Fic: Expectations and Mercy
E-mail: violet147@yahoo.com
Rating: R/NC-17.
Warnings: Um. A slight touch of angst, some boy on boy love in a car. Whoo!
Pairings: Bobby/St. John
Summary: Bobby expects he'll run into his old friend one day.


After John abandons them for what everyone assumes will be madness and villainy, Bobby expects to see old his friend eventually, and expects that one day he’ll have to use that friendship against him. He knows that’s what it will come to, that eventually, he’s going to have to use his intimate knowledge of John’s strengths and weaknesses, and he’s going to have to use it to defeat who used to be his best friend, before Marie, anyway. He knows it. He’s not sure if he’s ready for it, and he just prays that he’ll be ready for the day when he runs into John again.

What Bobby doesn't expect, though, is to see his old friend so soon after John and Dr. Grey both went their separate ways. And he certainly doesn’t expect to see John outside of a bar, of all places, walking in the parking lot. From a distance he still looks like John, and Bobby reprimands himself for thinking such stupid thoughts, because of course John’s going to still look like John. Going evil doesn’t make you look different.

And suddenly John looks over, and shit, he sees Bobby, and Bobby tries to turn around, to go back to his car, but damn, it’s too late, John yells out his name. Bobby turns around just as John’s walking over to him, and from far away, he looks the same, but as he gets closer, Bobby sees the differences not only in John’s stride, but his face. He’s so much more…confident. Powerful. In control. With every living person at his mercy.

Bobby must be losing his mind. He closes his eyes and re-opens them, and John’s the same, still has those flashing eyes and teasing fingers. He stands in front of Bobby now, a slight smile on his face, as if he’s still on Bobby’s side. “Didn’t expect to find you here,” he says, and the words roll off his tongue so fluidly, he doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds worldly, powerful. In control. Like he could have anyone begging for mercy in two seconds flat.

“Are you alright?” Bobby immediately asks, the words just blurting out of his mouth.

“Haven’t been better,” John answers, a smile on his face. Apparently, the apprehension is clearly written all over Bobby’s own face, because John laughs, and it’s seriously the most pure, rich laugh that Bobby has ever heard come out of those plump lips. “Fuck, man, chill. It’s not like we’re enemies or something,” he says. Bobby just stares at him, and John slithers closer. Fucking slithers. Bobby’s pretty sure John never did that when he was at the school. “Just think of it this way, Drake. I’m not the bad guy…I just switched schools,” he adds, a twinkle (or is it a flame?) in his eye.

“We will be, though,” Bobby can’t help but saying.

“We aren’t tonight,” John replies. He makes a gesture for Bobby to follow him. “Come on. Let’s go for a drive. Catch up and shit.” He licks his lips and smiles smugly, like he knows Bobby will follow, like he knows he’ll be able to make Bobby writhe for mercy. Bobby doesn’t remember John ever looking at him like that. Hell, he doesn’t remember John ever being able to look at anyone like that.

But Bobby follows him regardless, and he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he certainly isn’t expecting the way John’s walking, each careful step, each full of power and control. Bobby feels like a meek little boy, following his superior, waiting to get punished. Jesus. Bobby’s pretty sure John’s never been able to get such a reaction from him, and he’s pretty sure John’s never been able to get such a reaction from anyone. Where is this coming from?

“Get in.” John’s voice has become a powerful weapon. Where it had once been cocky and petulant, it is now strong and clear, and Bobby gets in the car. The interior, strangely enough yet not, is hot against his skin, and he sinks into the seat as John shuts his door and walks around the car to get in. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he’s not surprised when John gets in, turns the car on, and peels out of the parking lot at break-neck speed. Bobby almost sighs in relief; this side of John is familiar. He can handle this.

He never knew that John knew how to drive a stick-shift, but apparently he does, and he handles it expertly, his hand wrapping itself around the shift, pulling and twisting so fast, so expertly, with such power and control. Bobby swallows a lump in his throat and looks out the window, trying not to look at John’s hand. The trees pass like bullets, they must be going at least seventy. Bobby didn’t expect to feel the rush he’s feeling right now, and he rolls down his window, leaning closer to his, needing release from the heat.

“Getting hot, Drake?” John asks. Bobby looks over at him, and John slightly raises an eyebrow, licks those lips, and fuck. Bobby looks away, and John starts laughing, fucking laughing, like Bobby’s some little kid who can’t handle the mind games John’s just learned how to play. He can feel the anger rising up inside him, all the way up to his throat. He’s pretty sure John’s never been able to make him this angry before, but he’s pretty sure this is nothing new; John always knew everyone’s buttons…he must have never pushed Bobby’s hard enough.

“Fuck off,” Bobby says. No one’s ever been able to show up John with words. He’s not going to start trying.

“Is that an invitation, Drake?” John asks, and Bobby’s head snaps over to him so fast, John starts to laugh heartily. “Didn’t know you swung that way. What happened to The Human Equivalent of Bleach?”

“Don’t talk about her.” “Alright. I get it. Don’t want anything reminding you of them, do you?” John turns his eyes over to him, and fuck, when did John’s eyes get so dark and inviting? “I know what it’s like, man. I know you don’t want to think about it, and it’s eating you up that I got away, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bobby spits out.

