Fic: Heart of the Inferno
Jonothon Starsmore had spent the greater part of his day at his job, and coming home to the cops busting a domestic dispute at the apartment down the hall was just his luck. The neighbour boys had spent the last two days hollering at each other and loudly making up again, and Jono was sick of it. He had been pulling double duty for nearly two weeks to be able to keep up with his bills; Angelo was in between jobs again, and the Brit was supporting them both. It was an annoying habit of Angelo’s really, but Jonothon did not say anything about it. Ange had his problems with being bossed around and he never finished high school. Those two issues combined with the fact that he had the ability to look like a puddle of grey mush on his bad days did not help his chances any.
It wasn’t like there was much motivating him to work either. The place they lived in was a total dump and was hardly worth the price. They were located in the club district of Chelsea, and between the loud music and late night drunken fights, noise was one of the least of their concerns. They only had to buy food for one, and yet even after all the bills were paid they had to scrounge to feed Angelo. The heat was on and off depending on the time of the year, and there was a strange smell that always seemed to make its way in from the corridor. It was sort of a cross between kitty litter and old cheese.
Jonothon was lucky that his boss, Mrs. Lancaster, was a patient woman. She would give him cash advances when he needed them, and the odd day he requested off to keep an eye on Ange when he was having one of those bad headaches of his. She knew that he was a young man, an immigrant mutant, struggling to support himself in the big city. The older woman was almost like a mother to him, but that did not come without its consequences. Mrs. Lancaster was in her seventies and Jono found himself picking up most of the duties at the store. She had a bad knee and an even worse case of glaucoma, and there was just too much that she couldn’t do for herself anymore. Jono was not particularly patient himself, but the extra tasks led to longer hours and more cash, so he had to bite the bullet and accept it.
The problem was that it left him tired. He subconsciously ached by the time he came home, and when he got there, the clubs outside were just opening and coming to life. There was no silence outside his building, nor was there silence inside with the constant fighting going on. The worst, though, was when he came home to a dark apartment. All of the lights were out and the door was locked, indicating Angelo had gone out for some fun. Still, dishes were piled in the sink and the tap left dripping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Loud and echoing throughout the tiny room, it pulsed through his brain and added to the headache already picking at him.
Of course, clothing was still strewn all over the floor, and the sheets on the bed and couch were balled up in a tangled, unmade mess. Their apartment consisted of only two rooms - a bathroom, and their combined living room/bedroom/kitchen. It was not as though walking around the place and cleaning it would even take a long time, but still. It was not done. It never got done. And it never seemed to really bother Jono until he was walking through the door at the end of the night and just wanting to sit down.
Another loud yell from outside the apartment door disrupted him from his thoughts, and he quickly gave one last annoyed look around the room before dropping his backpack to the floor. His coat and boots soon joined the mess, and he stepped over the sorry excuse for a coffee table to approach the window. It was warm in the room, and the pane had been locked shut. The volume of the night’s events increased when it was opened, but Jono was much too satisfied with the evening breeze to worry too much about it.
He was always hot. It was strange, really, because inwardly it did not bother him. When most normal people were cold they shivered, and when they were hot they sweat. The inside of his body was like a furnace though, and temperature did not have too much of an affect on his functioning. Only the surface of his skin. Heat made him feel itchy and uncomfortable. Angelo liked it because Jono was good for keeping the place warm when they needed it, but it didn’t do too much for himself.
Brown eyes watched the traffic below silently before he decided to rid himself of his work shirt. He grabbed the bottom hem with both hands, and just managed to catch a piece of bandage as he pulled it off over his head. A dull light exposed itself to reflect off the window pane, and the glare made Jono blink subconsciously. Instead of fixing it though, he tugged it down and removed the charcoal black coverings. They fell off in long, thin pieces and looped around his feet on the floor, sagging over each other in a messy pile. The bright orange glow of the flames within him intensified as he exposed them, and for just a moment it felt good to relieve himself of the confined energy. Heat licked around the mangled areas of his cheeks and danced in the air around his face and belly.
The reflection in the window pane gave off the illusion that New York was burning.
Sometimes, just once in awhile, he wondered what it would be like to witness the heat from someone else’s eyes. To have to smell the smoke it produced and even cough at the intrusion of his lungs. Of course, he had experienced such things before becoming a mutant, but his childhood was so far behind him that it remained only a lonely memory. Pictures in his mind that he associated with emotions, but could not for the life of him recall the finer details. The smell, the air, the taste. It was almost as if they never existed at all; he was twenty-two years old and nine years of being a mutant felt like an entire lifetime.
Even after a lifetime, he could still peer through that reflection - that illusion of a burning city in the window - and see the monstrous sight of his own two eyes buried deep within the image as the heart of it all. Two brown, expressive orbs that were the only visible sparks of life he had left. Every gesture, expression, and emotion was brought forth by them. They were everything -all he had.
Well, almost.
The dim silhouette of his two closest friends became visible down the street. They were walking on the sidewalk arm in arm, laughing about something…probably ridiculous. Jubilee was carrying a shopping bag at her side while Angelo was waving his arm around to emphasize whatever exaggerated tale he was telling her. They looked like they were having fun. Relaxed. Awake. Alive.
Jono just felt dead.
He reached his hand up and through the cackling flames erupting from his chest to place down on the window sill as he watched them. Eyes followed each and every detailed movement they made as his mind raced. And he was silent. The room was so silent. Inside his space there was nothing but dead quiet, and out there, with them, the world looked and sounded so alive.
They were bursting with life. All he burst with was monstrous energy.
They were so happy whenever he was not around to drag them down, and the fact tugged at his non-existent heart. Sure, Angelo had his mopey moments too, but compared to Jonothon he was practically a children’s book character. Then when he was with Jubilee…well, to Jono it was almost like they acted like no one else existed. They laughed and touched and did not worry about a thing in the world. Not the bills or the lack of food. Not the dirty clothes. Not the smelly apartment. Not the lack of job. The domestic disputes, the heat, the mess, or aching feet…just each other.
And from his place two stories above he watched as they parted ways. She dropped her bag next to their feet and wrapped her tiny arms around his shoulders. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer. Their lips met briefly and chastely, but it was enough. A kiss…lips pressed together to touch and to taste. To express emotions…feelings.
