and they don't make no love they just go to war

When Cedrik confirmed his assumption he looked at the suit on his doppelganger with a different set of eyes. Really everything that the other man made was amazing, however knowing that he had wanted Raymond to wear something he made thrilled him. Now more than before he regretted the way they had left things. Certainly they bickered since they were both very strong minded people, but Cedrik was a lot more thoughtful then he had given him credit for. “It’s not something that I would ever pick for myself, but it is… Beautiful,” Ray nodded a bit of heat rising to his cheeks.

Knowing that Cedrik had a platonic relationship with his date came as a relief to Raymond. He bit softly at his lower lip looking again at the designer, with another of his hopeful expressions. Raymond hadn’t come with anyone which made sense, seeing as he was the one running the party. When he noticed his boss preparing to give one of his long winded speeches his sighed. “I should probably get back to work, I really wanted this evening to go perfectly for you. So enjoy yourself,” he said a bit awkwardly. It probably had seemed a little scandalous the way he had run off with the man of honor.

-

Charm him, his brain urges. Remind him why he ever dated you but without the stupid jealousy ploys this time. And he’s pretty sure none of that involves cheesy lines but as far as Cedrik is concerned, he was never cheesy enough when they were together, too busy caping as if one wrong move would have him at some sort of disadvantage. “It’s aight,” he said, attention only momentarily on the suit, however he felt about it, it was Mark’s now, the man wearing it as comfortably as a second skin as he hobnobbed with Ray’s coworkers and the other wealthy elites that had come to either judge the launch or to rub shoulders with the young designer in hopes it would put them in his parents’ good graces. For once, he couldn’t even managed to be annoyed about that last part, mind too busy whirring with ideas about a piece that couldn’t just conform to anyone else’s, couldn’t match anyone but Ray.  “Nothing like you though.”

Was that too cringe-worthy? It probably was, and a small traitorously venomous thought bubbles up that says it was and that sort of sappy shit was the reason Raymond was trying to dart off now, but Cedrik squashes it. All of this had been for him, fuck if he was going to ruin it being insecure and supremely selfish on top of it. Still-

Before he can think of all the reasons to reconsider his course of action, Cedrik surges forward to steal a kiss, it’s light, only a pale shadow of what he’s wanted to do since seeing Raymond again and even when they part with a light smack, he has to restrain himself from kissing him again. “Everything is more than perfect.” Except that he can’t just kiss Ray forever, but gift horse-mouth. “Go and wrangle your boss and I’ll do my little thing on the podium, but find me after?” He poses it like a request and it makehis cheeks burn. “I’d like to. . . Talk. About us.”

Omar did his best to suppress a smile. He felt like he had averted a huge crisis and if the weight in his hand was any indication, he had talked himself into a treat. It was a win-win from where he was kneeling and he wasn’t going to hesitate any further. “Yes, sir. – Oh, and I think you’d be surprised on just how much I can handle.” His last comment was barely uttered before those same pouty lips were wrapping around the tip of the man’s now semi-erect cock. He had done quite the number on him with the offer and his hand alone, but he was hungry to see just what he could do with him now that he had the green light. Tongue swirling around the sensitive spot, he lubricated the it down to the shaft before pushing his head into the man’s crotch. The hardening member digging against his tongue and curving unnaturally down his throat, which he welcomed like a champion.

“Shit.” He curses, any stray thought that this was all somehow a bluff being blown to bits as Santiago watches, utterly fascinated as the dreamy-eyed boy makes his cock disappear like magic. “Talented slut,” he says in a tone that almost borders on impressed because he is. At another angle, he imagines, he’d be able to see the little punk’s throat bulge with his package, feel it as well from the outside that he does from the inside. He’s not entirely sure of how well the boy would take to him curling his big hands around his throat but the look in those dark eyes told him it probably wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome. Santiago curls his fingers into the base of his the boy’s hair and pulls back just to thrust in again with a little more force, testing the waters in absence of a definite gag reflex. “You do this shit often, pretty boy or are you just a natural?” 

