Kirsten (kirstenlouise) wrote,
Kirsten
kirstenlouise

#517 - [FIC] Seven Year Itch (Alex/Various)

Title: Seven Year Itch
Word Count: 10,400 words of irredeemable filth
Pairing: Alex/Charles, Alex/Darwin, Alex/Erik, Alex/Hank, Alex/Sean, allusions to Alex/OMCs
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alex has tried a hundred different things over the years, but nothing makes the tension go away like being fucked does. His body knows what it needs, even if Alex doesn't agree.
Warnings: fuck-or-die related dub-con, mild internalized homophobia, toys, barebacking, Erik being kind of a freak
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: Originally posted here. Minor edits have been made.


They've been dancing around it all night, him and Darwin. The guy's bumped his shoulder half a dozen times and every time it gets even a little loud, he leans in close like he's telling a secret. In a way, he is. It's not like he can come right out and say ‘Hey, I'm a big, old queer’ without risking a whole lot of negative attention.

Even if he can read Alex, Darwin's too smart to throw it all on the line because he's got a hunch. Alex doesn't blame him. They might be sitting in a room full of mutants right now, but there's nothing about present company that guarantees they wouldn't all flip their shit over a couple of homos just like everyone else, so they work with what they have.

It's good, the kind of flirting Darwin does, where he makes his hand on Alex's knee look like nothing but something he picked up in the ten years he's been driving a cab, like he's used to the small space and touching Alex doesn't mean anything more than brushing up against the furniture. They're a blip on the radar, part of the scenery that's not even remarkable enough to stick out.

Alex wonders if it's anything to do with Darwin's mutation, but it's a dumb idea. Darwin is just good at making people see what they want to see.

At this point, he's just hoping no one can tell how on-edge he is. Noticing would mean having to explain and Alex doesn't think he knows anyone in this room well enough to explain something he hasn't come to terms with yet. But he can feel it. He can always tell when he's close to getting out of control. It builds up in his chest like the crackle of static electricity. It pricks the hair on his arms and the back of his neck and pulls his dick up like it's a fucking magnet.

He knows it's only a matter of time before whatever that is in his chest cocks back and starts blasting, just like he knows there's only one way to fix it.

"Alex, hey. Alex."

And there's Darwin again, hand on the back of his neck, mouth a millimeter away from his ear making Alex's fists ball up so tight his nails draw blood.

"You okay, man? You look like you're about to punch a hole in something. What's gotten into you?"

Alex shrugs him off. "It's nothing."

"Bullshit."

"You don't fucking know me," Alex says. "Don't act like you're an expert."

Only, he's pretty sure Darwin's got him down pat, the motherfucker. He can see it. It's like reading himself in reverse, right there in Darwin's eyes. It's unsettling. Alex moves over to the pinball machine out of self-defense, but of course Darwin follows. He's there a minute later and Alex is already racking up serious points---because what the fuck else was he supposed to do in prison?---just to try and distract himself from the way his dick keeps trying to tug him around, right back to Darwin.

It's not that he doesn't want to get fucked. He needs it, if only to stop the electric storm building up behind his ribcage. But sometimes he's wrong about this stuff and when he's wrong, people get hurt.

"If you have a problem with me or something, just come out with it."

"Darwin, man, it's not like that, all right?"

"You know, if I had a nickel for every white guy who's said---"

Alex whirls and grabs him by the collar and it's a fucking miracle he doesn't blast through Darwin right then, because everything is so jumbled up in his head, he isn't certain whether he wants to throw a punch or throw his whole body into a kiss. Fuck it---maybe he wants both. His blood is so hot right now, pumping through him a hundred miles an hour, Alex is getting dizzy.

Darwin looks a little confused and a little pissed as Alex lets him go with a gruff, "Sorry."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, Alex. Just trying to figure you out."

"Yeah, well, join the fucking club."

They both laugh and even if it isn't as good as an actual joke, it does a lot to clear the air. Alex is still feeling like his stomach is bottoming out and all his internal organs are packed in too tight for him to breathe, but he's spent two hours with other living, breathing people without throwing a single punch or getting his knees kicked out from under him, and that's something to be proud of. Alex is proud of it, anyway.

"So, I heard you did hard time."

"Who told you that?"

"Erik."

"What a dick," Alex mutters.

There's a reason he doesn't lead with 'Hi, my name's Alex. I'm an ex-con', and Erik of all people should understand that. Darwin's not looking at him like he wants to feel superior or anything, which is promising. The last thing he needs is a lecture. Not that Darwin seems the type to hand them out, infrequently or otherwise. The look on his face is all curiosity, and Alex can't really fault him for that.

"I don't have any prison tats, if that's what you're wondering."

Darwin throws his head back and laughs. "No, you don't seem the type."

"I'm not telling you what I was in for," Alex says. "Just so we're clear."

He can talk about solitary and about being scared shitless of going out into the yard for the first two years, until he built up enough muscle to stop looking like an easy piece of ass. He'd tell Darwin all about it, because he's probably met enough people not to be shocked by that kind of shit. But the story of how he got locked up at fifteen isn't one Alex is ready to share.

He doesn't think he could even concentrate enough to tell it, even if he wanted to. Darwin's standing so close, his hand on Alex's back like it belongs there. And fuck if he doesn't like being touched like this, especially with his powers going haywire.

"You seem tense," Darwin says.

"Game's kicking my ass."

Alex is pressing a hard-on up against the front of the pinball machine, so really, it's no wonder that he's losing. He's a loser, in every sense of the word. Darwin has ten years on him and more cool than Alex thinks he'll ever possess and standing next to this guy, who's not even a little ashamed of who and what he is, Alex feels worthless.

Worthless and desperately in need of a good fucking. He's sweating like a pig under his leather jacket and when Darwin palms his stomach over his white t-shirt, hand warm and curved and thick-fingered, something inside him just snaps.

"Bathroom," he grits out. "Five minutes."

