El Scorcho (twbasketcase) wrote,
El Scorcho

Prompt #58: Hope

Title: Twist
Category: X-Force
Characters: Ric and Star
Genre: fluffy fluff bunnies of fluffy DOOM.
Rated: uhhhh PG-13. Just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don’t own. Yes I do. No I don’t. lookouttheresadinosaurrightbehindyou! *snatches them and takes off running*
Summary: A change of pace, a difference in attitude, a twist of fate.
A/N: Short and crappy don’t readthisIsuck.

He has eyes that can catch a glimpse of movement miles and beyond, and yet he does not take them away from what is only a few feet away. Like a light in a dark tunnel it shimmers, blinds him of everything else. And it is his light, illuminating a life that was plagued in misery and hate, and painted black. Hopeless rage and violent ends. He had once been destined to die alone and young. Angry and slaughtered.

And yet, here there is something else. Opportunity.

He is still young, yes, and often still quite angry. At what, he is not sure; it is just something that lingers. But he is not alone. He is never alone. Company is always close by in the form of a boy no older than eighteen. Someone who is often just as angry and frustrated as he, just as lost in the world, and just as lonely.

In him is a kindred spirit, yet a reckless time bomb waiting to go off. Together they can destroy planets and shatter the stars. Power between them is endless, and although arrogance often shines its face, they hold back. Always hold back. Wanting, waiting…yearning for something more than just the fight.

And it is here that he finds it with him.

Rictor dances. There are no leaders to scold him, or teammates to play a show for. No one watches and in this he is free. Free of orders and stress, lacking grief and setting aside worries for freedom. Five minutes alone and away from everyday activity. For once he enjoys his life. And never would he even dream of disturbing him from such peace and tranquility.

So Shatterstar stands back and just watches, never saying a word or making a sound.

The Mexican twists, feet gliding gracefully across the floor, hair flying around his face, and lips moving softly with lyrics. From his place in the corner of the room, the sun from the window spills across him. His skin is golden brown from the rays, and hair catches the light so phenomenally it appears like a halo. Angelic and graceful; he is a piece of art.

But Rictor never realizes it. Confidence and insecurities burn deep inside of him, scars from a life unkind. Shatterstar feels for him and knows where he comes from. Only he was trained to be confident; a lack of confidence would have surely seen him dead. But Rictor is different. He is softer and more vulnerable. While he is no where near weak, he stills wears his heart on his sleeve. It consumes him.

But where Shatterstar lacks it, Rictor makes up for it. The Mojoworlder is also consumed by the Mexican’s heart. He feels it when it breaks, he tastes it when they kiss, and he hears it in his voice. Low, melodic, and accented, it is with him everywhere he goes. Even when he watches him, silent and peaceful, he can hear him through a spiritual bond.

Rictor dances. Ignoring the fact that Shatterstar is watching him, but so absolutely aware that he is there. He does not mind. Neither boy wants him to stop. They need it. Shatterstar cherishes it. The way his muscles clench and his abdominals ripple as he rolls his hips, swinging them back and forth loosely as he steps. Allows his hands to wander across his own flesh. And in that moment, if only for a short one, he is comfortable. Rictor does not vocalize it, but Shatty can feel it. It rolls off of him like a steam.

It is something so rare.

So rare that Shatterstar lets his own confidence slip. He knows for as courageous and gutsy as he is, he can never let loose that way. He can never allow himself to strip of most his garments and just dance wildly for someone else to see. Can he even coordinate his body that way?

Shatterstar does not have the guts to try. Perhaps it is not as if he is ashamed, maybe only shy. Such a word so foreign to him, but he can feel it. He knows it because it is something Rictor so ordinarily feels. And he never knew why until now.

He does not let himself be bothered by this fact. For if a warrior born as he, so tall and proud, can be knocked down a few pegs by just one beautiful sight, there is hope. Hope that perhaps he is not destined for such anger and grief forever. That perhaps, maybe, he can grow to become something his maker never intended for him to be. Even though such a fate had once been regarded as disgrace, he now accepts it.

Because the life he was destined to before would have deprived him from this. From the feel, the smell, the taste, and the touch. Deprived from such raw, naked exposure from a man as beautiful as Rictor. From the tempting little secret hiding out in his room for just a few minutes out of their busy week.

Rictor dances. Throws his head back and just smiles, finally letting brown eyes settle on the larger body at the door. The brown red glow from the sunlit hair bounces across his happy face, and Shatterstar cannot help but smile awkwardly in return. The twisting, shy feeling returns, but he wills himself to step inside fully, closing the door behind him. One movement and the tables turn. Rictor so sure and confident as he wraps his arms around Shatty’s neck and kisses him fully on the mouth. Lips burning and shocking the Mojoworlder with such lust and desire. Such want.

Such need.

Everything that was never supposed to be, but against the odds is. And unlike most things, Shatterstar finds it a welcome change.

Confidence is only a habit, and he hates the person he is destined to be. But moments like these -- chaotic twists of events -- he is accepting; for he has hope and the armor of his lover’s body on his to strengthen it.

Because together they can destroy planets and shatter the stars. No mutant powers needed.

Tags: fanfic, prompt; ricstar100, ste
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