Something he could never do for either of them. He supposed that it was good that they at least had each other to do such things with, but that did not make it hurt any less. Sure they could press their lips against his face and hands and other areas of his body, but he could never do that to them. He could never show his love or make them feel loved.
Jono stepped away from the window and bent down to the floor to grab his bandages. As quickly as he had pulled them off he had them tied back on and hiding the hell within him. He hid the mangled skin and the dangerous heat - the hole that devoured the inside of him. Tight and snug and closing him off from the world once more. Wearing just his bandages and jeans he stood in the middle of the floor staring down at his body. Glaring down. Hating.
“Hey, amigo,” Angelo muttered as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He was alone now, and the beaming smile he had on before was gone. “Just get home?”
‘Yes,’ came the stoic telepathic reply.
“Oh,” Angelo mumbled as he pulled out of his coat and dropped it to the floor in a heap. “Bad day?”
‘No.’
“You look mad,” the Mexican pointed out.
‘How can yer even tell?’
An incredulous sigh came out of Angelo’s mouth then, and he shook his head as he stomped toward the fridge. Pulling it open, his eyes wandered down the empty shelves irritably before he slammed it shut again. He flipped on the tap and let the water run for a few seconds before leaning down and drinking straight out of it. When he came back up he had a few stray drops on his lips, but quickly batted them away. He did not give Jono a second glance as he plopped down to sit on the mattress. Annoyed again he was at the Brit’s moping, Jonothon supposed.
‘Where were ya t’night?’
Angelo’s eyes darted around the room before he cleared his throat. “Obviously not here cleaning like I shoulda been, right? And, no, I wasn’t out looking for a job either.”
‘So where were ya?’
“With Jubilee.”
‘Oh.’
Angelo’s expression softened then; the strict control of his facial skin allowed for Jono to easily see the troubled look on his face. “She said-- she told me to say hello to you.”
‘The gel didn’t wanna come up?’ Jono folded his arms over his bandaged chest and willed away that pang of insecurity once more.
“Nah, told me she even didn’t want me followin’ her around tonight. Said she had plans with some other chicas, or something. They even tried to get Illyana to go, but she told them to go to hell,” Angelo smirked slightly and finally peered back up at Jono. “I’m actually surprised she didn’t toss them there for a couple of minutes just to scare them. Jubes was bein’ a bit of a jerk to her.”
‘I see.’
“We didn’t really even do anything tonight,” Ange began on the fast paced explanation that always seemed to come whenever two of them did something without the third, and it was those moments that Jono wondered why they even let stuff like this go on in the first place. “We went down to the bar to hang out, but Ric was bein’ an asshole ‘cause he broke a light or something. I don’t know what he was even tryin’ to say between all that cussing. We just played some pool and left, you know? Hit the mall for like an hour…”
‘Yer don’t have t’explain,’ Jono rolled his eyes.
“Well I wouldn’t feel the need to if you didn’t look mad!” Angelo defended.
‘I’m not mad!’
“You are too! I can tell by the look on your face!” Angelo paused and waved his hand dismissively at the mistake. “Your eyes. I can tell by your eyes. And the way you’re standing.”
Jono blinked back his irritation and ruffled his hands through his hair. ‘I’m goin’ to bed.’
“Already!? I just got home! What the…you don’t even have to sleep!”
‘Mental exhaustion, luv. I don’t have to sleep, but I like to! And I have to be up early,’ Jono just huffed and slunk down into the couch irritably. The piece of furniture creaked under his weight, and he struggled with the dirty black sheet to cover himself. ‘Shut off the light whenever you’re ready.’
“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” Angelo sighed.
‘Because that’s your bed. This is my couch, so I sleep on it.’
“I’m not even fighting about this with you again tonight, esé. Dios, sometimes I wish I get you, ya know that?” the grey skinned mutant sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. Jono rolled over to face the back of the couch as Angelo began to change, and after a few moments the light flicked off. The mattress groaned as Angelo crawled across it, and soon after silence enveloped the apartment once again. The sounds of outside - livelihood - took over, but Skin did not let it last long. “Are you sure there’s nothin’ wrong, hombre?”
Jono blinked into the darkness and curled his fingers around his blanket. ‘I’m just sick a fightin’ with ya over her, Ange. It’s not right.’
There was a long pause before the Mexican spoke again. “Whoever said I was fighting for her?”
‘Angelo…’
“Don’t even say it. I know how you are and how you act and how you feel…I’ve heard it a million times. I saw it a million times,” a low, bitter laugh sounded through the darkness, and it made Jono ache in places he did not even want to think about. “You wanna sulk up there all by yourself, cabron, go for it. But I didn’t come home early tonight just to start this fuckin’ Jubilee shit with you.”
‘Well maybe yer shouldn’t a come home early. I have t’sleep so yer just gonna have t’sit in the dark by yourself anyways, mate. I’m sure there’s a million other things ya could be doing.’
“It’s still early! The least you coulda done was said hello and watched some tube with me…just for an hour, or something!”
‘I gotta work in the morning!’ Jono’s psychic projection increased its volume.
“You always work!”
‘Well one of us has to!’ he snapped and finally sat up to face the general direction of his friend’s voice. ‘Would ya rather be livin’ on the streets again!?’
Angelo did not reply. Instead, Jonothon caught sight of a massive stretch of hand flying through the dark and straight at him. The warm flesh wrapped around both of the Brit’s thighs and dragged him, a blanket, and a couch cushion to the floor with one forceful tug. Thankfully the landing was easy considering the foot of the mattress laid adjacent to the sofa, but Jono was no less peeved about it. Angelo could be a real jerk when he wanted to be.
‘Wut the bloody hell do ya think yer doin’!?’
“Shut up,” Angelo grumbled and slid his body under Jono’s blanket. “Sulk all you want, be a dick, I don’t care. You can sleep on the damn bed.”
‘Angelo…’
“I said shut your trap,” he hissed in his ear. Jono just nodded and let his head sink into the ratty old pillow they shared. It was hot under the blankets already, but for some reason he could not bring himself to contest Angelo curling his body along his back. The stretched out skin slowly loosened its grip, and the Mexican brought his hand up to knead along Jono’s shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry the place was mess, okay? And I know you’re all pissed about me not working, and I messed up. I know that. I’ll try and be less of a bum from now on.”