It’s Only Life

@heartxheavy

Breach otherwise known as Owen Adler was the eldest of a psionic trio descendent from Irene Adler otherwise known as Destiny. When his mother died, he took care of his younger brothers to the best of his ability. He was one of the strongest Telepaths/Telekinetics in the states and it seemed as though he was always putting his life on hold for someone else…or something else. He’d been having an affair with a married man for several years before he finally was “courageous” enough to tell Kendrick goodbye. It was a heartbreak that he had to shut all contact with the other off, blocking him through all means of social media, his phone number, and refused any contact with the man. He poured himself into some obscure missions for the X-men putting himself in the most dangerous of positions. Along with his emotional mind, he managed to foster quite the friendship with a man named Manahi. They’d been friends for years, but had grown much closer through this. Owen; however, shut Manahi down when the other tried to bring Kendrick up. It was a wound he couldn’t trust anyone to get close to…at least not yet.

The “battle” for power or dominance in the mutant world seemed to be quiet as of late. There wasn’t any major shifts with the Brotherhood, and they hadn’t heard from the Morlocks for quite some time. Thankfully the Hellfire Club had seemingly been silent. Owen was awake at 5 in the morning again sticking to the pact he made with Manahi. They worked out together every morning before the sun came up especially where it was summer. Despite looking nice with a tan, Owen hated super warm weather at least when he wasn’t swimming or biking. He was dressed just in a pair of work-out shorts, and a pair of tennis shoes. His hairy toned chest was exposed as it always was - even in his mutant uniform though his mutation wasn’t active so his veins weren’t glowing yet. He was about to use his Telepathy to wake the other up or search for him when he saw the man come out into the courtyard. Owen tossed him a smile. “It’s about time. Was going to jolt you awake, Mojito.” Mojito was a nickname he’d called the other ever since their first night getting plastered drunk with one another. There were a few events from…that night that they didn’t talk about. 

“You ready to keep up with me, old man?” He winked at the other. 

@emergeanew​

Sticky shadows cling to his form as he steps out of the opaque black portal and into the violet light of morning, a grin on his face. Manahi could literally teleport and of course Collin would still beat him to their meeting spot. “Yanno some of us actually do things like sleep. How early did you get up to get here?”

When Manahi first really came into his powers, he was twelve and watching Peter Pan for the twenty-fifth time with the rest of his siblings in the family room, he doesn’t care for the film much- Haare ruined it for him early on by pointing out everything that was even slightly wrong, but it’s Ari’s night so he sits anyway, squeezed in between Zach and Simon on the big, rust colored couch that’s too much for the room and too little to fit all of the Schwarz-Kopfield children. They’re just getting to that scene where Peter escapes the Darling’s nursery without his shadow and he gets this idea in his head- he’s only ever noticed the fluctuations of his own shadow in passing, corner of his eye things where it’d shift and ripple, but he still gets this idea that he can make it happen intentionally but it doesn’t go the way it’s supposed to- it’s terrifying, it’s horrible, for months after, every shadowy specter in the house wears his face and his baby sister can’t even look at him.

Or Peter Pan, anymore.

As it is, he doesn’t come into contact with the X-men and consequently, Collin Adler until a decade or so later when his powers went on the fritz in public, he remembers bits and pieces of it- mostly panicking as his own body seemed to betray him, less flesh and blood and more twisting, writhing inky shadow and then. . .  And then a system of veins aglow with power.

It’s not love at first sight or anything, Manahi had been fresh from his first divorce at the time and not in the mental space to even broach the idea (And he’s pretty sure it was Collin who had hit him so hard, that if not for his semi-corporeal form, he would have lost several teeth), but it was something, a seed, maybe. A seed that’s been growing quietly and steadily the entire time they’d been friends. 

Very platonic friends.

Or mostly platonic considering the few ‘accidents’ they had and never discussed.

Tomorrow Waits For No One

@heartxheavy

She wasn’t the 19-year-old Austrian girl that could foresee the future yet was blind to everything else that wandered into her darling Raven anymore. Many years had passed, journeys bringing them together and pulling them apart. Despite knowing Raven was the keeper of her heart, she knew she did not hold onto Raven’s. At least, the mysterious Mystique never made it seem that way especially how she drifted in and out of her life. Blue skin and yellow eyes, or olive skin and green eyes it did not matter to Irene. The mutant known as Destiny a proud member of the Brotherhood for many years, took refuge in a lovely quant city just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. Her two bedroom two level home was more than enough for her and whomever might have stayed with her. She had a lovely golden retriever named Mikel whom was the best companion she could ask for. To the world she was simply a blind woman in her 40′s who needed assistance from a trained animal. Little did they know all the capabilities that she had. 