Darwin doesn't even bat an eye, just takes over the pinball machine like that's what he was waiting there for the whole time. Alex’s palms are so sweaty, they slip on the doorknob for almost a full minute before he can actually get the goddamn thing open and then he just collapses on the toilet, head in his hands groaning because what the fuck was that.

The wait is only five minutes long and it's worse than the five years Alex spent in solitary. He doesn't know whether to make a run for it or cry tears of joy when Darwin slips inside and locks the door behind them. His body's pulling him in a dozen different directions with what it wants.

"Fuck, man. For a second there, I thought you weren't coming."

Darwin shrugs. "Had to wait until the coast was clear, didn't I?"

"They'll probably know anyway."

"Nah," he says. "If they didn't pick up how hard I've been hitting on you, they're not going to think anything of this."

Alex doesn't know about that. Fucking is a pretty hard sound to miss, even for the selectively deaf. But he does his best not to think about it anyway, because he needs this. He needs Darwin to take care of him and if he's honest with himself, he knows he doesn't really give two fucks whether they know or not. What can they do about it? Snitch on him? They can't prove shit.

Darwin leans back against the tiles, one foot propped up behind him, and lights a smoke. "Want one?"

"I don't smoke," he says. "Are we doing this or not?"

Darwin tilts his head and blows smoke out his nostrils. "What's 'this,' exactly?"

"Don't fucking play stupid with me."

"Relax, man," Darwin says, laughing again. Alex would be angrier if he didn't like that sound so much. "I'm just getting a feel for you."

"Well knock it the fuck off," Alex snarls. He’s about ready to shake apart. "Either get your dick in me or get the fuck out, Darwin. I don't have time for this shit."

Darwin licks his lips and grins before grinding his cigarette out in the sink. "All right, all right. Come here."

It's not Alex's fault that he practically launches himself into Darwin's hold. It's this fucking mutation messing with him that makes him pull up flush against someone he just met and kiss him with all the desperation of a drowning man in need of oxygen. Things like this have been happening since his power first manifested at thirteen, which was a fuck of a lot more awkward than this.

At thirteen, he hadn’t even known what was going on, but he’d burned the house down because of it. The feeling had made a little more sense after he’d gotten laid the first time. It didn't make him any happier, but at least he knew what it meant.

Kissing Darwin barely scratches the itch. If anything, that thin layer of relief only makes the rest of the ache hotter by comparison and Alex is too clumsy-fingered to even get his own pants down. The closer he gets to the goal, the worse it gets, which is fucked, but he supposes it makes a sort of twisted sense. It has to get worse before it gets better.

"Hey," Darwin says, mouth warm on his neck. "Alex, tell me what you need."

"Fuck me," he says, almost before Darwin finishes.

He hates himself for it a little, because the least he can do if he's going to be a faggot is to at least be a little butch about it, but Alex knows what it takes to keep from turning the world into a pile of ash.

"Need you to fuck me now."

It seems like an eternity before his jeans are on the floor and Darwin's are down around his knees. Alex stares at his cock and he's probably licking his lips, but he's too far gone to really give a fuck. There's a tickle in the back of his throat, a voice in his head telling him to taste it, but those are just things he wants to do. He needs to get fucked and that takes priority.

But he has to laugh at the idea that Darwin is going to be able to actually lift him and fuck him. There are sink counters for that kind of thing, but the guy actually seems determined to fuck him right into the bathroom wall. He catches Alex's eye and smiles and just like that, Alex can see his arms bulking up right along with his chest. It's sort of weird. Okay, it's really weird, but at the same time sort of hot, seeing that it means he's going to get fucked harder than he ever has in his life.

At least, that's what Darwin's eyes, dark and smoky, seem to promise.

Darwin works two spit-slick fingers into him, quick and dirty just to make sure he can take them---if Alex has to wait any longer, he'll take Darwin dry and worry about how sore he'll be later---and then he's being hoisted up against the tile like he weighs nothing and there's the blunt head of a dick pressed to his ass and Alex feels like he's died and gone to heaven.

He doesn't even bother to hold back the first growl that tears out of his chest, long and hungry, because he's been starving for this. He wants Darwin to know just how this is making him feel. And yeah, he's still a little bothered because Darwin has a hand on the middle of his chest holding him against the wall and Alex is still trying to fuck himself down on his cock, but it feels too good to tell Darwin to knock it off.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, when Darwin pulls almost all the way out, quick, and fills him back up slow and hard. "Fuck, Darwin, oh god, fuck me."

It's good, but it's not enough. Darwin is still acting like he's going to hurt him and Alex hates that.

"Come on," he says, "Don't be such a fucking pussy, man. Fuck me like you mean it."

There's a glint in Darwin's eyes and then he's pounding into Alex so hard he thinks he can feel the bathroom walls shaking. His head smacks the tile just once and there's black and red bleeding into his vision, but he doesn't care. Darwin fucks the air out of his lungs, all his moans catching in his throat, and it's perfect. It's exactly what he needs and from the way Darwin is grunting and groaning and biting at his neck, it's what he needs, too.

Alex's climax rips out of him without so much as a hand on his dick, so sudden and violent he's sure what he's feeling is a plasma blast, not an orgasm, but after a while he comes back down and opens his eyes. Everything is fine. They slide to the floor together, Darwin's arms shrinking back to normal size and his cock softening until it slips out of Alex, trailing sticky strings of come from his ass.

He feels so fucked-out, it's amazing. Alex reaches for Darwin impulsively and kisses him again, tasting blood that's probably his fault---he bites down when he comes, sometimes---and not caring. He licks at Darwin's teeth and sucks at his tongue as they lie there on the bathroom floor wrapped up in each other, sated and sweaty and perfect.

"Thanks," Alex says, after a while. "I needed that."

Darwin smiles. "I could tell."

It's hard to get up off the floor again. Not just because his knees are jelly, either. It's hard because out there, they'll have to pretend that nothing happened and make their excuses for the fifteen minutes they've been gone. And some of them will know, but they won't say anything because it would be even worse to acknowledge it.

