For Hire

BY : WolverMean
Category: X-men Comics > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1270
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel characters or the Marvel Universe mentioned within this story and I'm not making any money off of it. This is strictly for fun and not profit.

With glowing hearts, we see thee rise

The True North strong and free!

O Canada

Composed by Calixa Lavallée

Lyrics by Sir Adolphe-Basile Routhier & Robert Stanley Weir

 


 

It’s gettin’ close to midnight. The penthouse is quiet when I come in, an’ to be honest, I’m kinda grateful.

I’m fuckin’ exhausted.

That ain’t somethin’ I cop to often, but I’m bustin’ my ass tryin’ to make sure that you’re protected. I’m been talkin’ to people who said they’d give you a safe space for the time bein’ an’ one of those people is a complete an’ utter asshole that I’d rather tear limb from limb than ask a favour, but it ain’t like you an’ I got lots of choice in the matter.

‘Sides, with his dumb-ass “code of honour” bullshit that he adheres to, you ain’t gonna be safer anywhere else—except space, an’ that shit ain’t gonna happen.

I fuckin’ hate space.

But I swear if the runt touches or upsets you, I’m gonna fuckin’ rip him into a billion tiny fuckin’ pieces bury each sliver in a different place. I fuckin’ dare him to come back from that one, the goddamn bastard asshole.

You’re heart’s beatin’, lettin’ me know you’re in the bedroom upstairs. You ain’t asleep, which I’m also grateful for. Seein’ your face and gettin’ to talk to you will calm me down. Despite the fact you have the temper of fuckin’ Yosemite Sam, you exude this tranquillity, almost an antithesis to my goddamn chaos.

I’m like a fuckin’ vampire, feedin’ off of it, usin’ it like a rope that’ll help me back to shore.

I haul off my boots an’ shuck my coat, then fix myself a scotch before headin’ wearily up the stairs, think about grabbin’ a shower before listenin’ to your stories of the shit that Bob an’ Doug McKenzie got up to an’ kissin’ you before hittin’ the hay.

“Hey, tiger,” I say as I come into the room. I toss the scotch down my throat as I cross to my nightstand an’ the bed we share. The glass makes a thunk as it hits the table an’ I start pullin’ my shirt off. “What did those bastard cats do—“

I stop talkin’ ‘cause I can’t take my eyes from you.

You’ve wearin’ a tank top with a Canadian flag on it an’ a pair of red an’ white panties. There’s a pair of dealie-boppers on your head, two bright red maple leafs bobbin’ back an’ forth.

“Happy Canada Day,” you say provocatively, comin’ towards me all slinky an’ sexy-like.

I open my mouth to speak but my brain can’t remember how anythin’ above my dick works. It’s already at full attention, salutin’ the flag that’s stretched across your breasts.

Christ.

Your fingers curl in the belt loops of my jeans an’ you step in close to me, your scent swellin’ around me, fillin’ my senses. The kiss you lay on me almost makes me pop right there, an’ suddenly, I ain’t so exhausted no more.

“I think your true north needs to be strong and free,” you murmur.

You continue to kiss me as you work off my jeans, your hot little hand like a cattle brand against my rigid cock, makin’ me groan into your mouth. I let you push me towards the bed as you kiss and stroke me firmly an’ it’s all I can do not to blow all over your talented fingers.

Shit, even the dealie-boppers don’t even faze me. I like how they’re lit up, castin’ a devilish glow over your angelic face, tellin’ me that you’re an angel that don’t mind doin’ a little sinnin’ on the down low.

My hands reach for your tank top; I want it off ‘cause I wanna see those beautiful breasts, wanna hold ‘em in my hands, squeeze ‘em a little, but you slap ‘em away, drawin’ a disappointed groan from me.

“C’mon, tiger,” I whine. “If you ain’t gonna let me touch those tits, what’s the fuckin’ point?”

You smile wickedly at me as you push me back onto the bed. “Don’t think I don’t see all the hard work you’re doing for me,” you say. “I wanna show you how much I appreciate it and how much I appreciate you.”

Fuck.

That’s the only explanation I get before you take my cock in your mouth an’ all I can see are those maple leaf dealie-boppers bouncin’ around as you suck me like you’re tryin’ to Hoover my brains out through my dick hole.

I forget words. I forget how to say words. I forget how to think words. The only thing I know is how great your mouth and tongue feel as they work up and down my cock, coating it in your sweet spit, your hand firm as it strokes me.