After showering and finishing up in the restroom, Irene settled herself at a vanity in her bedroom. A towel was wrapped carefully around her body, her long blonde hair damp and lain to one side as she began to follow her routine with getting ready. A simple neutral eye with a tight winged liner, mascara, cool toned red lips, and her eyebrows filled in. She knew her face as if she could see it in the mirror before her because of her visions. She also remembered how she would help her with her makeup all those years ago.

Irene glanced towards the open door of her bedroom. It wasn’t because of Mikel as her adorable dog was downstairs eating, and it wasn’t because of hearing the sounds of footsteps or a creak in the floorboard. She’d seen this happen many times in a vision of hers. “Hello, my darling Raven.” She replied softly turning back towards the mirror, her guard seemingly down. 

Why would Mystique be coming to see Destiny?

@emergeanew

She comes to her dear Irenie as she always does- slinking through whatever gap the mutant seer leaves open for her. (I

In the beginning, the ‘gap’ she filled was more professional, Irene had been a young mutant in need of someone more experienced to help her navigate the strange, exciting world unveiled by her visions and Raven had sensed an opportunity there. She couldn’t really pinpoint when their positions had switched- when Irene had become someone the blue-skinned mutant couldn’t do without, but no matter how far she wandered, she always found herself right back at Irene’s door. Some might say it was destiny. Others would say that love had made her sentimental, a soft-hearted fool able to tolerate the worst of puns.

                                      (It was her. She was ‘others’.)

 Raven intends on her latest visit being a surprise despite the knowledge that nothing in this world or the next could surprise someone who could see not just her future but the delicate branches every moment inspired within the timeline, but its the thought that counts, she figures as she sneaks pass Irene’s pathetically adorable (and utterly ineffectual guard dog) and up the stairs into her hallway, the blind woman’s acknowledgment the only thing that gives her pause at the bedroom’s threshold, posture stiffened like a cat caught in the middle of stealing away back to its home after time away.

She wants to tell Irene about the aching loneliness she felt without her, how no other person- man or woman, has been able to quell that aching maw. About the boy she gave birth to and gave up before she could even decide if she truly wanted him

(desperation drives her, the baby looked too much like her. like a monster. She’ll tell herself later that she did what she had to do considering the circumstances, but she’s not yet convinced that’s the truth.)

It was something of a relief when Cedrik mentioned that him and his date were friends. Perhaps that means they were only friends, and the nagging jealousy that Raymond felt was unfounded. Not that he should have been jealous at all after all him and Cedrik had broken up. Or rather they had simply let their relationship fall apart. Which Raymond felt he was mostly to blame since he prioritized his work over Cedrik. Or perhaps he prioritized his work for Cedrik, wanting the other man’s launch to go as successfully as possible. And for his advertisements to be as eye-catching as the man himself.

It took Raymond to moment to realize what Cedrik was suggesting. He looked out at the crowd and spotted his doppelganger who was dressed sharply in a suit that Raymond never would have picked for himself. However it was a good suit, and the thought that Cedrik had made it for him seemed to make him glow. Raymond tried to seem reserved but he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of his lips or the way his chocolate brown eyes glowed brightly with pleasure. 

“You… Designed it for me?” He asked, trying not to sound overly hopeful and failing. “And you and Mark came just as friends?”

Was it any wonder, seeing the way the man lit up when he was pleased, that Cedrik wanted to monopolize his time the way he did? Even now he couldn’t help but feel unashamedly greedy, stealing his attention away from the rest of the party. “Well I designed it for me to see you in-” he admitted, self-conscious and giddy in the way children are before presenting something they ‘found’, something about the way the other man looked at him made him present even the finest of things he ever crafted with his two hands like it was the messy embroidered handkerchief he made for his mom in second grade. “I know you’d probably never wear something like it normally, just always wanted to see you in something that I made, you know?” 