Alex would rather stay here with his bare ass on cold tile and have Darwin kiss him like he means everything in the world to him. He’s sure they reek of sex when they finally walk back out and rejoin the group, but no one asks, so he doesn’t tell.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The fact that he still smells like Darwin, sweat and come and even the soap he uses, makes it harder to accept the fact that he's gone because that piece of him, no matter how small, is still with Alex. He can't even bring himself to shower until Erik drags him into the bathroom and makes him stay there under the hot spray until he feels almost human again.

He doesn't feel whole---he doesn't know if he'll ever feel like that again---but it's something.

Erik holds out a towel for him after, like Alex is a little kid stepping out of a bath, and dries him off. He'd never let it happen otherwise, but all those lines of electricity are lighting up again and when that happens, Alex lets a lot of things happen that he wouldn't normally appreciate. It seems a little crass, even now, to be thinking about fucking Erik when Darwin is dead, but the guilt isn't as strong as the desire.

Alex has lost people before. Unless you want to die with them, you have to move on.

Everyone else is training, but Alex has been given temporary leave. Erik is either in the same boat or he's skipping out and Charles is too indulgent to call him out on it. Both seem about as likely. Either way, Alex ends up in Erik's room without any of his clothes and compared to that, how he got there doesn't really matter. Erik looks him over like he's appraising a painting or a piece of fine furniture, his gaze serious and purely professional.

Alex is sure he's got hot blood in there somewhere, but he isn't seeing much of it at the moment. It's okay, though. He’s content enough to sit on the bed and let Erik look at him as long as he wants. Erik is just the sort of man Alex would choose to help him get over something like this---he's attractive, he's physical, and he's too cold to get attached or to get attached to; the kind of guy Alex can fuck and never speak to again.

"Charles told me about your little...problem," Erik says at last.

"And you decided to rush to my aid, huh?"

His smile is thin. "Frankly, I don't care whether you accept my help or refuse it, but I don’t have time to play games with spoiled children."

Alex doesn't care about Charles telling Erik---he only told Charles so he'd let it slip to everyone else and maybe help him get the relief he needs---but he’s torn between thanking Erik and telling him to go fuck himself.

Maybe this time will fix it, but Alex doubts it. He'll probably be craving again by dinner. Maybe by then they'll have come up with straws or a chore-wheel or some shit to decide who gets to try to break him apart and put him back together again next. Alex doesn't give a fuck. He just doesn't want to have to ask for it. Darwin was different. Darwin wanted it as much as he did. If it hadn't been his mutation, he would have come up with another excuse or Darwin would have made the first big move and Alex would have fucked him anyway.

"Make a decision," Erik says, mildly, "or I will make it for you."

"I'll take whatever you're offering," Alex says.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to take them back, because Erik’s mouth turns up in this terrible smile that might look charming if you didn't know him but only makes Alex feel like he's hiding in the prison linen closet again so they won't make him go out in the yard where he'll be easy prey. Erik looks ready to pick him off, tear into his bones, lick the blood from his fingers and smile while he does it.

He likes watching Erik watch him, as much as he makes Alex want to shrink up in terror. He's straining the muscles in his thighs just trying to hold them together, they want to peel apart so bad. Every muscle in him is tensed and ready to melt under Erik in preparation for being fucked.

When it happens, Erik doesn't even ask him, just grabs him by his shoulders and manhandles him onto his hands and knees, pushing apart his thighs with big, hot hands and telling him, "Stay," like he's a dog or something. Alex half-expects him to come back with something weird like a metal dildo or handcuffs or a ball gag, but there's nothing in his hands but a little bottle of lube.

"I don't much enjoy it dry," he says, by way of explanation, just to drive home the point that he couldn't give two fucks about whether Alex enjoys this or not. "Did you need some sort of preparation?"

"No."

Erik gives a low, rumbling chuckle. "Splendid."

Because you weren't getting any anyway, that laugh seems to say.

Alex doesn't care. He's shifting impatiently on all fours, trying desperately not to rock his hips back into air with the hopes of hitting the right spot and fucking himself back onto Erik's dick. It hurts somehow that the ache is worse this time than it was with Darwin, but it's nothing Alex can control. It's not a reflection of anything emotional. He doesn't know what it is or how his stupid fucking mutation chooses partners, but what Alex wants has nothing to do with it.

Erik slides in slow and smooth and fully clothed and Alex nearly comes on the spot at the rasp of Erik’s khakis on the backs of his thighs. His dick feels as long and slender as the rest of him, but it fills Alex up perfectly. Erik's hands dig into his hips like they were meant to be there and then they're off. He's brutal from the beginning, his balls slapping obscenely against Alex's ass with every thrust, hips moving so fast they must be a blur back there.

"Do you like that?" he asks. "You like that, you little whore?"

Alex just moans, sure he’s fire-engine red from the embarrassment.

It hurts, but it's a good hurt. The pain fills him up and swells inside him the same way the pleasure does, melting into him and calming the electrical interference making a mess inside of him. Every thrust shoves him forward a little on the bed and soon Alex is in place to grip the headboard, just to stay in one place before Erik fucks him right through the wall.

Erik grabs a handful of his hair in one fist and jerks his head back. "Tell me how it feels, boy."

"G-good," he pants, even though there are tears stinging his eyes from the pain of his scalp. "Feels good."

"This is all you're good for," Erik says.

Alex doesn't think he's ever felt so naked as he does with his throat exposed, knowing any moment that Erik might sink his teeth into it.

"You're a slut. You're good for nothing but fucking. Say it."

Alex doesn't want to say it but whatever makes him crazy like this does. It's coming out of his mouth in pantomime of Erik before he can figure out how to hold it back.

Erik licks a line down his cheek. "Good boy. You do what you're told."

He doesn't think it can get any rougher when his ass is already raw the way Erik has been fucking him so carelessly, but then he picks up the pace and Alex can't help the hot tears that spill down his cheeks. Erik fucks him until he's sobbing, his weight on Alex's back pinning him down and his voice like velvet in Alex's ears.

