Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Psycho B, who was really losing patience with me for introducing the Kurt factor into her beloved Pietrance. I just think that Kurt belongs with those two, because everybody deserves a happy ending. We had that nice long talk about happy endings, PB, so you know what I mean. Anyway, happy birthday, Psycho B! ::hugs::
Disclaimer: The following fanfic is set after the episode Joyride. It is slash erotica, and therefore not for the eyes of anyone under the age of 18 or otherwise offended by such subject matter. X-men Evolution is the property of Marvel Comics and the WB. Believe me, if I owned 'em, then the show would be one Helluva lot different.
Recommended Musical Accompaniment: For All Time by Soluna
Drowning by The Backstreet Boys
When The Joyride Ends
By Lady Eternal
It was still early when Lance returned to the manse. Pietro was likely to be the only one there; Todd and Fred and Tabitha usually made half-hearted attempts at attendance, whereas the speedster honestly didn't care. Lance had to drag him to school kicking and struggling most of the time� although Pie hadn't missed his chance to vent his spleen when Lance had defected. I'd rather face Pietro than any of the others anyway. They act like I have to take care of them, but they never have to give back�
Walking in, he heard the sound of rummaging in he kitchen. Knowing he'd never creep past thermo across the squeaky hardwood floor, Lance just entered the front hall as if it were an ordinary day. Sure enough, a snowy head popped out of the refrigerator, followed by a graceful hand containing the orange juice carton.
For a moment, Pietro wanted to fly into Lance's arms, to welcome him home and give him every reason he needed to stay. He couldn't. He didn't know why Lance was here yet. Opting instead for his trademark cocky attitude, Pietro pasted a smirk on his face as he closed the fridge. "Knew you'd be back."
An instant of blind fury went through Lance. The house shook under his feet, his expression stony. Pieto stumbled a bit, managing to right himself before he went sprawling. As the tremor subsided, he looked up to see Lance turn and walk upstairs. Pietro Maximoff might not have regularly attended school, but he was far from stupid. Lance's lack of vocal reply was telling, as was his little seismic epithet. Biting his lip for a moment, Pietro replaced the juice in the fridge and followed Lance upstairs. "Lance?"
"What?" Almost contemptuously, Lance tossed this bag down on the bed.
"I� are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay. After all, they didn't beat me or starve me or perform medical experiments on me. They just didn't care. I'm used to that by now." Why the last came out, Lance wasn't sure. It's not like he cares, anyway� Goddamn, I'm tired of people not caring.
"You expected anything else from them?"
The drawer Lance was shoving clothes into slammed closed. It took Lance a minute to realize he'd done it. "I don't know what I expected. I just needed to find� fuck, I don't know." He turned; forcing his hurt away and just letting his anger show through. "Why the Hell do you care anyway? I went, it sucked; I came back. Apparently, you knew how it would play, so what the Hell do you care about why?"
The venom in Lance's voice took Pietro aback. Under normal circumstances, he would have left; but he did care about Lance� more than he ever had about Evan� "You're upset."
"I'll get over it."
"I don't like seeing you so upset."
A tremor went through Lance, rippling through the house. "Then don't look."
"I can't."
Just the sweet, soft tones of Pietro's voice made Lance's eyes water. He blinked against the burn of incipient tears. "Why?"
"Because I didn't want to be right, Lance."
The laugh that passed Lance's lips was hollow, mirthless. "You didn't want to be right?"
"No, I didn't." Pietro took a step towards him. "I want you to be happy, Lance."
"That'd be a first," Lance replied bitterly.
"That I'd want you to be happy?"
"My being happy, period."
A surge of empathy swept Pietro and he stepped forward, reaching out to put a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Lance�"
He didn't get to finish he thought. In a flash, the words were swept from his tongue by Lance's as those soft, perfect lips captured his. Lance's strong hands gripped almost painfully at his forearms, as if afraid Pietro would pull away. Pietro wanted to wrap himself close, to banish that fear, but that grip held him firmly not quite half an arm's length away. Lance's lips left his and Pietro made a soft noise of protest. "Tell me not to," Lance commanded hoarsely. God, his lips are sweet�
"Why?" Pietro's eyes blinked open, confusion flickering in their azure depths.
"Because if you don't, I swear you won't sit down for a week." Every fiber in Lance's body felt tight, charged� if he didn't let loose on Pietro, he'd probably tear a fissure right through Bayville. Barely, he relaxed his grip on those slender arms�
Which proceeded to snake tightly around his neck. Pietro's whole body surged up into his, those slim, succulent lips colliding openly with his own. "I hate sitting still, anyway," came Pietro's husky, cocksure reply.
Lance could barely breathe. It seemed too good to be true. Blindly, he turned to the bed and tumbled Pietro down to the mattress. The old boxspring squealed in protest, but the only thing Lance seemed to hear was the little sigh of want as he drew Pietro's lower lip between his, suckling gently. And yet something changed with that little sigh. Suddenly, Lance didn't want to just fuck Pietro senseless, to vent his hurt and his rage on that delectably willing derriere. He wanted Pietro squirming, pleading� wanted the speedster to kiss him and cling to him� Lance wanted to make love to the snowy-haired beauty; to make love for the first time in his lonely life.
A series of long, slow, deep kisses made Pietro's toes curl. Lance's body covered his, cloaking him in warmth and the scent of bayberries. He hadn't expected this� not from Lance� but, oh Gods, it was Heavenly� "Lance?"