He was supposed to have ‘unveiled’ it two weeks ago, but by then he’d been too focused on holding onto pride- it was easier on his ego to go through his Insta mutuals til he found one who both fit his measurements and wouldn’t embarrass him at the party than to beg his ex to just put it on for him once. Looking at how Ray beamed now, he wondered if the latter would have truly been as impossible as he deemed it at the time. “-uh, anyway, yeah he’s just doing me a favor and getting a piece for the trouble. Totally platonic.”

+] S p a r k s . . .

@heartxheavy [music inspiration for post]

There was little “down” time that Oliver experienced. In the great vast city of the world that NYC was, his small compacted apartment not only was a studio for him to live in, but it was where he developed his pictures for his clients and built his photography business. It served another purpose though, it was also where he brewed his potions and wrote his vast spells when he wasn’t with his brothers and taking down demons or warlocks on his own. The world saw him as Oliver Adler, a young man in his 30′s running a “successful” business by day, but he was so much more than that. He was part of a psionic trio of witches possessing psychic abilities which were passed down generation to generation from his ancestors. Although there were much more known trinities of power in the magic community such as the famed Charmed ones, the Adler brothers were becoming more known at least in New York and on the East coast. 

Tonight was the down time that he was able to experience. He was pulled out to Treasure Chest, a popular LGBT dance club in Queens. It was one of the hottest nights of summer and “style” was never something associated with Oliver. He was dressed in jean shorts, a plaid shirt which was now open his bare sweaty tanned chest revealed due to the temperature. Sweat was dripping down the back of his neck as he downed the last of the drink Ricky ordered him. An upbeat song rang through the club and he rolled his eyes as his friends pulled him out on the dance floor. Lights started to go in and out, strobe lights dropping from the ceiling casting spotlights in various places and he started dancing to the movement. At some point with the crowd increasing, he lost his friends and he was pressed against someone. 

He smelled nice. 

Oliver’s eyes went down the other’s backside and without asking for permission his hands went to the man’s hips and he ground his hips against him, pressing their bodies together as they moved to the beat of the song. When the other turned to face him, Oliver’s face lit up in a flush, his eyes fixated on the beautiful man in front of him. 

Who was this, angel? 

@emergeanew​

Being a whitelighter in this day and age was.  . . Trying, to say the least. Gone were the days he’d pop into a witch’s life and be heralded as their faultless guardian, nooo, most modern witches tended towards surliness as a default- tell them what to do and he was accused of going ‘Big Brother’ on them, show them their options and dole out advice only as needed and he was ‘too hard to understand’, but modern problem children begat modern solutions and Emery Frost was full of those. He was the best there was at what he did and what he did was make witches into their best possible selves come hellspawn or high water.

Was. A spotless record for decade upon decade until Manuel, the Elders might have forgiven Emery for his failure to keep the boy on the straight and narrow but they shouldn’t have. He couldn’t. His mind still flashed with the reminders of his failure, the destruction left in his former charger’s wake.

                                                           Calm.

Which is why, rather than answer their gentle attempts to summon him (Keep him from moping around the mortal realm, more likely), he’s here at the Treasure Chest handling his angst the mortal way- general hedonism.

 It’s been some time since Emery’s last done this, too much time, he thinks. There’s not a single song on that he can name and despite the flashing lights, everything’s both darker and louder than he remembers clubs ever being but it doesn’t take him long to get into the swing of things. He buys himself his first drink but doesn’t have to wait long until someone else offers him a second, the guy is handsome, but something about the sleek dark hair, cocksure smirk and sureness reminds him of an unsettling number of exes so Emery makes just enough conversation with his would-be paramour as is polite before dismissing himself to the dance floor, with a shrug, (”I should be really be getting back to my girls,” he says before disappearing into the throng of undulating bodies before the other man can point out the obvious- “-hey wait! You said you were here alone!”.) The crowd is packed so tight, its almost suffocating, stray hands glide along his sides, sometimes tugging at the white harness adorning his otherwise bare chest as he dances, nothing that can hold his interest for long until someone presses themselves to his back and seize his hips- his first thought is that its the man from the bar, but the aura is. . . Different. Different enough that Emery’s intrigued enough to just go along with it, grinding back against his dance partner while skimming the energy pulsating off of the man in waves- he’s a witch from a powerful line, that much is clear, but there’s something else, something he barely had a word for, but has him shudder, fullbodied against the leanly muscled form before Emery could bring himself to face his partner.

