saga/title/fandom: What Is Already Known (X-Men)

author: Janete (Jane & Te)

rating/genre: (NC-17) - romance

warnings: slash, heated sex sequences

summary: Star needs. That's novel enough to keep Rictor still.(Shatterstar/Rictor)

comments/disclaimers: If they were ours, Ric would look his age, and 'Star... well, 'Star would probably be just as screwed up. And gay.NC-17 for porn, porn, porn. Heh. Forgot we had this one for a while, lost it for a while longer. Te thought it was time we inflicted it on the world. Jane did not stop Te. Acknowledgments: To our libidos, without whom we would be nothing today.

So he just nods and sits up, waiting.

And 'Star starts taking off his clothes. All of them. Sets the sword harness aside, peels off the thin t-shirt that had been plastered to his chest. Not pulls off, not peels just because it was so wet with the sweat that's pretty much guaranteed that Ric's always gonna know Shatty's scent, peeled.

Exactly like some ripe fruit in an art movie, vivid and impossibly sensual.

The curl of 'Star's fingers, the almost-absent look in his eyes, and Ric knows, he knows what 'Star is doing, what 'Star is about to do, and he could stop this if he wanted to, and he does want to, even though that's a lie, because it needs to stay true --

'Star tugs the tie out of his hair, and all that red-gold hair falls over his shoulders and chest, humidity curling it at the ends. Damp and heavy and hot looking and Ric has the sudden image of his hands slipping beneath the weight of all that hair and just.

Lifting it.

He wants to see the relief of it on 'Star's face. Ric shakes it off and tries to focus, tries to think of something, anything he could possibly say here that would make sense. He doesn't have much faith in his ability to make an actual difference. There's nothing in his head but variations on the other man's name, though, and 'Star...

He has just the faintest sunburn on his legs. Pale skin and a lot of freckles. One of the few true redheads that Ric's met, and the only one who doesn't hide from the sun. There's something that could almost be a tan line on his belly, obvious when he holds the cut-offs open and hooks his thumb in his underwear.

Moment of an obvious, utterly unselfconscious pose before he slides the whole thing off and kicks it away, stands naked and white-red in front of Ric and waits to be acknowledged.


Which is apparently all he needed to say. Shatterstar nods to him softly, then pads across the room to the big, sprung old armchair in the corner. Faintly dusty and not matching anything else, but startlingly dark against the paleness of Star's body.

He slides down into it. Hooks a knee almost absently over one arm and rests a hand on his belly and stares at Rictor. Almost smiles.

"Julio." And 'Star's reaching a hand toward him, showing it to him. Palm and knuckle and fingertip.

And then he sucks two fingers into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering with pure... Something like pure heat, like 'Star and sex had suddenly decided to become one thing and Ric hadn't had any warning at all. (And that's not true, either)

Ric swallows, blinks as fast as he can, feeling like a kid with his eye to a keyhole, like at any moment someone In Authority will grab him by the scruff of the neck and yank him away from... this.

More wrong there than he wants to deal with, than maybe he can, but...

They're away from all of it now, aren't they?

And 'Star (needs this) wants to show him what he can do.

'Star running shiny-wet fingers down from his knee. In along his thigh, against the muscle's line, and then up across his belly. Dipping one fingertip into his navel in a slow, obvious... fuck.

Ric swallows, hisses in a breath as 'Star brings the hand up and catches a nipple between his fingertips, rolling it slowly into a hard point. Little twists in his body showing whenever it feels good.

Cock so utterly naked and blood-dark against his belly. That same ice-pale skin. Whispered, "Julio."

'Star shows him the hand again. Palm out, fingers spread. Not quite reaching.

Brings it up again and lays it against the base of his throat. Rubs up and down, very deliberately. Stops with the thumb touching that prominently vulnerable point. And squeezes.

Ric's spine snaps him upright before his muscles can follow, and it's all he can do not to go flying over there and rip Star's hand away. Holds off only because Star's watching him and trembling and so obviously aroused.

And in spite of the lack of air, he's got two fingers of the other hand in his mouth. Sucking them, obviously, making a show of it.