‘I don’t think yer a bum,’ Jono projected, and straightened his neck fully to expose more shoulder to Angelo. There was not much for him to work with considering a lot of that area of his body had been damaged too, but the stretchy mutant worked his fingers along what was there like a cat digging into a scratch post. Painful knots and exhausted muscle loosened under never ending amounts of helpful fingers, and Jono could not help but set aside his former annoyance. Even the feel of Skin rubbing along the backs of his biceps was nice, and he slunk further into the mattress.
“Better?” Ange whispered against the back of his ear.
Jono just nodded and did not say a word.
“Good,” he murmured and pressed his lips against the soft flesh behind Jono’s earlobe. The shaggy tuffs of the Brit’s hair shifted and flopped over his forehead as Angelo moved around the side of his head just kissing and taking care of him. And strangely, Jono’s earlier regrets of not being able to do it back subsided as he allowed himself to settle down and accept Angelo giving him what he could not have. Hesitantly, Jonothon raised his hand to grab at the body behind him, finding the waxy feeling flesh of his friend’s neck. A strange sort of grunt escaped Ange’s lips at the contact, and he pressed himself tighter against Jono’s back.
Every contour of his body could be felt against him, despite the fact that Jonothon was still relatively covered. Neither of them needed to be nude for Chamber to be able to feel the erection pushing against the small of his back. It did not stay there long, however. Angelo wiggled away and turned Jono around so that he was lying on his back. Brown eyes stared down at him amusedly, but the sight of them gave the Brit a sort of ache. So badly he just wished he could reach out and kiss his lips. It was times like that, alone and in the dark and just together that the absence of such affection was the worst. So many times he had leaned in fully prepared to do so, actually being stupid enough to forget that he could not.
Ange always tried so hard to assure him that it was okay - that he didn’t mind. But no reassurance could ever give him the self confidence he lacked. It was not easy losing parts of himself, obviously, but he tried. He tried so damn hard not to bring the mood down about it because that was a hell of a lot worse than not being able to do it. But Angelo just smirked down at him as he always did, and pressed his lips against one of Jonothon’s eyebrows. Slowly and articulately he moved down to his eyelashes, to his nose, and then over to his cheekbone. Warm, moist touches that left a giddy sort of tingling in Jono’s face.
Through the tender touching, the unmistakable feel of stretchy fingers began to walk teasingly down Jono’s torso, through the sparse hair on his lower belly, and down to the button of his pants. Chamber could not help but arch his back up and into the hand just waiting for it to slide its way inside.
“Well, I hope you ain’t too tired,” Angelo hummed and wrapped himself in Jono’s arms as his free hand got business like under his pants. “I don’t think I can stop now.”
‘Yer don’t have to…’
“Good, ‘cause I think ya woulda had a fight on your hands, amigo,” he smiled and traced his lips along the curve of Jono’s bicep. He slunk lower and lower, making sure not to miss a single place. A small and very tiny tip of tongue roamed along his pulse points and around the inside of his elbow. Further down, he circled around Jono’s forearm and then gently sucked on the wrist bone between his arm and hand. Jonothon let his eyes flutter closed at the attention, and then promptly tossed his head back into the pillow when Ange finally got those pants pushed down around his thighs. Heat rushed through the Brit like electric light, consuming him and tempting him to just sprawl out and expose himself completely.
Angelo helped him do just that. He snaked his hands around the top of his pants and removed them before settling between Jono’s thighs. ‘Ange…’
“Usted es lindo, cariño,” he told him, again in that melodic, but assuring tone. Jono was still unaware of some of the meanings behind the words Angelo spoke in his native language, but he found it so much more emotional and downright sincere when he said them.
‘Ange…’
“Sssh,” he hissed, and laid down on his stomach. The distinct ridge of the Mexican’s nose made its way up the side of Jono’s cock. Angelo breathed in heavily, as though he were taking in the scent completely. Just the hot air escaping his lips and the slight moisture his lips left along the front of Jono’s underwear made him stiffer. Like that life - that bursting, energizing life that Angelo was so full of - filled Jono. It warmed him and he wanted more. But Angelo was still teasing. Despite Jonothon’s legs spreading further and his back arching up, the Mexican did not remove those briefs.
‘C’mon, sunshine, please…’ Jono pleaded.
Angelo just nuzzled his nose in again, nipping at the base of Jonothon’s cock through the fabric. Hips bucked at the feel, but the grey skinned man wasn’t done having his fun. His mouth moved down to the balls below to continue his assault there. Jono projected out a loud moan at the feel, and clutched the bed sheets tightly in his fists. Those sneaky fingers were still playing their game around the elastic of his underwear, but Angelo wanted to roam. To tease. To just make Jono relax and rid himself of the day’s stress.
It worked. The day’s stress was long gone and replaced with the unrelenting urge to just be touched. His dick was hard and at attention, tenting his briefs up and out toward his stomach, and he wasn’t sure he could take any more of this. One of his hands found the back of Angelo’s head, and he tangled his fingers in the dark locks there. Ange twisted at the small contact, and finally started tugging down Jono’s underwear. He lifted the thin legs up in the air until the fabric was gone, and the second he was given the chance his mouth was there. Swallowing Jono and enveloping him in tight warmth.
‘Oh Jesus…’ he groaned.
Angelo just hummed around his dick, lips sucked beneath his teeth as his head bobbed freely along the hard shaft. Fingers were still roaming, feeling around Jono’s thighs and behind his knees, and back up again to play with the protruding hip bones above. The wonderful thing about Angelo’s powers was that he was allowed to touch everywhere at once, and sometimes Jono felt as though he just drowned in attention. Care and tender touches that made him want to melt into a puddle right there on the mattress and disappear forever.
And Skin never grew bored. He just moved himself wherever he fit, whimpering and mumbling hungrily as he sucked him. The cool metal of his rosary tapping against the cheeks of Jono’s ass and making him shiver all over again. A symbol of Angelo’s beliefs so proudly worn and followed - except for with Jono. Doing this. It was the only time the Brit knew that Ange made the exception of straying from his values, and that both saddened and excited Chamber.