Your free hand cups my balls, clasping them tightly, an’ I buck, unable to help myself. My cock hits the back of your throat, but you don’t gag. In fact, you encourage me to fuck your mouth. It’s so hot an’ wet an’ I take advantage of your offer, lettin’ myself exploit your gorgeous throat, stealin’ away opportunities for you to breathe.

The dealie-boppers on your head are rockin’ roughly but they don’t come loose.

If you was any other person—any other—I’d deep throat you to death, stuffin’ my cock so far down that there’d be no way you’d be able to take a breath. I’d suffocate you on my dick, spurtin’ as your heart stopped beatin’.

But you ain’t any other person; you’re my mate an’ I’d never hurt you—not on purpose—so when I hear you gettin’ uncomfortable, your heart racin’ with a touch of fear, I stop an’ pull back, lettin’ you get air into your lungs.

“Goddamn, tiger,” I’m pantin’ as you lift your head up an’ we lock eyes.

I can’t fuckin’ get enough of you.

You gimme a sly smile before you lick around the head of my cock an’ slide it slowly back into your mouth. I caress the back of your neck an’ stroke your hair before I poke at the dealie-boppers, makin’ ‘em spring back an’ forth. They keep up the momentum as you bob on my dick.

You move your head slightly and swallow, movin’ my cock to the top of your throat. It’s drivin’ me fuckin’ wild an’ I’m worried that if you let me fuck your mouth like that again, I’ll lose control an’ hurt you.

I grab your ponytail an’ pull you up so I can see your eyes. “No more, tiger,” I growl. “Gimme that pussy instead.”

You don’t say a word as you climb up my body, lickin’ your way up my abs an’ chest, makin’ my purr turned to chuffs of heat an’ I see your eyes change, pupils blown. I’ve got you fuckin’ crazy an’ I love it.

But you’ve got me fuckin’ crazy, too. I’d be goddamn stupid to deny it.

“Jesus Christ,” I groan as you sink down on my dick, swallowin’ it all up in your wet, tight hole.

A keenin’ sound comes from between your clenched teeth. I know it hurts you when you first take me inside but I can tell when the pain stops an’ it starts feelin’ good. Your shirt’s gotta come off an’ I yank at it, rippin’ it before you start movin’. You ain’t wearin’ a bra an’ my hands are immediately on your tits, squeezin’, just like I wanted.

“Oh fuck, Victor!” you gasp as I skate my thumbnails around your hard nipples. “You feel fucking amazing!”

Now I know it’s feelin’ good. Fuck, I’m feelin’ fuckin’ awesome.

Those dealie-boppers are jouncin’ like fuckin’ Mexican jumpin’ beans as you grind yourself down on my cock. It should be distractin’, but it ain’t. It’s just a part of you, silliness you’re able to spin into white-hot sexiness—my playful little tiger.

As your fingernails dig into my flesh, you let out a sexy little growl that lets me know you’re close to comin’. I reach down an’ grab your ass, pullin’ you down as I thrust up an’ it ain’t too long until you’re screamin’, your velvety, delicious pussy grippin’ me tightly.

Hearin’ you shout my name is enough for me; I come with a growl, drivin’ myself as deep as I can go while I spill into you, your name on my lips. You drive your hips forward a few more times, easin’ us through our orgasms until we’ve given each other our all. You lean forward with a sigh, lickin’ at the sweat from my chest.

Those fuckin’ dealie-boppers bounce as I grab your face an’ yank it to mine, kissin’ you like I’m gonna eat ya. You sweep your saucy little tongue over my canines, makin’ me shudder with delight.

I break the kiss, a thin strand of saliva stretchin’ from your lips to mine. “Christ,” I say softly. “If that’s how you’re gonna thank me, I’m gonna have to start doin’ more nice shit for you.”

You smile an’ lean down to nuzzle my neck an’ the dealie-boppers bop me in the eye. We laugh as you take ‘em off an’ toss ‘em across the room.

“Well, my intentions may have been a bit more selfish than I let on,” you say, nippin’ at my neck. “Anyway, we’re just in time to watch the fireworks.”

Sure enough, the bright lights start explodin’, colourful brilliance against the night sky. I put my arms around you, an’ you snuggle into my chest, your head tucked under my chin as we watch the interplay of sparks.

“Happy Canada Day,” you whisper, pressin’ a kiss to my shoulder.

“Happy Canada Day, tiger.”



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