@heartxheavy

Hearing Emery say that to him…in the moment of absolute terror and fear was the only thing he could hold onto. Although he wanted nothing more than to hear that lovely nickname on much better terms, he had wanted to reach out to Emery to break whatever barriers their were between them like he’d been struggling to breathe and this was his first opportunity for a true fresh breath of air. 

Instead…it was instant darkness.

Oliver’s vision was blurred as it took time to adjust in…where was he? After his mind cleared he recognized his room back at the X-mansion. Had they been saved? What happened to…

“Emery!” Oliver called out as he ran out of his bedroom, the three-eyed mutant’s features filled with fear and his heart raced as he tried desperately to find his lover. “Emery, are you here?!” His footsteps carried him down the hallway, bare feet against polished flooring. He felt the presence and when he turned, his entire face lit up as he saw…him. “You’re okay.” He took a deep breath, immediately going to Emery touching the other’s face his pure and full emotions exposed no mask in sight. He retracted his hands almost immediately though and his guard shot up as the seeming reality set into his features. “I…how did we get here?”

The Psionic mutant’s body was fully immobilized as he was shackled to a slab of metal in Sinister’s lair, a mutant ability inhibitor device slapped around his neck by Sabretooth’s clone. The bandana that was covering his forehead was nowhere to be found but even his third eye was shut, his body appearing lifeless safe for the steady breathing and his chest rising and falling. Something jolted him awake though as if his mutant abilities despite the inhibitor kicked in psychic barriers counteracting Sinister’s own abilities. “Emery!” Oliver cried out his wrists pinned unable to move against the restraints. “Don’t touch him! Emery! Wake up, please!” Prophet was in a panic as he attempted to Astral Project into Emery’s mind but the inhibitor shocked him causing his body to fall faint again. 

He wasn’t back with Emery. At least not in their shared cognition but rather in one of his memories, or his imagination at least. Maybe this was Emery? Maybe they both were remembering the same moment. It was from months ago, a snow storm causing them all to be stranded, power out at the X-mansion and candles lit over Prophet’s room. They both were naked under the sheets and Oliver was settled between Emery’s legs, his sweaty body’s weight against the other. “I love you.” Oliver replied with one of his teeth grins, sucking a mark into Emery’s neck, his hands moving down the other’s toned and sculpted chest. With a push forward, Oliver slid inside his lover, a gasp escaping him, another mark being sucked against Emery’s collarbone. 

He held onto a memory of good; however, was it truly under his control? Was this Sinister, trapping him into a memory as it was having an exterior effect on Oliver Adler, his body responding, a bulge evident in his lower uniform, the outline of his length evident. “Emery…” Oliver whispered his body fully relaxed as if no guard was even in sight. 

Could Emery hear him?

He’s been locked in his head before.

Xavier used to do it sometimes, still does it- usually to train him, more rarely to punish thought it happened less frequently now that he was an adult with finer control of his temper, not as prone to telepathically lashing out at anyone and everyone around him. 

Less of an unhinged threat. A good telepath is one with superior self-control, some semblance of a conscious even when everything’s burning down around them. Charles Xavier’s ‘this hurts me more than this could hurt you’ face on repeat.

Xavier’s default setting for such a prison was nothing but four white walls and nowhere to go, nothing as cushy and normal as the comfort of his own room so despite knowing better, he’s almost fooled. He raises himself up from the bed, yawning, wandering over to his window to peer out into the mansion’s sprawling backyard. A small group of mutants, Roberto and Sam Guthrie, among them, pitting their basketball talent against each other while a gaggle of younger mutants cheered them on- 

Oliver, their argument, the child they walked into what had to be a trap for, his head spun with the realization. 

This was wrong. 

He pushes at it, willing the false imagery away until the scene before him ripples, changes so that he’s no longer in his room, but the hallway, he barely had time to adjust to the sudden change before his vision was crowded with his former lover’s face. “Oliver?” Hope, the cautious, feathered thing, dared to touch down on his heart, part of him sure that this wasn’t a mere figment of his own desire. The other part was adamant that there was no way the real Oliver would be this happy to see him. 