Eases up the thumb on his windpipe eventually to give those two digits his full attention. Pulls them out soaked and slick and shows them to Julio. Traces them through the air along his whole body, down between his legs.

Pauses just at his scrotum and whispers Rictor's name again. And reaches down and pushes them inside himself.

Long arch of his back and this twisted moan that tears out of him. Two fingers deep inside, fucking himself with them, still not touching his cock. The other's hand's away from his throat, finally, down on his chest twisting each nipple in turn.

He twists every time, every time, like it's better than he can believe.

Rictor leans forward. Gets his own jeans open and whispers, "Shatty," while he wraps his hand around his own cock. Gets rewarded when Shatty looks up at the name, half-smiles, and lifts the other leg up. Both of them hooked over the chair's arms, now, so wide apart that Ric could step in and fuck him and he wouldn't be able to resist.

Step in and... ay, Dios, his cock feels like a weapon in his fist, hard and hot and even knowing how fast he's going to come if he keeps it up like this isn't satisfying at all. Not with 'Star over there. All the way over there with those fingers still in him.

Making a show of it. Obvious stretching, making it clear not only that it feels good, but that it's empty every time he spreads his fingers apart, and that Rictor should come take him.

He doesn't. Strokes himself instead, watches Star gasp and shudder and whimper softly, only in the last seconds take his cock in hand and bring himself off, still with the two fingers fucking himself. Long, tangled arch of his body as he comes.

The sight is impossible to take in one look, not with how lost he is to his own ratcheting arousal. Red-gold hair seemingly everywhere, dark with sweat at 'Star's temples. Flash. 'Star's mouth, open on a near-silent cry. Flash and the judder of his cock in his fist and 'Star's hands are bigger than his own --

Flash. Those fingers. So fucking deep and he wants this.

Flash. Splatter of come on 'Star's chest and --

'Star's eyes open again, fixed on him. Steady. So fucking --

"'Star --"

Comes hard, shaking. Almost shivering. Squeezing his eyes shut so much too late that, eventually, he can feel how ridiculous it is. Open them again.

Wipe his sticky hand on the bedspread they've never used anyway and laugh a little. 'Star is watching him curiously, and doesn't close his own eyes even when Ric can finally go to him.

Even when Ric kisses him once, again. Ric watches 'Star right back until he starts to wonder which one of them is the sorta-alien body-switcher and laughs a little more. "Did that feel as good as it looked?" Star shakes his head, softly. "Then why do it?"

"For you." He reaches out one unsteady hand and strokes along Ric's cock where it presses out of his fly.

Ric leans in, kisses him hard. Holds his head tilted back and just takes his mouth. "Thank you." Kisses him again. Wonders about mating rituals on Mojoworld until hysteria threatens to bubble up and ruin the moment.

Touches the hole. It's still open, still slick, and his touch makes Star shudder gently under him. "I want to see you do that again."

"I don't know if I can. Julio, fuck me."

Just a second while he considers. "I want to see you."

He follows Star's eyes to the mess of their luggage lying on the floor. One long-handled hairbrush laying on top of the suitcase. And a smile that almost matches his. One more long kiss and a soft command, "Get on the bed. Belly down," and he goes to get it.

He crouches by the suitcase and picks up the brush. The handle's not impossibly long, not even quite as long as he is, but the shape's irregular, and it's hard. Ungiving in a way that flesh just isn't. Very smooth at the handle's end. On the bed, Shatterstar watches him fiercely.

And Ric joins him. Kneels behind him and kisses the small of his back, then bends and spits gently onto the hole. Wet and slick and he knows he's going to need lube for this, but he wants it to be just him, first. Two fingers in, stroking the soft flesh there, reaching for 'Star's prostate.

And Star's recovering. Slowly, but openly wanting, pushing his hips back. Repeating fuck me in all the languages they know.

There's slick under the bed, where he left it after the last time 'Star left him alone enough that he could jerk off. Not that it had made a difference. Not that he'd been fooling anyone at that point --

Jesus, and 'Star feels so good around him. Tight and hot on his fingers, alive like nothing else in this desert. Ric throws his leg over 'Star's and wishes he'd thought to be naked for this, wishes he could stay just like this, buried in him, so far away from rational thought that it has no chance of touching him ever again.