Angelo would throw everything away for this, and yet they had never spoken the fact out loud.
“Madre de Dios,” Skin panted breathily as he pulled back to press a kiss against the side of Jono’s thigh. The Mexican shook his head of the cobwebs and refocused his concentration on his powers before finally gaining the courage to remove his wifebeater and boxers. Even in the dark, Angelo had his own insecurities, and it made Jono wonder if that was how he felt every time the Brit got self conscious about his own appearance. Ange usually did an excellent job of keeping his skin together, and he did look great, in Jono’s opinion. But even if that control started to wane and it loosened, Chamber still thought Skin to be amazing. He would always be the handsome one between the two of them.
But that was something they both seemed to argue about endlessly too.
“Dios, I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” Angelo grunted as he pushed Jono’s legs up and over his shoulders. “Say what you want, chico, I just need this. Never mind that shit from earlier…I don’t wanna fight with you…”
‘Ange don’t go there…’ Jono breathed at the words, knowing he was only muttering about stuff that made the present possible. Who the hell knew what Skin would be saying the next day, and Chamber almost wanted to protest the blubbering. But he knew better when Angelo was there and waiting and ready to push inside of him. Jono flung his arm across the mattress and reached over to grab them a condom and some lube. The Mexican just waited hungrily between his legs, stroking himself as he watched his face. ‘Here, sunshine. Now get a move on, will ya?’
Skin nodded and just a few seconds later he was placing his cock against Jono’s ass. It was hard and cool with lube, and even through the slight shake in Angelo’s hands Jonothon could feel the maddening pulsations through his friend’s body. Felt the warmth and just knew that his blood was roaring. Elastic hands wrapped tightly around Jono’s thighs as Ange finally pushed up and in, and again the Brit had to grab at the bed sheets. ‘Bloody hell!’
“Oh Dios,” Angelo groaned and tossed his head back against Jonothon’s feet. Messy locks of hair tickled the skin there, and Jono could not help but jolt at the feel. Ange just chuckled at him and thrust upward, pushing deep and rolling the narrow hips in the process. “Bueno, Jono. Tu-- usted es…bueno, cariño.”
Jonothon would have purred appreciatively, if he had the ability to do so, just at the sound of his name rolling off of that lyrical tongue. It was not enough to have their bodies tangled together that way, but to hear the colourful words in that hungry and affectionate tone only made it all the more erotic. Jono never projected much when they fucked, but hearing the bumbling words come out of Ange’s mouth was just that much better.
“Si, si, si,” he grunted again as he slid in and out, tossing his head back and peering down to stare at Jono through heavy lidded eyes. “Te quiero.”
Jono revelled in the words and dropped a hand down to tend to himself as Angelo filled him. His cock was dark and wet against his stomach and was absolutely burning to be touched. To stroke from base to tip was enough to make Jono’s entire body completely taut with need. So much attention going on everywhere at once and it was overwhelming.
“Holy…Dios…you,” Angelo’s words caught in his throat as he watched the Brit move his hand along his own cock, and he had to remember to lift his jaw again. “Jono, chingar, you’re so hot, amigo.”
The Brit’s eyelashes fluttered again, and he quickened the pace of his hand. Jerking frantically as he felt the overbearing urge to release. Heat again consumed him, and that white, hot pleasure that came with an orgasm completely rocked his body. Angelo continued to fuck him as the mess covered his belly, and he cursed at the white spots that would most definitely stain his black bandages. Fucking hell, that was always a bitch to get out!
Angelo let out a shaky moan at the sight of Jono’s ‘plight’ and slid his hands down to grip the round cheeks of the Brit’s ass. He spread him further, fucking deeper and making Jonothon mentally scream at the welcomed intrusion. The Mexican lifted up on his knees, kneeling tall before him as he continued to slam his hips forward. Jono just dropped his hands to the mattress as he quivered helplessly, not even at all knowing what to do with himself. He felt as though he were being rocked senselessly.
“Dios,” Angelo whimpered and quickened his pace. The muscles of his stomach clenched tightly as he pushed in one, two, three more times, and then finally let out a startled cry as he emptied himself inside of Jonothon. Sliding in and out slowly as he fought to maintain his composure. But his body shook from both the shock and fatigue. Jono slowly dropped his legs to the bed as their bodies separated, and Angelo just leaned forward to wrap his arms around his friend. To touch more intimately.
Jono watched dazedly as the grey body crawled up against his and nuzzled his face into the crook of his bandaged neck. He could feel very faintly the way Angelo pressed his nose and lips into the mangled flesh below until he worked his way back up to chew and kiss his earlobes. “Amigo, mierda, that was bueno.”
Jono just nodded and tangled his fingers through Ange’s messy hair. ‘Yeah.’
The Mexican lifted his head and gazed down at him affectionately, eyes roaming over Jono’s face. But again, there was none of that touching that should have normally happened after sex, and that was Jonothon’s only regret. God, did he just wish he could kiss him right then. Angelo must have noticed the confliction, however, because one grey hand made its way up to Jono’s cheek and caressed the skin there. “It’s good, amigo, just the way it is.”
A swell of emotion swirled within the Brit’s body, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his friend. They lay there, side by side on the mattress and tangled in limbs and said nothing else. Words always led to something bothersome, it seemed, so they settled with just actions. Contact. Touch.
And then Angelo pressed his lips gently against the tight bandages on Jono’s face, mimicking a kiss on non-existent lips. It made energy spark to life within Jonothon. The heat, the flame, his heart…it burned.
“You okay now?”
Jono just nodded as he rolled over and tossed his arm loosely around his friend’s waist. ‘I should keep ya around, sunshine. Lazy bloke or not.’
Angelo smirked. “Light of your life, huh? Says a lot coming from a guy with psionic fire in his chest.”
‘Now yer just pushin’ it, bloke.’
“Nah, pushin’ it would be askin’ if ya wanted a smoke,” Angelo joked and rummaged around in the dark for his pants. “Pushin’ it would be askin’ ya for a light. Got a light?”
Jono just groaned and shoved his head under his pillow. ‘Oi. I don’t know why I even bother with yer.’
