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"Get a room, you two," John says. "Hell, use this one."
He's sick and tired of watching them. Bobby and Rogue are sitting on Bobby's bed, doing that longing gazes, no touching thing again, and it's making it impossible for John to concentrate on his homework. It's like they have no imagination, either of them. It's like Bobby's learned nothing from any of the porn John has shown him.
Rogue glares and Bobby makes a sad puppy face.
John stands up and walks across the room. He grabs Rogue's upper arm. She raises a hand to swat at him and then stops. John counts to ten silently while both Bobby and Rogue stare at his hand on her clothed arm. She's wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, thin gloves, leggings, pointy boots, a long flowing skirt, and a scarf over her hair. No skin showing anywhere except her face.
"See? Not dead." John moves his hand to her side, slides his fingers up across her ribs and cups her breast. "And still not dead." He grins. She has nice breasts.
"I'll make sure you are if you don't let go of me, Pyro." Rogue doesn't actually sound very mad as she says it, in John's opinion. She's looking up at his face now, though, so he grins wider and removes his hand.
"You can do a lot of stuff with clothes on, Bobby, my boy," he says, as Bobby looks up at him, too. "There are also these things called latex gloves, dental dams, even vibrators. Or..." He reaches out and grabs Bobby's wrist, turns his palm up, spreads his fingers out. "Ice for me." Not that he's jealous of Bobby's ability to actually create the ice, nope.
Bobby stares at him firmly. He's so gorgeous. His blue eyes, his smile. He's not smiling now. John's screwed, got the hots for his best friend, his roommate, the one with a girlfriend. In love with him.
A little ball of ice forms in the palm of Bobby's hand. John strokes up the outside of Bobby's finger, down the inside, sliding his fingertip lightly along Bobby's skin. Bobby's eyes widen. "All along here."
"You're crazy," Bobby says. A thin film of ice creeps up his fingers and covers his whole hand. The edges of it brush John's hand around his wrist.
John raises Bobby's icy hand to Rogue's bare cheek. She flinches back but John presses after. All three of them shiver.
Nothing else happens.
Releasing Bobby's wrist, John turns his back and starts to walk toward the door. "Have fun experimenting."
Someone stands up and takes a few slow steps after him. "Wait. John." It's Rogue's voice, but when John turns to look, it's Bobby standing just behind him. John narrows his eyes, trying to look fierce and uninterested. "Kiss him for me," Rogue continues. "I want to see it." She's looking right at John as she speaks, saying it to him.
What right does she think she has to order him around, to tease him like that, to act like she knows anything about him?
But it's what he wants to do anyway, so he grabs Bobby's face, spins them around into profile for Rogue, and kisses his best friend.
Bobby gasps under his lips and opens up when John presses his tongue in. He puts his hands on John's arms, his right hand still cold but no longer covered in ice. The inside of his mouth feels hotter in comparison, and it's so good, better than any of John's fantasies have ever been.
"Sometimes you're dumb, too," Rogue says. John ignores her and just slides his hand around the back of Bobby's neck, probes deeper with his tongue. "C'mon back here, boys," she adds. Bobby starts to drag John toward the bed and John follows.
What the hell, getting just a taste of what he wants can't be worse than not getting it at all, right?