Leans overs and breathes on the back of 'Star's neck, licks at the shiver in the skin. "Is it what you wanted, amigo querido?"

'Star growls at him, bucks hard. "Deseo --"

Has to kiss him again, bite and whisper every promise he can think of all the way down the smoothly muscled expanse of back. Has to force himself not to think of everything he apparently has permission for, because he wants this.


And he doesn't want to know the why of that, either.

Ric grabs the brush with a shaky hand, bristles tickle-scracthing his palm as he slicks the stiff, cool handle. Not him. But he wants to see...

Pushes it in slow. Wide, rounded end that stretches 'Star open, then narrower, thicker in the other dimension. He can hear it the second he hits the right place inside. Holds the brush there for a minute and rubs hard against it. Hears 'Star scream into the pillow and twist and beg and push back.

Lets it go, finally, and pushes all the way in. Watches the strangeness of the shape register on 'Star, traces the hole while he waits for 'Star to settle into this. Makes him ask to be fucked.

And only then does. Short strokes, careful of the bristles and it isn't easy to hold, but Star's going nuts from it. Loves it. Moans for him and reaches back and strokes Ric's thigh. Asks desperately in Cadre and gets it, one more fingertip pushing in, stretching him open and going in just far enough to make him really feel it. Moving the handle from inside.

Finally, he's just sobbing. Loves this, wants this, and Ric's so hard from watching him. He can feel his own ass ache/want in sympathy, wants to touch his cock and hasn't got a hand for it. Fucks Star steadily and surely over the edge, pushing against his prostate and massaging him every way he can think of, making him rub his cock on the bed for the extra stimulation he needs. And right at the end pulls the handle out and drives three fingers in in place of it, stretches and holds and fucks Star until he's screaming, utterly gone and wanting and coming and shaking under Ric's hands.

Ric can't even breathe. Doesn't want to move, doesn't want to think, doesn't want to take his fingers out of their slick, tight haven, and 'Star is just lying there.

Pliant and still with something other than predatory almost-violence for once, and something about the way he's stretched out on the bed, something about the deep, uneven breaths just makes Ric ache in strange places. The insides of his arms and thighs. His jaw.

Like it will hurt to move, to touch 'Star more, but it's also the only thing that'll make it better.

Only he's hard as a rock, and it would be so easy to just ram in and fuck himself out in 'Star's body, and 'Star would love it, wants it, wants Ric's pleasure for himself and Ric gets that, it's just.

He aches.

Listens to the rush of his own blood in his ears and wants nothing, nothing more to lie right where 'Star is now, grind himself and slick himself in 'Star's come and spread wide open and feel what 'Star felt.

The brush off to the side and he knows it's still warm. From what he did and he wants it. Deep as it'll go and hard and so much less forgiving than 'Star could ever be, and he doesn't want to feel anything but the brush, and the bristles against his cheeks, and 'Star's strong, strong hands grinding and grinding him into the mattress.

'Star holding him down and making him take it, making him writhe and scream and pay for this, and ay chingame, chingame, 'Star please look at me and see this.

Just crouches there, waiting for him to turn. Raw when he does. Wanting and not being able to ask and fucking amazed that 'Star had the courage to ask for what he wanted. Feels a tentative, shaky hand rubbing his thigh and wants to clamp it around his balls.

Instead just takes off his shirt and holds it against his chest. Maybe because it's not the same if he has to ask for it. Wants 'Star to just. Know.

Slick thumb on the head of his cock, rubbing him. 'Star's come mixing with his own pre-come, gentle and demanding and such a tease all in that one spot.

He can do this, at least. Catches 'Star's wrist with one hand and pushes it down, uses his other hand to push his jeans down so they can reach, touch him behind his balls, push that thumb against his own ass. Silently demanded, fuck me.

And Star nods. Visibly pulls himself together and rolls to his knees and strips Rictor's jeans off. Pushes hard with the slicked thumb, holding Ric's shoulder to steady him. Gets it in and keeps pushing, deep into him, holding him open and using every other finger to rub his balls and perineum.

