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Trapped	By : Zoisite84 Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 1356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men: Evolution" or any characters therein. I am not making money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Trapped
- 1
Magneto's grip on the Blackbird is iron-clad, and Charles stops trying to escape, simply allows the Master of Magnetism to land him snugly on the asteroid's small observation deck, biding his time. He exits the aircraft warily, his wheelchair making a soft whirring noise as it moves over the slightly bumpy ground.

'Magneto,' he calls out with his mind, gearing himself up for the inevitable confrontation with his old friend. A shuffling sound interrupts his concentration. Gaze snapping up, he quickly realizes the source of the disturbance: Pietro Maximoff, and his fellow Brotherhood cohort, Lance Alvers.

Lance's expression is immediately obstinate, his posture vaguely threatening. "Well, well, lookie what Magneto dragged in," he jokes, a grin on his face. He purposely walks behind Charles' wheelchair, and Charles wills himself not to swivel his head, not to take the obvious bait. "What d'you think we should do with him, Pietro?"

The slightly smaller boy gives Charles a once-over, his eyes pale, his mouth in a haughty frown. He watches as Lance pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and winds it around the professor's head, blocking his sight. "What are you doing?" Pietro asks, blinking in surprise.

Lance finishes securing the blindfold and tugs out more fabric from his pockets. "He's our prisoner, man," he smirks, and Charles tries not to panic when he feels the shaggy-haired boy begin to bind his wrists to the arms of his chair. "We can do whatever we want with him."

Charles hears Pietro give a small sigh. "Sorry, Lance," he retorts, "but my dad's orders were not to harm him." He takes in the seated man's bound frame, however, and tilts his head, though Charles is unable to see it. "I guess, though, that we could rough him up a bit," Pietro muses, and Lance chuckles darkly.

"How do we know he's not gonna try any of his weird head games on us, though?" Charles purses his lips, beginning to concoct a promise that he would never manipulate someone like that if he can help it, but Pietro beats him to the punch.

"I've got an idea." He hears the inertia of the younger boy picking up speed, and only scant seconds later, he can tell that Pietro has likely just been from one end of the asteroid to the other and back again. "My dad said it'd do the trick," Pietro boasted; before Charles could figure out what 'it' was, he felt something pressing slightly down and around his head, over his ears, coming to rest along his jaw. "It's s'posed to block his telepathy," Pietro smirks, and Charles bites back a worried gasp, because it does. It's one thing for Magneto to block his own thoughts off from Charles with his helmet, but it's quite another for all of Charles' attempts to reach out and connect with other minds to be blocked. The air feels cold and damp around him, suddenly. He shivers.

"I don't think he likes that very much." Lance's voice is slightly tinny, and sounds further away than it is. Charles has remained stoic and silent up to this point, but he can't help the surprised groan that Lance elicits by shoving hard at his chest. "Do you?" Lance demands, and Charles wets his lips.

"I beseech you, gentlemen, ... violence solves nothing. If you'll untie me, I'm sure we can reach some sort of peaceable accord ..."

"Spoken like a true brainiac," Lance snorts. "Only one problem, though, Prof: We're no gentlemen." Charles feels his tie being fumbled with, and tries unsuccessfully to move his wrists. "Wanna watch him suck me off?" the dark-haired boy asks Pietro, and it feels as though the helmet compresses against his skull a bit.

Pietro's voice is throatier than usual now. "Do it," he urges, and Charles struggles when he hears Lance unzip his pants, to no avail. "Stop fighting this, Professor," Lance orders him. He brings his cock to Charles' mouth, forcing it to brush against the older man's lips. "Suck it," he barks, and then grips the back of Charles' head, forcing him to comply. "Don't try to bite me or anything like that, either," Lance continues, and then he groans when Charles' unwitting ministrations begin to take effect. "Aaahh, yeah ... I think he's had practice, don't you, Pietro?"

Pietro snorts. "My dad didn't just bring him here to play chess." Charles flushes a bit at the insinuation, but Lance is right there, bearing down on his head, forcing him to take him deeper into his mouth, and he obeys, helplessly, hoping that this will be over sooner rather than later. "S-swallow it," Lance bites out, and then he's coming into Charles' mouth, and it leaves a bitter aftertaste on Charles' tongue. Lance pulls away and slaps his cheek lightly. "He's good at this," he announces to Pietro. His gaze slides downwards and he grins wickedly. "He likes it, too. Look."