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A/N: Hmm. I'm still lukewarm on this. XD I'm having a hard time writing smut lately as it seems to just amuse people more than anything else. So I guess I'm feeling a little self conscious. Plus it's my first time really writing something serious from Jono's POV, so I hope I did it right. And I hope you enjoyed this! That would make me mucho happy. :]
It wasn’t like there was much motivating him to work either. The place they lived in was a total dump and was hardly worth the price. They were located in the club district of Chelsea, and between the loud music and late night drunken fights, noise was one of the least of their concerns. They only had to buy food for one, and yet even after all the bills were paid they had to scrounge to feed Angelo. The heat was on and off depending on the time of the year, and there was a strange smell that always seemed to make its way in from the corridor. It was sort of a cross between kitty litter and old cheese.
Jonothon was lucky that his boss, Mrs. Lancaster, was a patient woman. She would give him cash advances when he needed them, and the odd day he requested off to keep an eye on Ange when he was having one of those bad headaches of his. She knew that he was a young man, an immigrant mutant, struggling to support himself in the big city. The older woman was almost like a mother to him, but that did not come without its consequences. Mrs. Lancaster was in her seventies and Jono found himself picking up most of the duties at the store. She had a bad knee and an even worse case of glaucoma, and there was just too much that she couldn’t do for herself anymore. Jono was not particularly patient himself, but the extra tasks led to longer hours and more cash, so he had to bite the bullet and accept it.
The problem was that it left him tired. He subconsciously ached by the time he came home, and when he got there, the clubs outside were just opening and coming to life. There was no silence outside his building, nor was there silence inside with the constant fighting going on. The worst, though, was when he came home to a dark apartment. All of the lights were out and the door was locked, indicating Angelo had gone out for some fun. Still, dishes were piled in the sink and the tap left dripping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Loud and echoing throughout the tiny room, it pulsed through his brain and added to the headache already picking at him.
Of course, clothing was still strewn all over the floor, and the sheets on the bed and couch were balled up in a tangled, unmade mess. Their apartment consisted of only two rooms - a bathroom, and their combined living room/bedroom/kitchen. It was not as though walking around the place and cleaning it would even take a long time, but still. It was not done. It never got done. And it never seemed to really bother Jono until he was walking through the door at the end of the night and just wanting to sit down.
Another loud yell from outside the apartment door disrupted him from his thoughts, and he quickly gave one last annoyed look around the room before dropping his backpack to the floor. His coat and boots soon joined the mess, and he stepped over the sorry excuse for a coffee table to approach the window. It was warm in the room, and the pane had been locked shut. The volume of the night’s events increased when it was opened, but Jono was much too satisfied with the evening breeze to worry too much about it.
He was always hot. It was strange, really, because inwardly it did not bother him. When most normal people were cold they shivered, and when they were hot they sweat. The inside of his body was like a furnace though, and temperature did not have too much of an affect on his functioning. Only the surface of his skin. Heat made him feel itchy and uncomfortable. Angelo liked it because Jono was good for keeping the place warm when they needed it, but it didn’t do too much for himself.
Brown eyes watched the traffic below silently before he decided to rid himself of his work shirt. He grabbed the bottom hem with both hands, and just managed to catch a piece of bandage as he pulled it off over his head. A dull light exposed itself to reflect off the window pane, and the glare made Jono blink subconsciously. Instead of fixing it though, he tugged it down and removed the charcoal black coverings. They fell off in long, thin pieces and looped around his feet on the floor, sagging over each other in a messy pile. The bright orange glow of the flames within him intensified as he exposed them, and for just a moment it felt good to relieve himself of the confined energy. Heat licked around the mangled areas of his cheeks and danced in the air around his face and belly.
The reflection in the window pane gave off the illusion that New York was burning.
Sometimes, just once in awhile, he wondered what it would be like to witness the heat from someone else’s eyes. To have to smell the smoke it produced and even cough at the intrusion of his lungs. Of course, he had experienced such things before becoming a mutant, but his childhood was so far behind him that it remained only a lonely memory. Pictures in his mind that he associated with emotions, but could not for the life of him recall the finer details. The smell, the air, the taste. It was almost as if they never existed at all; he was twenty-two years old and nine years of being a mutant felt like an entire lifetime.
Even after a lifetime, he could still peer through that reflection - that illusion of a burning city in the window - and see the monstrous sight of his own two eyes buried deep within the image as the heart of it all. Two brown, expressive orbs that were the only visible sparks of life he had left. Every gesture, expression, and emotion was brought forth by them. They were everything -all he had.
Well, almost.
The dim silhouette of his two closest friends became visible down the street. They were walking on the sidewalk arm in arm, laughing about something…probably ridiculous. Jubilee was carrying a shopping bag at her side while Angelo was waving his arm around to emphasize whatever exaggerated tale he was telling her. They looked like they were having fun. Relaxed. Awake. Alive.
Jono just felt dead.
He reached his hand up and through the cackling flames erupting from his chest to place down on the window sill as he watched them. Eyes followed each and every detailed movement they made as his mind raced. And he was silent. The room was so silent. Inside his space there was nothing but dead quiet, and out there, with them, the world looked and sounded so alive.
They were bursting with life. All he burst with was monstrous energy.
They were so happy whenever he was not around to drag them down, and the fact tugged at his non-existent heart. Sure, Angelo had his mopey moments too, but compared to Jonothon he was practically a children’s book character. Then when he was with Jubilee…well, to Jono it was almost like they acted like no one else existed. They laughed and touched and did not worry about a thing in the world. Not the bills or the lack of food. Not the dirty clothes. Not the smelly apartment. Not the lack of job. The domestic disputes, the heat, the mess, or aching feet…just each other.
And from his place two stories above he watched as they parted ways. She dropped her bag next to their feet and wrapped her tiny arms around his shoulders. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer. Their lips met briefly and chastely, but it was enough. A kiss…lips pressed together to touch and to taste. To express emotions…feelings.
Something he could never do for either of them. He supposed that it was good that they at least had each other to do such things with, but that did not make it hurt any less. Sure they could press their lips against his face and hands and other areas of his body, but he could never do that to them. He could never show his love or make them feel loved.