 Will it away. He doesn’t do it though, not immediately, instead holding his breath when the maybe-illusion cradled his cheeks in deceptively familiar hands, even if this was the real one, this mental prison was no place for him and Emery had little idea as to how to take them both out safely without knowing who or what had done this in the first place. Will it away. He’s almost thankful when Oliver (or “Oliver”, as far as he knew) pulled away, shock settling in. “I. . . how did we get here?” Will him away.  “Goodbye, darling.” Emery close his eyes and when he opens them again, Oliver is gone.

                                    o      o     o     o       o       o      o

The ice-eyed telepath would have looked dead if not for the steady, but subtle rise and fall of his chest. He’s no Jean Grey with her ever so tantalizing genetic spread, but Adrienne’s assertions had been correct, he was, quite possibly, the next best thing and in prime condition despite the hormones. With Sinister’s technological strides (leaps!) in the field of reproduction, the little hen would produce as many eggs as needed and this hunk of first class mutant genetics he brought with him? Talk about sweetening the pot, this was the entire bowl of sugar.

“To think he almost gave us a fit,” Sinister said, clicking his tongue. A second too late and he’d have to physically incapacitate his test subject or rather- his hulking manservant would have to and wouldn’t that be a fantastic mess. Delicacy, it seemed, wasn’t in Victor Creed’s DNA, luckily they’d have no need for it for the rest of the procedure though the beastly man hung around, yellow, catlike eyes shifting from prisoner to prisoner like a guard dog, ever wary of a potential threat. Sinister sniffed, though the triclops had proved to be something of a surprise, waking up the way he did, these two were hardly a match for his normal set of abilities, less still with his new augmentation after studying that grubby orphan’s gift. What had been her name? Maria? Magdalene? Samantha? No bother, she had been enough to get him his new test subjects.

“Poor C33, don’t worry, the little men can’t hurt you,” he chuckled, averting his eyes as his machines started the extraction process. Unlike the feral mutant, he gained nothing from getting an eyeful of the prisoner’s parts, no, this was all in pursuit of something higher than that. Though, if someone had told him back when he was Nathaniel Essex that so many years of research and experimentation would result in inventing an automated pocket pussy, he’d have laughed himself hoarse and then treated himself to an ambitiously large cup of wine.

He still sort of felt like that wine, actually. “C33-,” he called, settling against his desk, rubbing his temples in anticipation of the thankfully rare thought that he was squandering his talents, setting pearls before swine. Theatrics to capture Pikachu, as he believed the young kids to be saying. “Be a dear and fetch me the Riojas. . . . C33?” The blonde feral didn’t move, nostrils flaring as he scented what Sinister, in his infinite knowledge, was sure was arousal. Ferals were disgustingly base creatures that way, generous eyebrows furrowed in frustration for a second. “C33!” The geneticist barked, breaking the creature from his absent minded reverie. C33 blinked at him before snorting as if trying to cover up its moment of inattention before lumbering off, Sinister’s voice echoing through the halls of the facility.

“And don’t forget the proper glasses this time! Some of us are civilized!”

                                   o      o      o     o       o      o     o

 It was embarrassing, how fast he gave into this memory, or dream or whatever it was. He had broken illusion and illusion before it, none of them containing Oliver and was confident he’d power through this one and then the other mutant was back again, kissing him and uttering the very words he longed to hear since their initial separation. One kiss turned to just one more and then-

   The more Elliot kept fucking the male, the more nicer it felt. The man that challenged him was turning into an omega, a virgin omega which got him excited and even harder. Elliot was known for lasting longer in bed and he was not done yet. He was going to wait until this beautiful male begged and screamed for him to knot them, breed them, plant his seed inside them. “You are so very special, my own special obedient wolf,” he growled as he felt the other clenching down hard. 

“Fuck….Cum for me my omega…” he moaned as he bit their neck as he kept fucking them. Getting wilder and his wild animal side a taking over. “That’s it…”

Little could have prepared Yujin for this experience, and even less could have had him anticipating the intensity of an omega orgasm for himself. He’s always been on the other side and part of him- the part that can produce any coherent thought, wonders at the time wasted not being brought to completion by a wonderful alpha dick rearranging his insides- every part of him is hot, buzzing so much it hurt. His alpha’s bite sends him over the edge and he cums with a groan so loud it rings in his own ears, shooting his seed into the ground beneath him.