"Yeah, Pie?"
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
Lance could only smile, brushing those adorable, flyaway tendrils from his face. He knew exactly what Pietro meant. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't be here, Pie." His mouth lowered again, angling slightly on descent to brush over the tender underside of Pietro's jaw. The soft gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement Lance needed to gently nip at the hollow of his pulse. "And I can't think of anyplace I'd rather be."
Pietro's only response was a low cry of need. His fingers laced up into Lance's hair as he pressed up against that long, solid frame, needing� Lance just kept right on kissing him, nibbling and suckling on the tender flesh of his throat until Pietro was ready to go up in flames just from the exquisite torture of hose soft lips brushing over his flesh; of denim and silk confining his now-raging arousal� "Lance, please�"
"Begging already, Pie?" Lance teased warmly. Those lips closed over Pietro's earlobe and suckled; Pietro's whole body jumped and shivered. "I've barely even started."
"La-a-ance�" Pietro whimpered.
"Easy, Pietro. I plan on taking my time with you."
Pietro whimpered again, rising against Lance and tugging at his shirt. "Lance, please� please, I need you naked."
For a moment, Lance didn't seem to hear him; Pietro moaned as Lance's mouth dipped to his collarbone and suckled. He nipped the spot with his front teeth as he did so, sending hot sparks through Pietro's blood. Only then did he rise away.
The sudden absence of warm talented lips caused Pietro's eyes to open. Lance was slowly stripping above him; Pietro shivered as that deeply tanned, well-muscled frame was sensually bared to his gaze, and as his eyes devoured the image of his beloved, other details began to register. A slight unevenness to that broad ribcage. Scars, some thin, some jagged; all slightly paler than the rest of his flesh. Pietro's heart leaped in concern at the sight of such abuse, his hands reaching out to brush lightly over the remnants of an obviously violent past.
Watching Pietro trace a particularly jagged scar with his pale, slender fingers, Lance shuddered even as he smiled tenderly. "At least the X-geeks don't use guns," he jested softly. "That one almost paralyzed me." Those beautiful azure eyes suddenly filled with pain; Lance reached down, running his thumb over that quivering lower lip. "That's life on the street, love. Rival gang members don't care about politics or mutant powers; it doesn't matter to them that your parents were junkies or abusive bastards or just didn't care if you lived or died, 'cause theirs didn't either. All that matters is turf, because turf means money, and money means keeping the electricity or the heat or the water on for another month."
Compassion welled up in Pietro's soul; he'd never realized that Lance's past had been so filled with base survival instinct� so little hope� rising up to his knees, he wrapped his arms around Lance's torso. He felt Lance's erection brush against his hips and shivered, pressing a soft, open kiss to the ribbon scar just above that dark nipple. Lance groaned in response, reaching down and pulling Pietro's shirt off. Pietro let him, trailing kisses over his beloved's scars, suckling here and there on the sensitive flesh� Finally, Lance tumbled him back, stripping him of his pants and boxers, his nails scraping lightly over Pietro's sensitive thighs and drawing out another impassioned cry�
Where Lance got the salve from, Pietro didn't know. Obviously, somewhere in his past, Lance had learned the wisdom of keeping it handy. All Pietro knew was that one of those long, nimble fingers was massaging the tight ring of muscle between the taut globes of his ass� sliding inside to massage the flesh within� Pietro couldn't breathe; begging incoherently for Lance to impale him with more than his finger as his lover slowly stroked it back and forth�
And then he did. Pietro gasped for air, his body arching and his legs jumping around Lance's waist as Lance slipped between his legs and slowly up into his body� Pietro cried and trembled and moaned, his fingers digging deeply into Lance's back� the impression of scar tissue there as well was lost as Lance sank to the hilt, filling him so completely that Pietro nearly came from the possession alone.
Lance reveled in the utter, honest abandon of his lover� his beloved. Pietro writhed and arched beneath him with an artless passion that Lance felt unworthy of experiencing; the snug, hot, deep fit of Pietro's body over his own made his blood simmer. Lance was hard-pressed to maintain the leisurely pace he wanted; his own lust was riding him as hard as Pietro's, the emotional baggage of the day making it harder to stay in this for the marathon he'd wanted� Pietro whimpered, needing release� tightening his entire body on Lance's�
Lance exploded without warning, barely conscious of the fact that Pietro had climaxed with him. It was almost unreal, how Pietro had managed to bring him to a peak so quickly, but Lance didn't really want to think about it. Giving himself a moment to bring his senses back to themselves, Lance carefully left Pietro and rolled onto his side. To his joy, the mischievous waif snuggled instinctively into his arms. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Lance murmured softly.
"Probably about as long as I have," Pietro replied, nestling happily into Lance's long, sleek body. He's built like a Greek statue� and he's all mine� "I've� really missed you, Lance. I'm glad you're home."
The word was spoken casually; Lance knew that Pietro could have no real understanding of the wealth of meaning that particular word held for the brunette. And yet hearing it, Lance couldn't help thinking that home wasn't this ramshackle manse where the Brotherhood made its home. Home was right here: in the arms of the snowy-haired Roma that had captured his heart. It wasn't quite perfect; Lance knew there was something missing, but he dismissed it for now. He was home. "Me too, Pie� me, too."
A/N: Are you happy now, Psycho B? You have two lovely Pietrance stories for your birthday� Happy 20th!