Kisses him. "On your belly, Julio. Lie down for me."

In the same, still-warm place, slick at his groin. 'Star spreads his legs with both hands, far enough apart that it burns faintly. And slicks him. On his hole and shallowly in it. The thumb or a single finger. Refusing to stretch him. Ric can hear the cursory/careful sounds of 'Star wiping down, then re-slicking the brush handle and shivers.

Again at the cool feel of it rubbing against his hole for long moments, teasing at the opening and giving him a sense of exactly how wide that first part is.

And pushes it in with his thumb alongside, making it wide and thick and stretching him as desperately as anything ever has in his life. 'Star's hands are huge. And the thumb stays in, slides along the shaft as it pushes farther in. Forces acknowledgement from him.

"'Star --"

A kiss where Ric's back and ass meet. Whispers, "Are you ready, Julio?"


Laughter. And then 'Star twists his thumb and rubs the brush handle down forward against his prostate.

Fuck. Fuck. It's hard, harder than any human flesh, harder than fingers or cock or tongue, impossible to ignore and pushing insistently at his cock from inside. The sensation wraps around the stretch at his hole, rips important parts of his brain out and leaves him a moaning, twisting wreck.

And Star fucks him. Slowly at first, careful of the newness of this and the hardness in him, and slowed by the thumb holding him open. Then withdraws it, rolls Ric's balls in his hand instead, and fucks him. Fast and ruthless and deep, deeper than he would have thought it could go, bristles scraping at his skin at the deepest points.

He howls when Star changes the angle. Tugs the handle up and fucks him almost vertically.

And Ric is scrambling, trying to get up on his knees, close his legs, run away, something, but 'Star, Dios, 'Star has one big hand at the base of his spine and is. Holding him down.

Pushing him down and he can't see 'Star's face and he has no idea what he could look like. What he would look like with this... this forcing that's exactly what Ric needs. Steady, ruthless fuck, so damned unforgiving --

"'Star --"

"Julio, yes..."

Crying out now and there are tears at the corners of his eyes and he's so close to sobbing and he's so helpless and so fucking afraid because 'Star has him and he's never ever letting go.

Some kind of shift behind him, and he feels Star's leg between his. Feels the thigh catch the brush and brace it, shift it by moving, holding it up there so it can't move off the sweet place inside him. Suddenly both hands on him. One reaching under for his cock, so that he has to lift his ass a bit, one reaching under to torture his nipples. Rough and loving and intense on a level he hasn't believed in until now.

Like if he begged 'Star to stop now, right now, he maybe wouldn't. Just wouldn't be able to, and he'd keep touching and stroking and pinching and pulling and working Ric, making him make these sounds that are killing him.

It brings him off suddenly, in this blast of pleasure he doesn't feel coming. From his nipples to his ass and then out to his cock. Screaming from the shock of it as much as anything, and trying to muffle it before someone kicks the door down to see who's being murdered. Just collapses at the end of it, all the strength gone from his body. Feels 'Star kiss him, pull the brush out carefully, and then lay down beside him.

Half on top of him. Kissing the side of his face and whispering how beautiful Ric is and how much he loves him.

Just one more agonizingly painless explosion in a brain that can't possibly handle many more.

'Star strokes him until he feels something like human again. And stays close after that, just rolls over so that Ric can climb on top of him.

Still daylight outside, which he almost can't believe. All the linear patterns are stripped out of his brain, and he's stuck on the warmth in his body and the low-grade ache and the taste of his... lover's mouth.

Ric curls in closer, tangles their legs and hums something too close to a purr for complete comfort while 'Star rubs his back. This is one of those things he should be afraid of, being stripped down this far, but he can't quite remember how to be.

Like he left that ability on his bed in San Francisco. It would have been impossible to stay with X-Force and have this. Not just because of the others watching them; he wouldn't be able to walk around without armor, and he needs not to have it.

At least for now.

He's not afraid. He's not. Even if he feels as stripped right now as he did when they hauled him out of the Right's machine, when he could barely keep from screaming. Even if he's sure he's going to crack open, or just crack the world.

'Star kisses him. Cradles his head on his shoulder. And doesn't ask for anything.

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