Jono stepped away from the window and bent down to the floor to grab his bandages. As quickly as he had pulled them off he had them tied back on and hiding the hell within him. He hid the mangled skin and the dangerous heat - the hole that devoured the inside of him. Tight and snug and closing him off from the world once more. Wearing just his bandages and jeans he stood in the middle of the floor staring down at his body. Glaring down. Hating.
“Hey, amigo,” Angelo muttered as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He was alone now, and the beaming smile he had on before was gone. “Just get home?”
‘Yes,’ came the stoic telepathic reply.
“Oh,” Angelo mumbled as he pulled out of his coat and dropped it to the floor in a heap. “Bad day?”
‘No.’
“You look mad,” the Mexican pointed out.
‘How can yer even tell?’
An incredulous sigh came out of Angelo’s mouth then, and he shook his head as he stomped toward the fridge. Pulling it open, his eyes wandered down the empty shelves irritably before he slammed it shut again. He flipped on the tap and let the water run for a few seconds before leaning down and drinking straight out of it. When he came back up he had a few stray drops on his lips, but quickly batted them away. He did not give Jono a second glance as he plopped down to sit on the mattress. Annoyed again he was at the Brit’s moping, Jonothon supposed.
‘Where were ya t’night?’
Angelo’s eyes darted around the room before he cleared his throat. “Obviously not here cleaning like I shoulda been, right? And, no, I wasn’t out looking for a job either.”
‘So where were ya?’
“With Jubilee.”
‘Oh.’
Angelo’s expression softened then; the strict control of his facial skin allowed for Jono to easily see the troubled look on his face. “She said-- she told me to say hello to you.”
‘The gel didn’t wanna come up?’ Jono folded his arms over his bandaged chest and willed away that pang of insecurity once more.
“Nah, told me she even didn’t want me followin’ her around tonight. Said she had plans with some other chicas, or something. They even tried to get Illyana to go, but she told them to go to hell,” Angelo smirked slightly and finally peered back up at Jono. “I’m actually surprised she didn’t toss them there for a couple of minutes just to scare them. Jubes was bein’ a bit of a jerk to her.”
‘I see.’
“We didn’t really even do anything tonight,” Ange began on the fast paced explanation that always seemed to come whenever two of them did something without the third, and it was those moments that Jono wondered why they even let stuff like this go on in the first place. “We went down to the bar to hang out, but Ric was bein’ an asshole ‘cause he broke a light or something. I don’t know what he was even tryin’ to say between all that cussing. We just played some pool and left, you know? Hit the mall for like an hour…”
‘Yer don’t have t’explain,’ Jono rolled his eyes.
“Well I wouldn’t feel the need to if you didn’t look mad!” Angelo defended.
‘I’m not mad!’
“You are too! I can tell by the look on your face!” Angelo paused and waved his hand dismissively at the mistake. “Your eyes. I can tell by your eyes. And the way you’re standing.”
Jono blinked back his irritation and ruffled his hands through his hair. ‘I’m goin’ to bed.’
“Already!? I just got home! What the…you don’t even have to sleep!”
‘Mental exhaustion, luv. I don’t have to sleep, but I like to! And I have to be up early,’ Jono just huffed and slunk down into the couch irritably. The piece of furniture creaked under his weight, and he struggled with the dirty black sheet to cover himself. ‘Shut off the light whenever you’re ready.’
“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” Angelo sighed.
‘Because that’s your bed. This is my couch, so I sleep on it.’
“I’m not even fighting about this with you again tonight, esé. Dios, sometimes I wish I get you, ya know that?” the grey skinned mutant sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. Jono rolled over to face the back of the couch as Angelo began to change, and after a few moments the light flicked off. The mattress groaned as Angelo crawled across it, and soon after silence enveloped the apartment once again. The sounds of outside - livelihood - took over, but Skin did not let it last long. “Are you sure there’s nothin’ wrong, hombre?”
Jono blinked into the darkness and curled his fingers around his blanket. ‘I’m just sick a fightin’ with ya over her, Ange. It’s not right.’
There was a long pause before the Mexican spoke again. “Whoever said I was fighting for her?”
‘Angelo…’
“Don’t even say it. I know how you are and how you act and how you feel…I’ve heard it a million times. I saw it a million times,” a low, bitter laugh sounded through the darkness, and it made Jono ache in places he did not even want to think about. “You wanna sulk up there all by yourself, cabron, go for it. But I didn’t come home early tonight just to start this fuckin’ Jubilee shit with you.”
‘Well maybe yer shouldn’t a come home early. I have t’sleep so yer just gonna have t’sit in the dark by yourself anyways, mate. I’m sure there’s a million other things ya could be doing.’
“It’s still early! The least you coulda done was said hello and watched some tube with me…just for an hour, or something!”
‘I gotta work in the morning!’ Jono’s psychic projection increased its volume.
“You always work!”
‘Well one of us has to!’ he snapped and finally sat up to face the general direction of his friend’s voice. ‘Would ya rather be livin’ on the streets again!?’
Angelo did not reply. Instead, Jonothon caught sight of a massive stretch of hand flying through the dark and straight at him. The warm flesh wrapped around both of the Brit’s thighs and dragged him, a blanket, and a couch cushion to the floor with one forceful tug. Thankfully the landing was easy considering the foot of the mattress laid adjacent to the sofa, but Jono was no less peeved about it. Angelo could be a real jerk when he wanted to be.
‘Wut the bloody hell do ya think yer doin’!?’
“Shut up,” Angelo grumbled and slid his body under Jono’s blanket. “Sulk all you want, be a dick, I don’t care. You can sleep on the damn bed.”
‘Angelo…’
“I said shut your trap,” he hissed in his ear. Jono just nodded and let his head sink into the ratty old pillow they shared. It was hot under the blankets already, but for some reason he could not bring himself to contest Angelo curling his body along his back. The stretched out skin slowly loosened its grip, and the Mexican brought his hand up to knead along Jono’s shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry the place was mess, okay? And I know you’re all pissed about me not working, and I messed up. I know that. I’ll try and be less of a bum from now on.”