"You're so good for me, Alex," he croons. "That's it. You can take it, can't you?"

And he can. He takes it all through the huge, hiccupping sobs that make him shake until his eyes dry up and his cheeks feel puffy and his throat is too raw to make any noise at all. Erik fucks it all out of him and reaches around to jerk his dick, still half-hard. It only takes a few strokes before Alex is hard again. He can't even rock into Erik's hand, he's too boneless, but he tries anyway, hips moving jerkily like he has no control over them.

Alex can't even feel his legs by the time Erik bites into his shoulder to muffle his own climax, hard enough to make blood well up where his teeth marks are. After, Alex looks in the mirror and finds it's not the only mark Erik left. He's covered in hickeys, bruised from his neck all the way down to his hips, striped with the marks left by Erik's fingers. He’s pretty sure he’s fucked a bundle of issues and not a man at all, but there’s relief as Erik does up his zip and leaves him there curled up on the bed, fucked to the point of exhaustion.

It’s only the calm before the storm, but Alex manages to sleep until Charles calls him down to dinner.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"What happened to you, man?" Sean asks, eyes wide, when they're all seated down to dinner.

Alex flicks up the collar of his jacket. "Mind your own fucking business, Cassidy."

Hank stares uncomfortably down at a plate of spaghetti and it just figures that he'd pick up on it and Sean wouldn't have a goddamn clue. He's such a virgin it hurts Alex to look at him. He remembers what it was like getting trained up and figuring this shit out. There's no fucking way he'd want to do it for anyone else. What a pain in the ass. Whoever had dealt with him deserved to be canonized.

Dinner is a tense affair, full of awkward silences that Raven and Charles valiantly try to cover while the rest of them pick at their food and wish so hard to be excused that there might as well be a giant speech bubble floating over the table to that effect. Erik looks at him from time to time, expression unreadable. Whatever it is, it makes Alex wish the earth would swallow him up. It's over. Erik shouldn't be looking at him like that. There are rules.

Even if those rules are only in his own mind.

After what seems like an eternity, Charles finally takes pity on everyone and excuses them for bed.

"Alex, could you help me with the washing up?"

"Yeah, sure."

He can feel four sets of eyes burning into his back as he goes to the sink to help Charles, but it doesn't matter. So everyone knows. Everyone knows Charles is fucking him next and in a way it sort of takes off the pressure. Anyway, it’s kind of nice helping Charles in the kitchen. He washes and Alex dries, methodically. They settle into a comfortable rhythm and there's no need to talk. The clink of the dishes and the swirl of the water do it for them.

Besides, there’s not much need for talk when Alex is pretty sure Charles is rummaging around in his head. If he wasn't trying to pick up on something, Alex is sure he wouldn't know the difference, but he notices the slight tingling at his temples when Charles starts. It goes as quickly as it comes. From there, it's all calm, but now he knows what it feels like.

He dries the last of the plates and leans back against the counter, waiting for Charles to say something. Anything.

As it happens, Charles doesn't say anything at all. He walks up, slow like he’s afraid Alex might start or kick like a frightened horse, and kisses Alex on the mouth. The kiss is completely chaste, no tongue, not even the slightest hint of an open mouth. Charles is probably afraid that if he tries any of that, he'll scare Alex away. It's kind of cute, honestly, because Alex has at least three inches on him and Charles has to stand halfway on his toes to be able to kiss him at all, which is about as unthreatening as it gets.

When Charles pulls back, he looks worried. "You're certain this is all right?"

"Yeah," he says. His throat feels like sandpaper. "It's fine. Good. It's good. Here."

Alex pulls him back in, as much to stop the fireworks going off in his chest as to get Charles to stop looking at him like that. It's fine. He's done it a million times before, with dozens of different men who didn't care about him half as much as Charles probably does. Truth be told, he's had a thing for Charles since the beginning. Nothing serious, but Alex is pretty sure that it's virtually impossible not to have a thing for Charles. There's just something about him that's so friendly and open and easy to latch onto.

They stand there in the kitchen and Charles feels him out with his hands and his mouth, so gentle it makes Alex's stomach do somersaults. Part of him wishes Charles would knock it off, but mostly he's just thinking about what it's going to be like when Charles finally has him naked. Charles would let him choose, but Alex is thinking his natural inclination is going to be to lay him on his back. He's not sure how he feels about that, but Charles seems kind of romantic, like he'd be into lovemaking and shit and he'll probably try it all out on Alex even though this doesn't really warrant all that tenderness.

Charles sighs against his neck, suddenly. "Oh, Alex."

It's not that he doesn't know Charles is reading him, but it hits him as a surprise anyway. He swallows and just looks at Charles, who shakes his head.

"You're worth much more than what I can offer you."

He almost believes it before the discomfort sets in.

"Look, you don’t need to say anything like that. Let’s just…it’s getting really bad," Alex finishes. "Do you think we could---?"

Charles smiles, all self-deprecating charm. "Your room or mine?"

They end up in Alex's room, which is as far away from Erik's as it's possible to be without being on the ground floor where there are no bedrooms. It's not that he's going to carry the experience on his shoulders like fucking trauma, but Alex doesn't need the humiliation of seeing Erik, or Erik seeing him with Charles, right now. It's bad enough that everyone knows, but Alex doesn't want to have to watch anyone pretending not to see what's going on right in front of them.

Charles doesn't handle him like Erik or Darwin or anyone else Alex has ever been with. He hates being treated like he'll break when he knows he won't, but there's a lot he's willing to put up with to keep everything from falling apart in his hands, even if there's this voice in his head that's telling him, deadpan, that under any other circumstances, he'd be the one fucking Charles.

Those aren't the circumstances he's been dealt, though, so he tells that voice to shut the fuck up.

"Another time, perhaps," Charles says, eyes bright with good humor. "We'll raincheck on it."

"Good deal."

"You don't have to wait for me to figure it out on my own, you know," Charles says, slicking his fingers up with the lotion Alex keeps in the nightstand. "You can talk to me, Alex, about whatever’s on your mind."

