still by pressing back. He was tugging on my hair, and dripping into my mouth. I let my tongue run up and down the vein on the underside of his cock before stepping up my suction, enjoying the sound of him mewling and crying in pleasure. Listening to Scott Summers vocalize pleasure was quickly becoming an aphrodisiac to me, and I knew my cock was swelling in anticipation of what I wanted.
Scott arched back into the bed when he came, filling my mouth with his seed, crying my name out loudly. I continued to suck until he was soft in my mouth, drinking down every last drop. I withdrew slowly and stretched up to kiss him. He kissed me back hard, his hands still tangled in my hair.
"Christ, that was good, Warren," he whispered, sliding his hands down my back. I groaned appreciatively when he found that spot on the base of my wings that's so sensitive. Scott had just the right amount of pressure, not too hard, not too soft.
I was already starting to leak on him, and I knew I had to get this done or I wasn't going to last. And I wanted it to last, I wanted it to be perfect for him.
"Sit up," I urged him, pulling back so I was in an upright position. He drew himself up, not letting our kiss break for more than a second.
Scott was already wrapping his long legs around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I enclosed us in my wings, kissing his throat, listening to him pant against my ear. He was already starting to get hard against my stomach. I felt along our link for any sense of hesitation in him, but Scott had pretty much thrown his inhibitions out the door by now.
"Don't suppose you still have that bottle of lube Bobby gave you?" I asked him, chuckling against his throat, licking his Adam's apple. Even his *skin* tasted good.
"You don't have some?" he laughed, going back to massaging the base of my wings. I wriggled, not knowing how long I could hold out with him doing *that*.
"I do, but your nightstand is closer," I whispered, not wanting to detach myself from him.
"Just promise not to tell Bobby we're making use of his gift. We'll never live it down," he groaned when I bent down and nibbled at one of his nipples. Scott stretched away from me, and started fumbling in his recently organized nightstand. After a few minutes of me licking the side of his neck and his shoulder, he found the bottle, stretching back to kiss me and pass it to me.
I glanced at it, noting it was not only a good brand, but expensive. Hmm. This brings up questions about our resident cryotechnic idiot. Things to ask Bobby about later.
Scott distracted me from my musings with a very firm massage on the base of my wings. I wriggled again, moaning for him to stop. I just couldn't even be expected to think with that sort of touching. I pushed him back against the headboard, kissing his throat and collarbone.
"This might...will...hurt, Scott," I sighed, not wanting to scare him off, but not wanting to lie either.
"I know, Warren. It's okay. I'm okay. I want you," he whispered. I groaned. There's something about the way Scott says he wants me that puts shivers down my spine.
I absently squeezed some of the lotion onto my fingers, kissing him gently. I slid my thighs underneath his, bringing him almost on my lap. He spread his legs without being asked to, and I reached down, placing my finger over his tight opening.
"Relax, Scott," I whispered, wrapping my other arm around him, enfolding us both in my wings. Scott rested his head on my shoulder, breathing into my neck, and I felt a sense of vulnerability in him, and his trust in me. He trusted me. I closed my eyes and smiled, rubbing my cheek against his, touched by his trust.
I sent him my love, and my comfort, probing gently as I felt him relax. Our empathic bond was definitely making this whole thing a million times more intense than any sex I'd ever had before. Scott tensed at the sudden intrusion, but I paused until he relaxed again, squeezing my entire finger in him. Scott moaned, mostly from pain and the weird feeling of being intruded.
I didn't even speak, just sending him wave after wave of my own emotions, letting him adjust before I moved my finger, searching for his spot. When I found it, Scott cried out, this time from pleasure. He pressed back against my hand, his face burying into my shoulder.
"What's that?" he moaned.
"Prostate. S'what makes this all so fun," I whispered, nuzzling my head against his, and sliding in a second finger, which Scott barely noticed. I tried to stretch him a little, so it wouldn't be so sudden when I entered him. He moaned and pressed back against my hand, obviously enjoying himself, and sending back his love, his pleasure, and his desire to me.
"Want you...now..." he hissed into my ear, sliding up my thighs. God, how could I be holding out so long? I'd never wanted anything more than this. To be part of Scott in every way.
I just gasped, withdrawing my fingers and grabbing his hips, pulling him up towards my aching, throbbing cock. Without being asked or told, Scott squeezed some of the lotion onto his own fingers, tossing the bottle to the other side of the bed, and reached down to work me over with the lotion. I moaned, soaking up the first touch of Scott's hands on my dick. I tightened my wings about us, pressing his chest to me, forcing his hands to let go or be trapped. I couldn't take much more of this...
I only barely registered I was slipping inside of him, so lost in the haze of ecstasy he was already putting me in. He felt so good, tasted so good. Was this what heaven was supposed to be like? I kissed him as fiercely as I could, our tongues tangling. He was so hot, so tight, and his hands were reaching to rub my wings again, exploiting me. I was lost, and only the instincts of my body kept me thrusting up inside him, into his prostate, causing him to gasp and cry out.
Every emotion he ever felt for me, even the jealousy and frustration was funnelling into me, and my emotions for him were cresting back into him. Everything became bright, and hot, and so very real, this moment of utter union between us, a moment where we were finally together in every way, almost one person. The greatest of all the emotions I felt, the one that made me dizzy with joy, was his love. Scott loved me.
Scott. Loved. Me.
I loved Scott.
We came together, at the same moment. Surreal. Perfect. Our bodies reacting to the union our hearts and mind had, so even our orgasms were timed the same. It felt like it lasted forever, a moment that stretched out for an eternity, of just me and him, in perfect bliss. It wasn't the act of sex, but what it meant. It meant that Scott trusted me enough, loved me enough, to ignore every social precept, every societal demand, and just finally be complete with me, and only me. To share a moment, where no one else existed, never had, and never will.
When it was over and we came down together, I was resting on top of him, our bodies stretched out to meet every part we could. I kissed him again, feeling euphoric. This was definitely what heaven was like.
"Love you," he whispered.
"Love you back," I whispered.
We fell asleep together, tangled up, so not even we knew where one of us began and the other ended. We dreamed the same dream, of each other. This didn't mean we would never have problems or arguments again, but it meant we were real together. It meant that Scott and Warren were part of each other in every way. It meant that there was no fear or guilt left. It meant that Scott trusted me, and I him.
As I said, it was all very surreal.