‘I don’t think yer a bum,’ Jono projected, and straightened his neck fully to expose more shoulder to Angelo. There was not much for him to work with considering a lot of that area of his body had been damaged too, but the stretchy mutant worked his fingers along what was there like a cat digging into a scratch post. Painful knots and exhausted muscle loosened under never ending amounts of helpful fingers, and Jono could not help but set aside his former annoyance. Even the feel of Skin rubbing along the backs of his biceps was nice, and he slunk further into the mattress.
“Better?” Ange whispered against the back of his ear.
Jono just nodded and did not say a word.
“Good,” he murmured and pressed his lips against the soft flesh behind Jono’s earlobe. The shaggy tuffs of the Brit’s hair shifted and flopped over his forehead as Angelo moved around the side of his head just kissing and taking care of him. And strangely, Jono’s earlier regrets of not being able to do it back subsided as he allowed himself to settle down and accept Angelo giving him what he could not have. Hesitantly, Jonothon raised his hand to grab at the body behind him, finding the waxy feeling flesh of his friend’s neck. A strange sort of grunt escaped Ange’s lips at the contact, and he pressed himself tighter against Jono’s back.
Every contour of his body could be felt against him, despite the fact that Jonothon was still relatively covered. Neither of them needed to be nude for Chamber to be able to feel the erection pushing against the small of his back. It did not stay there long, however. Angelo wiggled away and turned Jono around so that he was lying on his back. Brown eyes stared down at him amusedly, but the sight of them gave the Brit a sort of ache. So badly he just wished he could reach out and kiss his lips. It was times like that, alone and in the dark and just together that the absence of such affection was the worst. So many times he had leaned in fully prepared to do so, actually being stupid enough to forget that he could not.
Ange always tried so hard to assure him that it was okay - that he didn’t mind. But no reassurance could ever give him the self confidence he lacked. It was not easy losing parts of himself, obviously, but he tried. He tried so damn hard not to bring the mood down about it because that was a hell of a lot worse than not being able to do it. But Angelo just smirked down at him as he always did, and pressed his lips against one of Jonothon’s eyebrows. Slowly and articulately he moved down to his eyelashes, to his nose, and then over to his cheekbone. Warm, moist touches that left a giddy sort of tingling in Jono’s face.
Through the tender touching, the unmistakable feel of stretchy fingers began to walk teasingly down Jono’s torso, through the sparse hair on his lower belly, and down to the button of his pants. Chamber could not help but arch his back up and into the hand just waiting for it to slide its way inside.
“Well, I hope you ain’t too tired,” Angelo hummed and wrapped himself in Jono’s arms as his free hand got business like under his pants. “I don’t think I can stop now.”
‘Yer don’t have to…’
“Good, ‘cause I think ya woulda had a fight on your hands, amigo,” he smiled and traced his lips along the curve of Jono’s bicep. He slunk lower and lower, making sure not to miss a single place. A small and very tiny tip of tongue roamed along his pulse points and around the inside of his elbow. Further down, he circled around Jono’s forearm and then gently sucked on the wrist bone between his arm and hand. Jonothon let his eyes flutter closed at the attention, and then promptly tossed his head back into the pillow when Ange finally got those pants pushed down around his thighs. Heat rushed through the Brit like electric light, consuming him and tempting him to just sprawl out and expose himself completely.
Angelo helped him do just that. He snaked his hands around the top of his pants and removed them before settling between Jono’s thighs. ‘Ange…’
“Usted es lindo, cariño,” he told him, again in that melodic, but assuring tone. Jono was still unaware of some of the meanings behind the words Angelo spoke in his native language, but he found it so much more emotional and downright sincere when he said them.
‘Ange…’
“Sssh,” he hissed, and laid down on his stomach. The distinct ridge of the Mexican’s nose made its way up the side of Jono’s cock. Angelo breathed in heavily, as though he were taking in the scent completely. Just the hot air escaping his lips and the slight moisture his lips left along the front of Jono’s underwear made him stiffer. Like that life - that bursting, energizing life that Angelo was so full of - filled Jono. It warmed him and he wanted more. But Angelo was still teasing. Despite Jonothon’s legs spreading further and his back arching up, the Mexican did not remove those briefs.
‘C’mon, sunshine, please…’ Jono pleaded.
Angelo just nuzzled his nose in again, nipping at the base of Jonothon’s cock through the fabric. Hips bucked at the feel, but the grey skinned man wasn’t done having his fun. His mouth moved down to the balls below to continue his assault there. Jono projected out a loud moan at the feel, and clutched the bed sheets tightly in his fists. Those sneaky fingers were still playing their game around the elastic of his underwear, but Angelo wanted to roam. To tease. To just make Jono relax and rid himself of the day’s stress.
It worked. The day’s stress was long gone and replaced with the unrelenting urge to just be touched. His dick was hard and at attention, tenting his briefs up and out toward his stomach, and he wasn’t sure he could take any more of this. One of his hands found the back of Angelo’s head, and he tangled his fingers in the dark locks there. Ange twisted at the small contact, and finally started tugging down Jono’s underwear. He lifted the thin legs up in the air until the fabric was gone, and the second he was given the chance his mouth was there. Swallowing Jono and enveloping him in tight warmth.
‘Oh Jesus…’ he groaned.
Angelo just hummed around his dick, lips sucked beneath his teeth as his head bobbed freely along the hard shaft. Fingers were still roaming, feeling around Jono’s thighs and behind his knees, and back up again to play with the protruding hip bones above. The wonderful thing about Angelo’s powers was that he was allowed to touch everywhere at once, and sometimes Jono felt as though he just drowned in attention. Care and tender touches that made him want to melt into a puddle right there on the mattress and disappear forever.
And Skin never grew bored. He just moved himself wherever he fit, whimpering and mumbling hungrily as he sucked him. The cool metal of his rosary tapping against the cheeks of Jono’s ass and making him shiver all over again. A symbol of Angelo’s beliefs so proudly worn and followed - except for with Jono. Doing this. It was the only time the Brit knew that Ange made the exception of straying from his values, and that both saddened and excited Chamber.
Angelo would throw everything away for this, and yet they had never spoken the fact out loud.