The thing is, he’d rather not if Charles is going to spend the evening lounging around in his head anyway. It should probably annoy him that Charles is as patronizing in bed as he is out of it, but it doesn’t. Not really. There's something about being patronized by Charles that makes it more okay than when anyone else does it. Charles, he's harmless. He always means well. It's impossible for him to be anything other than what he is, so Alex doesn't fault him for it.

He's a good kisser---Alex has to give him that. Charles barely breaks contact with him the whole time he's getting them undressed, like he knows that it's worse when Alex can't be close to someone. The calm washes over him in great, cresting waves with every kiss and when Charles is finally lying between his open thighs, Alex thinks he could melt back into the sheets and stay there forever.

Third time’s a charm, he thinks. He can hope, anyway.

Charles stretches him gently around two fingers and then three, even though they both know he doesn't need it. He’s still leaking Erik’s come, which can’t be pleasant for Charles, but it’s kind of nice anyway. Alex thinks all kinds of stupid shit about how nice Charles' hands are and how he wants to be fucked on Charles fingers for hours before he's allowed to come. Not this time, but some hypothetical time in his head when his powers aren't trying to kill him and everyone else he knows.

"Has your mutation always had this effect on you?"

"Yeah," Alex says. "Doesn't happen often, but it's been happening for a while."

"And this time," Charles asks, his fingers finally withdrawing. "Is it worse than most times?"

Alex doesn't want to answer that, but he nods anyway. It's not the worst it's ever been, but it's close. Definitely top three material. He doesn't know what factors are responsible for the wobble on the severity of the need, but he thinks stress might be one of them. Being a jailbird one minute and a free man the next should have made him feel good, but it's still doing a number on him. He isn't used to all this space or all these people or having so much time on his hands that hasn't been tabled out for him beforehand.

Charles feels good settled on top of him, the perfect balance between not enough and too much. Alex kisses him and lets Charles coax his mouth open as he slips his hands under Alex's knees to bring his legs up around his waist. All the skin-on-skin contact, the two of them tacky with sweat already, pulls Alex so taut he thinks he's going to snap like a guitar string someone wound too tight. Charles is hard against his hip, thick and uncircumcised, making Alex sticky and making him squirm with impatience.

Charles' hands stroke down the insides of his thighs, holding them gently apart so he can kneel between them. "All right there?"

"I'm fucking peachy, okay?" Alex snaps. "Jesus. Quit asking me if I'm all right when you know the answer already."

That calm from before is gone now and Alex is as wound up as he ever is. He knows it's not right to lash out at Charles, but he's so conveniently there, Alex can't help himself. As soon as the anger fades, there’s guilt taking its place. It’s just the edge talking.

"God, don’t even listen to the shit that comes out of my mouth," he mutters, embarrassed.

"You can't take much more of this, can you?"

"Not unless you want to see this place up in flames."

Charles covers Alex's mouth with his own as he pushes inside and it's all he can do not to throw back his head and howl. He's sore from Erik, but Alex doesn't think he'd ever be sore enough for this not to feel good, and Charles feels like he knows exactly what he's doing. There's a place for quick and dirty and although Alex feels like a girl wanting it, he knows there's a place for slow and deep like this, too.

"Calm yourself," Charles murmurs. "Relax and let me look after you."

That's just the thing about Charles---he wants to take care of everyone. For once, Alex isn't inclined to make a fuss. He relaxes into it and hooks his ankles together around Charles' back to keep him close enough to rub his dick against the slightly furry plane of Charles' stomach. He doesn't need it to come, but it's nice and Charles doesn't object, so Alex keeps doing it. He's soft there like he is everywhere else, with just a little extra flesh on him from years of enough food and too much pampering.

Alex doesn't really care about anything but how good Charles feels under his hands, but the thoughts speed across the forefront of his mind anyway. The harder he tries to suppress them so Charles won't hear, the louder they seem to broadcast. And it's still a little strange---

"I'm hardly so short it's that noteworthy," Charles objects, primly, and Alex laughs into his shoulder.

"No, you're okay," he says. "It's good, I like it. I like you."

Charles just smiles and kisses his forehead as he moves inside Alex, slow and even. Alex feels Charles settle down in his mind like the warm touch of a hand on his forehead and relaxes immediately. Charles doesn't say anything, just stays there, and it feels intimate and warm and... well, nice. Alex doesn't mind opening up for him when they're like this and he's already exposed, only he doesn't feel that way at all. Charles doesn't make him feel naked even though he is. Charles doesn't make him feel vulnerable even though that's how Alex has gotten used to feeling.

If they're not making love, it's a fucking fine line. Alex doesn't know what to think about that, so he resolves not to think anything at all until he can make more sense of it. There's a jerk low in his belly when Charles pulls out and lies next to him, stroking his chest and kissing his shoulder.

"Would you like me to stay tonight?"

"Sure," Alex says. He's never had anyone stay after. "That sounds good."

They wind up spooned together, Charles at his back even though he's shorter. Alex doesn't want to have a nightmare and blow a hole in him by mistake. It's not like he's talking from experience---it's just a fear he has and Alex wants it to stay that way. He doesn't ever want to know what that looks like.

"Will you be able to sleep tonight?"

"I don't know."

"I could take care if it, if you like," Charles says, voice low and soothing. "There won't be any nightmares, Alex."

"Okay."

The pass of Charles' hand over his brow is the last thing Alex remembers before his eyes are slipping closed. Charles is a man of his word. There are no nightmares. There are no dreams at all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alex misses breakfast the next morning to shower and pace holes in the carpet of his bedroom. The itch still hasn't gone away. It's better than it was before, but he still feels too close to barreling over the edge into something he can't control and that feeling never means anything good. He spends half the day in his room, jerking off out of sheer fucking spite. It won't help; it never has, but Alex can't decide whether he should bother Hank, who hates him, Sean, who probably couldn't fuck his way out of a wet paper bag, or Charles, who would at least buy him some time.

