Waiting
It was his mouth that I always remembered.
The gentle, plump curve of it. The ever-present quirk at the corner, as if ready with a one-liner or two. The shy, sleek pink of his tongue which peeked out when nervous. The slight jut of the pouty bottom lip that betrayed the teenager that he actually was.
A fuckin' kid, for Christ's sake!
That was why I stayed away. There may have been jagged holes in my memory but I knew I wasn't a pedophile. Or a rapist.
But I still was no saint. Nowhere in the friggin' neighborhood, in fact. But if I had any doubts about it, they disappeared one night months ago.
All it took was a bottled drink, icy breath and the slow pursing of his lips.
Even for just that moment, I could sense several things all at once... my cock pressing hard against my jeans at the sight before me...Marie's and John's scents surrounding him like perfume...the bitter tang of frustration mixed with his own brand of horny teenager...the almost-silent hitch of his breath as he felt the air around us grow heavy with tension...the rapid flutter of panic in his veins...the sudden, bright flare of arousal.
It took all my control (which really wasn't really much to start with) and a full-out assault on the mansion to stop myself from marking him, from claiming that mouth.
But it wasn't the time or place. Had kids to defend, the Professor and Scott to save, assholes to hunt down and kill. So I let it be.
As it turned out, we all had a lot to deal with in the following months: Jean's death, the rising anti-mutant sentiment, Magneto...And various little things too many to count or remember. But one thing I could never forget was that mouth of his.
How it would flash even, white teeth as he joked around with the others. How it would sweep up into a smile as he saw Marie. How it would deflate at any mention of John. How it would tremble faintly in my presence.
I had no illusions about what was happening. This wasn't about love. That fantasy got buried underneath a fuckin' avalanche. This was about lust. About sex, plain and simple. Someone to hold onto at night, to erase the loneliness that hounded me even for a little while. Some body to grind and fuck into the mattress, until the dreams, the fear faded away.
As for the boy... I guess, it was all about his overwhelming need to touch and be touched. With Marie frustratingly off-limits and now with John gone, he was desperate enough to seek out any form of release. Driving him toward something or someplace dark, unsure and definitely dangerous.
Me.
Even now, the beast within me snarls in impatience. It's been 2 weeks since his 18th birthday. Another barrier has fallen -- he's now legal. An adult who can do anything he wants.
Whom I can do anything with.
But I do nothing. Except watch that pretty, little mouth.
As he dances around the issue. Thrilling at the danger. Flirting with all the possibilities. Coming closer and closer to the edge. He wants it so bad. But he's scared. He's still not ready to let himself go and fall into the abyss.
Sooner or later, he will.
And I will be there. Waiting.