“Madre de Dios,” Skin panted breathily as he pulled back to press a kiss against the side of Jono’s thigh. The Mexican shook his head of the cobwebs and refocused his concentration on his powers before finally gaining the courage to remove his wifebeater and boxers. Even in the dark, Angelo had his own insecurities, and it made Jono wonder if that was how he felt every time the Brit got self conscious about his own appearance. Ange usually did an excellent job of keeping his skin together, and he did look great, in Jono’s opinion. But even if that control started to wane and it loosened, Chamber still thought Skin to be amazing. He would always be the handsome one between the two of them.
But that was something they both seemed to argue about endlessly too.
“Dios, I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” Angelo grunted as he pushed Jono’s legs up and over his shoulders. “Say what you want, chico, I just need this. Never mind that shit from earlier…I don’t wanna fight with you…”
‘Ange don’t go there…’ Jono breathed at the words, knowing he was only muttering about stuff that made the present possible. Who the hell knew what Skin would be saying the next day, and Chamber almost wanted to protest the blubbering. But he knew better when Angelo was there and waiting and ready to push inside of him. Jono flung his arm across the mattress and reached over to grab them a condom and some lube. The Mexican just waited hungrily between his legs, stroking himself as he watched his face. ‘Here, sunshine. Now get a move on, will ya?’
Skin nodded and just a few seconds later he was placing his cock against Jono’s ass. It was hard and cool with lube, and even through the slight shake in Angelo’s hands Jonothon could feel the maddening pulsations through his friend’s body. Felt the warmth and just knew that his blood was roaring. Elastic hands wrapped tightly around Jono’s thighs as Ange finally pushed up and in, and again the Brit had to grab at the bed sheets. ‘Bloody hell!’
“Oh Dios,” Angelo groaned and tossed his head back against Jonothon’s feet. Messy locks of hair tickled the skin there, and Jono could not help but jolt at the feel. Ange just chuckled at him and thrust upward, pushing deep and rolling the narrow hips in the process. “Bueno, Jono. Tu-- usted es…bueno, cariño.”
Jonothon would have purred appreciatively, if he had the ability to do so, just at the sound of his name rolling off of that lyrical tongue. It was not enough to have their bodies tangled together that way, but to hear the colourful words in that hungry and affectionate tone only made it all the more erotic. Jono never projected much when they fucked, but hearing the bumbling words come out of Ange’s mouth was just that much better.
“Si, si, si,” he grunted again as he slid in and out, tossing his head back and peering down to stare at Jono through heavy lidded eyes. “Te quiero.”
Jono revelled in the words and dropped a hand down to tend to himself as Angelo filled him. His cock was dark and wet against his stomach and was absolutely burning to be touched. To stroke from base to tip was enough to make Jono’s entire body completely taut with need. So much attention going on everywhere at once and it was overwhelming.
“Holy…Dios…you,” Angelo’s words caught in his throat as he watched the Brit move his hand along his own cock, and he had to remember to lift his jaw again. “Jono, chingar, you’re so hot, amigo.”
The Brit’s eyelashes fluttered again, and he quickened the pace of his hand. Jerking frantically as he felt the overbearing urge to release. Heat again consumed him, and that white, hot pleasure that came with an orgasm completely rocked his body. Angelo continued to fuck him as the mess covered his belly, and he cursed at the white spots that would most definitely stain his black bandages. Fucking hell, that was always a bitch to get out!
Angelo let out a shaky moan at the sight of Jono’s ‘plight’ and slid his hands down to grip the round cheeks of the Brit’s ass. He spread him further, fucking deeper and making Jonothon mentally scream at the welcomed intrusion. The Mexican lifted up on his knees, kneeling tall before him as he continued to slam his hips forward. Jono just dropped his hands to the mattress as he quivered helplessly, not even at all knowing what to do with himself. He felt as though he were being rocked senselessly.
“Dios,” Angelo whimpered and quickened his pace. The muscles of his stomach clenched tightly as he pushed in one, two, three more times, and then finally let out a startled cry as he emptied himself inside of Jonothon. Sliding in and out slowly as he fought to maintain his composure. But his body shook from both the shock and fatigue. Jono slowly dropped his legs to the bed as their bodies separated, and Angelo just leaned forward to wrap his arms around his friend. To touch more intimately.
Jono watched dazedly as the grey body crawled up against his and nuzzled his face into the crook of his bandaged neck. He could feel very faintly the way Angelo pressed his nose and lips into the mangled flesh below until he worked his way back up to chew and kiss his earlobes. “Amigo, mierda, that was bueno.”
Jono just nodded and tangled his fingers through Ange’s messy hair. ‘Yeah.’
The Mexican lifted his head and gazed down at him affectionately, eyes roaming over Jono’s face. But again, there was none of that touching that should have normally happened after sex, and that was Jonothon’s only regret. God, did he just wish he could kiss him right then. Angelo must have noticed the confliction, however, because one grey hand made its way up to Jono’s cheek and caressed the skin there. “It’s good, amigo, just the way it is.”
A swell of emotion swirled within the Brit’s body, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his friend. They lay there, side by side on the mattress and tangled in limbs and said nothing else. Words always led to something bothersome, it seemed, so they settled with just actions. Contact. Touch.
And then Angelo pressed his lips gently against the tight bandages on Jono’s face, mimicking a kiss on non-existent lips. It made energy spark to life within Jonothon. The heat, the flame, his heart…it burned.
“You okay now?”
Jono just nodded as he rolled over and tossed his arm loosely around his friend’s waist. ‘I should keep ya around, sunshine. Lazy bloke or not.’
Angelo smirked. “Light of your life, huh? Says a lot coming from a guy with psionic fire in his chest.”
‘Now yer just pushin’ it, bloke.’
“Nah, pushin’ it would be askin’ if ya wanted a smoke,” Angelo joked and rummaged around in the dark for his pants. “Pushin’ it would be askin’ ya for a light. Got a light?”
Jono just groaned and shoved his head under his pillow. ‘Oi. I don’t know why I even bother with yer.’
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A/N: Hmm. I'm still lukewarm on this. XD I'm having a hard time writing smut lately as it seems to just amuse people more than anything else. So I guess I'm feeling a little self conscious. Plus it's my first time really writing something serious from Jono's POV, so I hope I did it right. And I hope you enjoyed this! That would make me mucho happy. :]