Alex digs a quarter out of his pocket. Flipping a coin to decide who he'll talk into fucking him next isn't any stupider than anything else he's done so far, so what the hell. Heads, he goes to Hank. Tails, he goes to Sean. He flips the coin, catches it in his palm, and hopes that Hank, if he doesn't have any experience, has at least read enough anatomy textbooks to have a vague idea of what goes where.

He's working in the lab when Alex comes in, unannounced. "Hey, bozo."

Hank promptly drops the beaker he's holding and for a minute, Alex almost feels bad.

"You startled me," Hank says, unnecessarily.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You got a minute?"

"I have a lot of research to finish." He's red in the face and Alex has barely said anything to him. "Now isn't a very good time."

Alex leans up against the lab bench. "When would be a better time?"

"A week or two?"

Alex hasn't got a week or two and he doesn't have time for Hank's pussyfooting bullshit, either. "Come on, I know Charles talked to you."

Hank takes a seat on the stool across from him and sighs. "Yes, he did. He didn't seem to know very well what was going on with you, but I got the gist of it."

"You know what it is?"

"Whatever it is, it's idiosyncratic to you," Hank says. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I don't have a magic bullet for you, if that's what you're here for. The way you've been dealing with it is very likely the only way to deal with it. I imagine you’ve tried a number of alternative approaches with little success."

Alex has tried a hundred different things over the years and while some things---fighting, drinking himself into a blackout---take the edge off for a while, none of it makes the tension go away like being fucked does. His body knows what it needs, even if Alex doesn't agree.

"I suppose you want me to, ah," Hank breaks off and licks his lips, "you know."

"Yeah, bigfoot. Why the hell else would I be here?"

"You don't have to be so hostile to the people who are trying to help you, Alex."

He doesn't have to, but he does it anyway, because it's the only way he can cope with all of this bullshit. Alex is sure Hank is a great guy when you get to know him, but that doesn't mean he likes the way being around Hank makes his whole situation seem that much more dismal. Out of Harvard at fifteen, designer of fighter jets and giant fucking mind-melding machines, and maybe he has freak feet, but Raven is head over heels for him and that makes up for it.

Alex has nothing to show for the last five years except maybe a GED.

"Well? You gonna do it or what?"

Hank laughs nervously. "To be honest with you, I'm worried about surviving this encounter intact."

"I don't bite."

"No," Hank deadpans, "you only shoot plasma beams from your chest."

"Guess you better not fuck me on my back, then, huh?"

Hank stands and shakes his head. "I'm not getting into this with you, Alex. I'm sorry."

"Wait, come on," Alex says, grabbing him by the sleeve of his lab-coat and dropping onto the stool Hank just vacated. "Look, I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't even ask you if I didn't absolutely have to. I know you hate me---"

"I don't hate you," Hank says. He looks even more confused than he sounds. "What gave you that impression?"

"Nothing," Alex says. "Nothing. It's just been a shitty week, that's all. I've been saying a lot of things I don't mean."

That earns him a sympathetic smile and Alex reflects that Hank actually looks pretty nice when he smiles. Alex pulls him in by the lapels of his lab-coat and just curls his arms around Hank's waist with his head buried in Hank's chest. He smells like the rest of the lab, a little like chemicals and a little like disinfectant, but underneath it he's warm cotton and clean sweat.

A tentative hand threads through his hair, stroking the back of his neck. "It's all right," Hank says. "Everything will be okay."

Alex doesn't know if it's true and honestly, he doesn't really care, but he needs to hear it. The statement cools the rage threatening to make him blast everything into a billion tiny pieces. He opens his eyes and shifts a little against Hank's chest. Looking down, he can see Hank's pants tenting out at the crotch. That tickle in his throat is back again, making Alex's mouth water. This far along, he figures it's safe enough to listen to it and just give in. Otherwise he's going to grind his teeth to powder thinking about how much he wants something to suck on.

"Alex?"

"Shhhh," he says, as he does away with Hank's belt buckle and reaches in for him. "Just let me do this for a little while."

He sucks Hank down right away, relishing the stretch of his lips around the shaft and the musky taste of his skin. He teeters like his knees are crumpling under him, but Alex has a hold enough on him to keep him upright as he hunches over on his lab stool to blow Hank. The sounds that are coming out of his mouth are sharp and indecent and delicious. Alex sucks it all out of him, taking him to the root and letting Hank rock a little down his throat. Even when he gags, it feels so good to have his mouth full again. The taste of it, the feel of Hank's dick against his tongue. Alex wants to stay down here forever.

Hank gets a little bolder as they go, tugging a little at Alex's hair to get him to bob faster. He takes it like he takes everything else, grateful for the fact that Hank is giving him anything at all. He gets lost in it, listening to the wet slurping sounds his own mouth makes and every new sound that comes out of Hank's mouth.

Alex likes giving head, even though he can't ever separate it from prison. He learned to give head there, to inmates and guards and anyone else he wanted something from. It should make him sick now, but it doesn't. It's the one good thing he takes away, because no matter how bad things got, this always calmed him right down. Alex feels fucking serene with a dick in his mouth. There's not a lot that he's good at, but this is one of those things.

He doesn't mean to make Hank come, but Alex can’t bring himself to get too bent out of shape over it when he does. He swallows, licks Hank clean, and tucks him away before he wipes his mouth off with the back of a hand.

"I hope you have a short refractory period," Alex says, "because I need more than that."

"Does it have to be a person?"

"Hank, if you're talking about weird shit---"

"No, no, I...maybe it would be easier to show you and let you decide. I'll be back in a minute."

Alex leans back to wait for him. He's hard as a rock and the energy in his chest is swirling like sucking Hank off has only whetted its appetite. If he doesn't get over this rocky patch soon, this thing is going to kill him from sheer fucking exhaustion. It's been three days of fucking and Alex has a feeling he’s going to spend a week in bed sleeping it off when he’s finally ridden out the last of it.

He must have dozed off waiting for Hank, because the next thing Alex knows, Hank is shaking him awake.

"I'm sorry for taking so long," he says, but Alex is hardly listening.