John smiles. “I do. And you know it.” John pauses for a moment as he switches gears, then turns back to Bobby. “You’re feeling it, aren’t you? And it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says. He removes his hand from the stick-shift and places it on Bobby’s thigh. It’s blazing hot. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to forget for a few moments what you are, with wanting to not beg for mercy from humans, that your presence will do nothing in the end when it comes to this.” He starts tapping his fingers on Bobby’s thigh. “And it’s true, Drake. In the end, none of this is going to matter. The professor’s noble work isn’t going to matter, the genocide Magneto wants to orchestrate isn’t going to matter. Everyone will end up begging for mercy in the end. None of it will matter. Especially what I’m about to do.”

Suddenly John throws the car into park, and he’s out of his seat, and he’s straddling Bobby, those artist’s hands on his face, and then there’s those lips, so full and actually there, unlike Marie’s, on his. Bobby was never expecting this, never expecting that John would do something like this. He’s in such control, as Bobby presses back, he feels like he’s being devoured, feels like that wicked tongue, wet in his mouth, is actually setting him on fire, feels the heat through his shirt as John palms his chest. He’s never expected this, but he knows he’s going to beg for mercy.

John’s hips have suddenly found a rhythm, and that rhythm is pressing against Bobby. Press in, pull out, press in, and now he’s rubbing himself against Bobby, and fuck. John pulls his lips away, but not completely, and feeling John’s breath, predictably hot, as it caresses his face, and Bobby’s breathing hard, and his hips are quickly catching up to John’s rhythm. John pulls out, Bobby presses in, Bobby pulls out, John presses in harder. Just…so…fuck…so good, and Bobby doesn’t think he’s ever going to be the same.

“Wanted this for so long,” John manages to get out, but his voice isn’t strong anymore, but ragged and low, almost like he’s growling deep within his throat. He reaches over on the seat lever, and Bobby’s flat on his back, and John lays down, lays the length of his body against Bobby’s, and Bobby can feel John’s erection against his own, and as insane as it sounds, it feels powerful against his own, and Bobby can feel the words on the tip of his tongue. He’s about two seconds away from it.

“Fucking yearned for it,” John says, his fingers handling the mechanics of Bobby’s belt just as expertly and quickly as he handled the stick-shift of the car. Bobby certainly wasn’t expecting that he’d be here, his pants around his ankles with John Allerdyce, the turncoat, the traitor, his best friend, on top of him, turning him into a puddle of ice. Literally, he’s burning, John’s body is fucking scorching him, he thinks he’ll have third degree burns all over him. That’s okay. He’s not about to say no.

“John,” Bobby breathes out, exhaling deeply as John pulls his boxers down off his hip, and the absolute feral way that John looks at him, then looks up at Bobby is threatening to be Bobby’s undoing. “What are you-“ he starts to ask but he ends up crying out as his cock is suddenly in John’s mouth, and those pouty lips are wrapped around every inch, and FUCK.

Bobby’s head hits the headrest of his seat, and he knows his eyes are rolling back into his head, but suddenly John’s got a handful of his hair and forcing him to look at him. “Don’t close your eyes, Drake. Look at me,” he demands, his voice harsh yet husky, his eyes wide and demanding and full of pure animalistic lust. He smiles, no teeth showing, and he runs his tongue across his top lip slowly, then his bottom lip. “You’re not going to close your eyes and pretend it’s her. You’re going to keep them open and see it’s me,” he orders.

Then John’s got his mouth on him again, and Bobby’s looking straight at him, watching John’s head bob, and he never expected this, never thought he’d be lying here, watching John go down on him, wanting more of John’s heat not on just his cock, but all over his body. He’d always been a bit apprehensive of John and his fire, always been afraid that John would end up melting him. But maybe he was ready for it now. Maybe he could play with the fire and not cry out as he got burned.

Bobby’s close, and John pulls back, looking down at Bobby’s cock then looking up at him with a smirk. “I'm not like the rest of them, Drake. I'm not going to live up to your expectations,” he says. He comes up and kisses Bobby, and it’s soft, softer than Bobby ever expected, softer than he ever thought John was capable of. It’s a brief kiss, but a full one, and when John pulls back, he cups Bobby’s face, his fingers caressing Bobby’s jaw. “I can do so much more. I’ll give you something they can't, especially Marie,” he says.

“Like what?”

John smiles, but the animal in him is gone, and he’s John again, the small orphan with no parents to protect him and nowhere to go but a school for freaks, the gangly, awkward teenager who still couldn’t sleep in the dark, the kid who read Voltaire like it was going out of style. Bobby never thought he’d see that John again, but now that the real John is sitting in front of him, Bobby thinks that perhaps he needs to re-evaluate his expectations.

“What can you give me, John?” Bobby asks.

“A promise,” John answers. He puts one of his hands over Bobby’s heart, and while his hand is so hot at first that Bobby almost pulls back, his natural body temperature kicks in, and John’s hand isn’t so hot anymore. Bobby looks up from John’s hand, up at John’s face, and John smiles, like he knows what’s just happened. “I promise not to burn you,” he whispers.

Bobby’s eyes close for a moment, and when he opens them, he’s looking straight into John’s eyes. So dark, so open, so powerful, and Bobby knows he shouldn’t give in, knows that everyone’s expecting him back in an hour, knows that Marie’s waiting for him. “All you have to do is say the word,” he hears John say. He looks down at the hand on his heart, and when he looks up at John, he simply smiles, and the word comes out so clear, so strongly.

“Please.”


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