The first pinch to one of Charles' nipples makes him gasp outright. "Like that?" Lance asks, and then, without waiting for an answer, he's twisting and kneading at Charles' nipples through his shirt, forcing them into hardened nubs. Charles pants, biting his lip in humiliation, but both he and Lance know that he's getting something out of this. "He's hard, too," Lance announces, and Charles feels Lance grasping at his cock, hears him fumbling noisily with the zipper. "You should come sit on him, Pietro," Lance infers. "Come sit on his cock and ride it."

Pietro makes a strange sound that Charles thinks might be fear. "Lance, c'mon, maybe this has gone far enough ... my dad's gonna be pissed enough already," he stammers. There's little dialogue between the two boys after that for several long moments; Charles suspects that Lance has begun to attempt to coerce Pietro into doing what he's suggested. "C'mon, Pietro ... it'd be really hot ..." he hears Lance faintly murmur. Once again, he shudders, wondering how everything has come to this.

The touch to his lower arm makes him jump. "Gonna need some lube or something," Pietro murmurs close-ish to his ear, assuming the boy is sizing him up. He hears Lance make a faint sound of disgust. "Maybe my dad has some. Hang on." There's another short span of silence, and then Pietro is there anew, and Charles can hear him quietly untwisting the cap from a container. He shivers.

"Pietro." His voice is quiet, plaintive, and he senses even without the aid of his telepathy that Magneto's son hesitates. "Don't do this. Please."

"Right, listen to the good professor, Pietro," Lance sing-songs, and the mockery seems to encourage Pietro's loyalty better than Charles' pleading can. He hears vague noises associated with Pietro opening himself up with his fingers, hears Lance's breath catch in his throat ("fuck, that's hot, man"). Pietro's weight added to his chair tips it slightly until the boy can get his bearings, and Charles can hear him breathing kind of hard, and all of the space around him feels like it's tight and pressing closer and closer.

"P-Pietro ..." he murmurs, but Pietro is starting to lower himself onto Charles' cock now, and Charles can tell that his ass hole is slicked up. "God, fuck, oh fuck, it h-hurts," Pietro yowls, and Charles bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. "H-he's in, I think," Pietro stutters, and Charles releases a shaky breath because he can feel it, too.

"Fuck him, Professor," Lance urges, and Charles can feel Pietro start to grind and bounce atop his lap. "Fuck his pretty little ass." Pietro's movements quickly grow more pointed, and the boy caterwauls and whines loudly as he's penetrated repeatedly. When Charles hears Pietro complain that "aaahh, Lance, I'm tipping backwards!", Lance outright laughs. "S'okay, I've got you, buddy." Charles can hear flesh sliding against flesh, and guesses that Lance has begun to jerk the younger boy off while Charles' cock continues to fuck him.

As his orgasm nears, Charles' breath comes in staggered, punctuated moans. His fingers curl desperately around the arms of his chair; his legs remain useless and permanently numb underneath Pietro, who is keening and sobbing on his lap, things like, "hurts, feels so good, oh my God, yes, yes" pouring from his mouth. When Charles does come, he can't tell whether he beats Pietro to the punch or not; he's moaning, and Pietro is moaning, and Lance is muttering darkly near his ear ("didn't know you had it in you, Professor"), and then everything recedes into the darkness.

*

"Danger Room sequence: 'Asteroid M. encounter' complete. Powering down." The tell-tale whirring of the room responding to the automatic command calls forth large ceiling lights, and Charles blinks as his eyesight adjusts.

Magneto saunters out of the corner, arms across his chest, a slow grin across his face. "It's getting better at its people configurations," he comments idly. "Both the Quicksilver and Avalanche simulations were ... quite realistic."

Charles watches as small metal pinchers come down from the ceiling and unbind his wrists, the blindfold already having been removed. "Indeed," he replies, and licks his lips. "If I didn't know better, I'd think they were really here."

Magneto floats toward him, carefully looking Charles up and down. "It's only me," he says softly, and the other man smiles, and then yawns a little. "Tired, Charles?" Magneto comments idly, and Charles straightens in his chair.

"No, not particularly."

"Well, good." Magneto's eyes flash. When Charles hands him back his helmet, he tucks it under his arm, and then, bending down, props Charles' chin upon two fingers, tilting his head up and claiming the other man's mouth in his. "I hoped you still had some fight left in you," the Master of Magnetism insinuates, and now Charles can see the other man's erection tenting the fabric of his uniform. He reaches out and presses a hand to Magneto's crotch, and Magneto groans appreciatively. "Pace yourself, Charles," he grins. "It's going to be a long night yet."
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Trapped