Eloi | By : Nemain Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5007 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
Eloi Chapter Nine
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of
Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic
Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Last
day of the 20’s, huh? ;) *GLOMP * InterNutter, TC,
Maxwell Pink, Graywolf and Dracena
are loverly and wondermous
for archiving/hosting. J
ProPhile, check your mail at 7 your time. Morgan: Two days, huh? *sends luck * Readers/Reviewers: Ever see a
commercial that’s supposed to be serious but it’s so bad you laugh and then
feel a bit bad about it? Just checking…
Lance
hissed under his breath as Amara’s nails scored his back. He gripped the headboard reflexively,
instinct overriding orders.
“Stay
*still *,” Amara said sharply. “I’m not done.” She shifted on her knees, moving to his right
side. A fine network of red marks scored
his back, some fine as lace and others angry and red. Lance did not move as she trailed one
manicured nail down his skin from his shoulder, following the line of his side
to his hip. The marks would not leave
scars but they would be a nice reminder, she thought, leaning forward so that
her hair brushed over the sensitive skin.
Lance inhaled sharply but he did not hiss again. She smiled and patted
his shoulder lightly. “Good. You’re learning.” She reached for the candle on the bedside
table and paused. It had burned down enough to have a nice pool of wax in the
well around the wick, the clear liquid seeming to shiver slightly as she held
the burning wax in her hand[1]. “Roll over,” she ordered, moving back
slightly. “If you make me spill this, we’re done here.”
Lance
carefully moved onto his back, biting his lip as the tender flesh pressed
against the sheets of Amara’s bed. He could feel her gaze on him, intent and
assessing, and he opened his eyes to meet hers.
She held the white candle in her hand, the flame casting odd shadows in
the afternoon sunlight. The house was quiet, everyone in a meeting, and Lance fancied he could
hear the wax pop as the wick burned further into the heart of the candle. “We have time for this?”
She quirked
her lips in a smile, looking less like a Princess of Nova Roma and more like a
goddess than she could have imagined. “If you stay quiet, we won’t be
found. And did I give you permission to
speak?” She moved the candle higher,
holding it a good two feet above his chest.
“Good boy,” she said when he did not respond. She tilted her wrist so that the wax began to
dribble from the candle, moving her arm so that she left a trail from his
breastbone to his navel, then back up.
Lance arched slightly, his fingers curling into fists at his side. “When we’re done here,” she said softly,
moving to leave a line of wax from his left nipple down to his ribs, reaching
with her free hand to smear the still-hot wax slightly, “we’ll go down to the
meeting and see what’s going on.”
Lance
nodded slightly, biting back the urge to speak.
Todd had teased him mercilessly the day before when he had heard Amara order Lance not to speak. “What,” the golden-eyed teenager had chided,
“you that whipped? Ain’t keepin’
it in the bedroom no more?” He had not
answered, Amara’s intent gaze measuring him,
wondering if he would break from her order.
He had not, going so far as to bite down on his tongue to keep
silent. Lance could not explain to Todd
why he was so willing to be obedient like that, to do as he was told. He did not, he decided, need to tell Todd
anything about it. He had his own issues
with Rogue. Lance gasped sharply, jerked
back to the present at Amara’s touch on his inner
thigh. She had put the candle down and
was trailing her fingers along the soft skin, her skin heated to the point of
near-pain.
“Come
back,” she murmured. “You were gone…”
“Amara,” he said in a tone as to match hers, waiting a
moment to see if she would chide him again.
When she did not, he continued.
“Are we…weird? I mean… I read
this thing on the internet that said people who like stuff like this have…um…
mental problems.”
Amara looked stunned for the briefest of moments, drawing
away from him and sitting back on her heels.
Unlike Lance, she was fully clothed, something that made him feel even more exposed and vulnerable than almost anything
else she could have done. Her thoughts
flew to the two amber colored plastic bottles in her book bag, the thick white
pills and the shiny red capsules she was supposed to take whenever things became
too…difficult. “Do you think I have
mental problems, Lance? Is that why you
think we do this? I’m sick or
something?”
Lance
winced. “No, no I don’t. I just… I dunno. Sorry. Forget I said anything.” He closed his eyes for a moment, opening them
only when Amara’s nails raked gently down his chest,
scraping up the wax. He shivered slightly, the sensitized skin under the wax
not hurting but definitely sending sharp frissons of sensation to areas below
the waist.
“We’re not
crazy, Lance. We’re not sick.” Her words had a cadence to them, almost as if
she were repeating a chant or a mnemonic.
“We’re not freaks, we’re not wrong.
What we do is no one’s business but ours.” She paused and glanced up at him, shreds of
wax in the palm of her hand. “Unless we bring goats into this. Then it’d be sick and wrong.”
Lance
snorted, sitting up as she leaned over to deposit the wax on the bedside
table. “Sorry for ruining the moment…”
“Don’t
worry. You’ll make it up to me
later. I have new scarves,” she added as
an afterthought.
“Mmmm…noted. Think we should sneak into the meeting or
just…wait?” He kissed the back of her
neck, pulling her close. A dull thump
made them both look up, expecting to see someone at the door or, in the case of
some of the new students, the window.
“What the fuck was that?”
“A thump,”
she replied tartly, sliding from the bed.
“Put your pants on.” The fine
hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. Something bad was about to happen, she
knew. Something that
she did not want to be there for.
Another thump sounded, this time obviously coming from the hallway
outside her room. She jerked the door
open, irregardless of Lance’s pantsless state, and
glared out into the brightly lit hall, expecting to see Kitty or even Logan. “I swear, if that’s you, Susan[2],
I’m kicking your ass…”
Lance came
up behind her, shirtless, and leaned out into the hall. “No one’s out here.” He narrowed his eyes and frowned as he leaned
further out. “What’s that?”
She
followed the direction of his gaze and sighed. A dull colored tube lay under
the open window at the end of the hall, rocking slightly as if it had just
landed. “It’s nothing.”
Lance
shrugged but did not agree. “Maybe…Um…let’s go downstairs. Now.” He pushed her out into the hall and grabbed
her wrists. “As in
RIGHT NOW.”
[1] Yeah,
wax can be fun but it can really hurt a sub.
A Dom(me) too for that matter. So be careful if you play with it and for the
love of all that is holy, learn some safety rules first. Safe word, people, safe
word.
http://www.albanypowerexchange.com/BDSMinfo/hot_wax.htm
[2] I had to
do it. If you get it… *gold star *
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