He's a lot more captivated by the fact that Hank is holding a big, blue dick in his hand.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a, uh, well---it's a sex toy," Hank says, flushing. "I designed it myself. See, I motorized it, so you can turn this dial here---" he twists the base and the thing springs to life in his hands with a low buzz "---and make it vibrate."

Alex is almost speechless. "This is what you do in your spare time?"

"It's only a prototype," Hank says, ignoring him. "But I've been meaning to, uh, test it out. It should work as well for you as the real thing."

"What is it---plastic?"

"Silicone, actually. It feels more like real skin."

"Why is it blue?"

"Oh, um, it’s my favorite color," Hank says, like it makes any sense at all.

Alex reaches out to touch it and Hank is right. It feels just like the real thing. "Jesus, that thing is fucking massive."

He isn’t entirely sure whether he's going for awe or horror or just plain excitement. Maybe a combination of all three. He can feel his body spasming already, wanting to clench around it. Trust Hank to invent a giant, vibrating dick.

"Hank, don't let it go to your head, but I think you might be a genius."

"Do you want to go back to your room?"

"Nah, let's do it right here."

Alex hops off the stool and makes quick work of his jeans. He's too keyed up to go back to his room, so he just pulls up his t-shirt and bends over the lab bench with his ass in the air and hopes Hank likes what he sees. His hands are on Alex a moment later, still unsure, but there all the same. Hank gives him the same treatment Charles did, fingering him open to get him loose and ready. He needs it a lot more this time, but that doesn't stop him from being impatient.

"Come on, Hank. Hurry it the fuck up. I'm dying here," Alex says, and it's not that far from the truth.

"You need to relax."

"Just fuck me already, bozo." Alex wriggles his ass. "Come on."

A couple seconds later, Alex is sort of regretting that impatience. The head of Hank's toy is huge and blunt and when it finally pops in, Alex nearly passes out. The rest of it goes in more smoothly, but it's easily the biggest thing Alex has ever taken, and that's counting the time he let two guys fuck him at once, just to see if it placated his powers any better.

It didn’t.

"Fuck," he chokes out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Hank's voice is wry. "Too much?"

"I don't, fuck, man," Alex says, resting his head against the lab bench and trying to stop shaking. He feels like he's being split in two and the worst part of it is that it's the best ache he's ever felt. "Don't just leave it there. Fucking move."

The thrusts are slow and shallow, but they still burn like crazy and Alex already feels completely drained. Five minutes with this thing is going to feel like a motherfucking marathon, he can tell. He's not at all prepared for when Hank turns the switch at the base, but when he does, Alex is sure everyone in the mansion can hear him whining. Whining, like a fucking bitch in heat. And he can't seem to stop, either. Hank twists it in and out and Alex can't stop keening as he rocks his hips back into it, edging on desperation and ready to collapse.

He comes in record time, clenching up so hard it aches. When Hank finally pulls the toy out of him, Alex’s asshole feels so stretched out he doesn’t think it’s ever going to shrink back to normal. He sinks down on his knees and falls forward onto his arms, knowing he’s just kneeling there gaping right in front of Hank and not even caring.

"You're all red," Hank says. Alex believes it. "How does it feel?"

"Hurts," Alex says. "Hurts, but it feels good, too. I feel... really sensitive."

In fact, he feels too sensitive. Just the waft of air through the lab over his hole is making him rock his hips. He still needs more. Not days more, but more nonetheless. He hears Hank get down behind him and Alex is about to ask what the hell he's doing when he feels something wet swipe across his hole.

"What the---"

"You'll like this," Hank says. "It'll help soothe the ache a little."

It's not that Alex doesn't know what he's doing or that he's never heard of it, but having Hank just get down behind him and start licking his asshole is unexpected, to say the least. Hank's mouth is soft, kissing and sucking and licking by turns, his nose bumping at the base of Alex's spine. Hank holds him apart with his hands, squeezing his ass as he drools hot saliva all over Alex's hole and laps it back up. He must be a mess back there, with all the lube, but Hank doesn't seem to mind the taste and Alex definitely doesn't mind what Hank's doing.

He doesn’t really know how calling Hank a bozo and interrupting his lab work has earned him the best rimjob of his life, but Alex doesn’t give a shit whether he deserves it or not as long as Hank keeps running his teeth over him like he wants to bite into Alex’s ass and then soothing the bites with his tongue. When he comes again, it’s not much more than a pathetic dribble like he’s on the verge of being fucked dry.

By the time Hank finishes, all Alex wants is a hot bath and a long nap. He leans on Hank the whole way back to his room, where he promptly collapses on the bed.

He's out before he even hits the mattress.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Alex wakes up, Sean is sitting there on the edge of the bed, drumming his fingers on his knees and looking bored.

"What are you doing here, Cassidy?"

"I wanted to talk," Sean says.

"So what---you stayed here and watched me sleep?"

"No. I've been here like ten minutes. Chill, man."

Alex sits up, just a little aware of the fact that he still smells like sweat and sex from Hank. He feels his dick stirring again anyway. This is the last time, and then he'll be good. He can be a normal person after this last time and go train with everyone else and pretend that none of this ever happened. Until it happens again. Alex doesn't really want to think about that, though.

Sean looks at him, almost pouting, and blurts, "How come you fucked everyone in this place except for me?"

"I didn't fuck Raven," Alex says, automatically. But only because she doesn't have a dick and Charles would kill me. "I was getting around to it. You, I mean."

"Whatever, man. You saved me for last," Sean says. His shoulders slump. "I thought we were bros."

"We are," Alex says. "Come on, don't be like this. C'mere," he says, dragging Sean down on the bed with him. "I just didn't want to freak you out."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Sean looks at him for a minute and then shrugs. "Okay, that's cool. You must be pretty sore, huh?"

"You have no idea."

He won't sit right for a week, but at least he feels almost normal again, except for that last hurdle. He could probably get away without Sean fucking him, survive a couple of rough days, and be fine. But Alex isn't about to say no to Sean when he's just lost the hurt look from his face and is cuddled up under Alex's arm like there's no place he'd rather be. He doesn't really mind Sean following him around like a lost puppy. It's as good a balm for his ego as anything.

Sean buries his face in Alex's neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the line of his jaw as his hand snakes its way under Alex's t-shirt.

"You smell nice," he says. "Kinda like sex."

"How d'you know what sex smells like?"

"What? I'm not a virgin, man. I know what sex smells like."

"Okay, cool it. Sorry for assuming."

"You're an ass, Summers," Sean says, but whatever he thinks, it doesn't stop him from stripping off Alex's t-shirt and nuzzling up under his arm. He licks Alex there, like it's no big deal, and weirdly enough, it feels good when he does it.

A couple days ago, Alex was sure they'd all hate him for being a faggot and now he's been lovingly handled by Charles and fucked by Erik and had Hank's tongue in his ass and Sean is licking his armpits and it's kind of stupid, but Alex likes it. He still hasn't forgotten about Darwin, but it softens the blow a little to know that they all care about him enough to do this for him.

Sean moves to his nipples next, sucking on them with these wonderful, red lips that Alex has no clue how he didn't notice before. He's not really into freckled ginger guys, but Sean's got this smirk when you get him going that makes him look less like a clown and more like an imp. He's kind of fuckable looking, really. Alex is going to have to explore that in more depth later, after he's recovered properly.

Alex pulls off his boxers---his jeans are still lying on the floor of Hank’s lab, somewhere---and his cock springs free, red as a cherry and dribbling precome all down the shaft. If Sean lays so much as a finger on him, he'll probably go off. He's sensitive to the point where coming is a double-edge of pleasure and pain. It's amazing that his cock can even stand on its own at this point.

Sean looks up at him and smiles, pure mischief. "You want me to suck it, Summers?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before he closes his lips around the head. A swirl of his tongue and Alex's self-fulfilling prophecy is coming true, what little come he has left spilling into Sean's open mouth. He keeps sucking, though, cleaning Alex off and rubbing his cheek all over Alex's softening cock. His skin is velvet-smooth, perfectly soft even when Alex is so sore.

Sean doesn't even make fun of him for having a hair-trigger, which is nice, because Alex doesn't really want to kick Sean out of his bed this early in the game.

"You want something else before we---?"

"Nah, I'm good," Alex says. "How do you want me?"

Sean grins. "You’d look pretty up top. You up to it?"

"Sure."

Alex can do that. He's pretty sure the muscles in his legs are about ready to liquefy after all this fucking, but sure, he can do that for Sean. They swap positions, Sean stripping out of his clothes as quickly as he can and lying back with his legs open invitingly. Freckly ginger or not, he's got a nice cock. Sort of... pretty, if that's even possible. Alex thinks some stupid shit when he's like this, so he just shrugs it off and bends so he can kiss Sean's thighs. They're creamy and covered in freckles, barely any hair at all and so soft Alex is afraid his fingers will just sink right in.

He kisses his way around the base of Sean's cock and laughs. "I guess Raven owes me twenty bucks."

Sean sounds dazed. "What for?"

"She didn't think you were a natural redhead. Guess she was wrong."

"You guys are assholes, man."

"Yeah, probably," Alex agrees. "But it's getting you laid, so I wouldn't complain."

Sean shrugs. "Fair enough."

After a little while spent nosing around in Sean's pubic hair, which is just as soft as the rest of him, Alex gets up on his knees and straddles him. He doesn't need the prep, doesn't even need any extra lube. He's so wet from everything Hank did to him, he sinks right onto Sean, who moans and bucks his hips and sounds---predictably---like a virgin. Alex doesn't really believe him, no matter what he says.

Sean's just one of those guys who thinks he's watched enough porn to fake the experience. That's what Alex thinks.

But he feels pretty great, even if he is a virgin. And he's not the one who came in two seconds, either, so there's that. Sean actually looks to be holding out pretty well with his hands on Alex's thighs, rubbing over the hair there and looking up at him with that same look of hero-worship he wears all the time when they're together. Alex doesn't even mind this time.

He can feel all the static in his chest dissipating as he grinds down on Sean's dick, slow because he's too tired to get frantic up here. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stands up for a little while, and then even the afterimage of the electricity is gone. That's it. Alex is over the whole jag. But there's no reason to climb off Sean yet, when they've only just begun.

There's a lot to be said for scratching the bitch of all itches, but Alex likes it even more knowing that it's not just relief from his powers that he's chasing while he rocks on top of Sean, bending every so often to kiss his open mouth or bite at his freckled shoulders. All of those freckles are driving him wild, for some reason. He wants to lick them all, everywhere, explore every inch of Sean just to make sure he doesn't miss a single one.

"Yeah," Sean grunts. "Ride it, Summers."

He sounds ridiculous, but Alex is kind of fond of him anyway, just because Sean knows he sounds ridiculous, too. He's got this loopy, fucked-out grin on his face that says it all.

"Alex? Can I come in you?"

Only Sean would actually ask. "Yeah, come on."

He comes in a little fit of held-back cries---Charles would be pissed if they started breaking windows---and after, Alex slumps down on top of him with a yawn. It feels good not to have his chest tugging at him, even if he's sure he's never been more sore in his life.

"That was good," Sean sighs, combing through Alex's hair. "We should do that again some time, maybe when everyone else hasn't already fucked you."

"You are kind of getting the dregs, man. Not gonna lie."

"Fuck you," Sean says, but he sounds happy. "I like you, you know."

"I like you, too," Alex says, and he's sort of surprised to find it's true. Sean is the last person he can imagine himself falling for, but lying here with him feels more natural than it did with anyone else, except maybe Darwin. "I like you a lot, Sean. You're pretty cool."

"Nah." Alex glances up and he's flushed bright red. "You really think so?"

"Yeah," Alex says. "I do."

They fall asleep tangled up in each other and Alex is comforted by the promise that, no matter what else happens, Sean will be there when he wakes.
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