give great thanks

by tieflingsorcery

Summary:

Wild Child takes great offence to the idea of Greycrow being Psylocke’s second, especially considering how faithfully Wild Child has been following her every command. Several failed assassination attempts end up with Wild Child learning about the wonderful world of respecting more than one person’s authority.

it’s just hellions krakoa-era psylocke/wild child/greycrow porn for those of use who are still there………

Chapter 1

The Hellions were hardly a coordinated team under Sinister’s leadership, but Wild Child had been put into his place firmly enough that he was no longer waiting to leap to the top of the pile. Psylocke had shown him her dominance when she’d killed him, and the ensuing resurrection left him eagerly trailing after her like the loyal hound he was. The problem with that was that he couldn’t help but fray and worry at the threads of connections with his other teammates when he felt that her leadership was being questioned. He knew that she could more than handle herself - it was why she was in charge of him, why he hung on her words and any scrap of attention she threw his way - but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to shove and needle and push at the others on their team in her name.

He would play rough in training: not pulling clawed swipes against Empath in the seconds he had before the other mutant turned Kyle on himself with psychic powers. Small, petty, childish things you would expect from a housepet that didn’t like you. He stared at Nanny and Orphan-Maker balefully from doorways, unwilling to get any closer to Nanny’s clutches as much as he wanted to intimidate them.

He didn’t have any issue with Greycrow (who listened and deferred to Psylocke, which meant he was an ally) until Kwannon would send Kyle away to spend more time alone with Greycrow. Kyle, who’d gotten in the habit of loitering around Kwannon to the point of being her guard dog even at night (curled up on the floor by the doorway because he wasn’t allowed on the bed), rankled at being unceremoniously shooed out of the room when Greycrow came calling. He was envious of the closeness between the two of them; and in his more lucid moments he would lay in the corridor outside her door and dream of a life where he was more man than hound and could love and be loved in return. He could sense it all thanks to his mutant abilities, a voyeur without wanting it, and the way their smells mixed made his stomach roil with a jealousy he knew was stupid to feel.

He wanted to run away, but felt like a rubber band snapping back to her side any time he crept away from her doorway. His instincts, his very nature, they all demanded he not shirk his duties to protect his alpha. The possessive urge, the hot heavy part of him that came after Amenth; it cried out to rush in and tear Greycrow to ribbons for laying a hand on Kwannon. What held him back was the knowledge that Kwannon could turn anyone to shreds that she didn’t want around (except for Sinister, for reasons beyond Kyle’s understanding) and she had been the one to invite John in.

 

It came to a head after a training session where Greycrow had humiliated Kyle by winning their practice bout. Greycrow was supposed to work better with enough distance for his guns; Kyle was better in close distance - which is why it was so humiliating when Wild Child found himself blasted across the room again by yet another concussive blast.

“Down, boy,” Greycrow called out, with the easygoing tone of someone who had just won a competition they didn’t know they were in. Relaxed, as he mimed blowing smoke from the barrel of his gun like he was just playing.

Kyle screamed, raw and animal in his frustration, running on all fours at Greycrow. The other man startled at that, confusion and then amusement as he readied another shot. Kwannon ripped herself away from where she’d been training with Havok, sprinting over with her psi-blade ready to intervene. A quick look from Greycrow had her pause at the precipice of intervention, muscles taut as she waited for even a moment of needing to tear teammates apart.

Kyle roared again, hands swinging wildly as he leapt again. He managed to rip his claws in a line down Greycrow’s chest, tearing through the other’s shirt and leaving red lines as Greycrow ducked to the side. Kyle tried to twist around in the air to get at him, to sink claws in and start tearing, but he was shoved back as Greycrow jammed the gun between them to get distance. Wild Child snarled as the smell of blood hit his nose, eyes wide and mouth near-foaming as he scrabbled around and tore at Greycrow’s arms. A booted foot landed firmly in his stomach, knocking the air out of him with a hurk as Greycrow pushed through the momentum to knock Wild Child onto the ground. Kyle flipped, belly quickly hidden, and went to push himself off the ground when a weight hit him and knocked any new air right back out of his lungs.

Greycrow stood over him with the barrel of the gun aimed at his head and a foot placed on his neck. Kyle squirmed, stuck (but surely Kwannon wouldn’t let Greycrow actually shoot him; even with his healing factor, even with the Krakoan resurrection list) and glared balefully at him from his position on the floor.

“Let me go!” he snarled at Greycrow, claws digging into the floor as he tried to push up and out from under the other man’s foot.

“Not until you calm down,” Greycrow said, finger not yet on the trigger but poised to do so. “It’s training, Wild Child.”

“Fuck you!” Wild Child snarled, pushing up again and trying to roll himself off to the side.

“Know when you’re beaten, dog,” Greycrow finally snapped, frustration bleeding out as he shoved the barrel of the gun harshly against Kyle’s temple.

Greycrow ground his boot harder on Kyle’s neck to stop him wriggling. Kyle felt the room go quiet, blood thumping in his ears as something strange happened. It felt like the pressure in the room shifted; like gravity stopped existing as his brain clicked pieces into place on a puzzle that Kyle hadn’t known about. His body shivered involuntarily and he went limp with a loud whine. His claws went slack on the floor, and then his legs jerked out behind him and he came messily through his pants. He moaned, eyes rolled back as his back arched in a show of submission to Greycrow. Kyle went floaty, eyes half-closed as he let go. It wasn’t quite like Kwannon, who kept an iron rule over him while still reminding him he was meant to be a person about it. This felt all animal, his hindbrain rolling over under the heel of John Greycrow.

“Jesus Christ,” said Havok into the silence that had fallen over the room. “What the f—”

“Out,” Kwannon had ordered the others, tearing her eyes away.

Havok practically ran out of the training room at that, flush high on his cheeks and pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone else as he did so. Empath, meanwhile, tittered, smug and sly smile curling as he stared at Kyle (face burning, still making horrible pathetic whimpers when his hips twitched involuntarily).

“Try not to have too much fun,” Empath drawled, eyes dragging between Greycrow and Wild Child.

When Kwannon lurched towards him, psi-knives raised threateningly, Empath yelped (manfully so, he would say later) and beat a hasty retreat. Nanny had hopped down from her supervisory lifeguard chair and led Orphanmaker down from his own chair and out the room with her, ignoring his questions about what had just happened and why everyone had to leave. Kyle was glad he didn’t have to see an expression change on the egg’s painted lips.

 

It left him, Greycrow, and Kwannon in the training room. Kyle’s panted breaths filled the room, and he tried to bury his face in the floor. Greycrow slowly retreated back up off of him with tentative movements, like he thought Kyle would flip out if he moved too fast. Kyle paused for a beat after the other man retreated before he sprang up off the floor, twisting around to try and leap at Greycrow to tear-bite-kill. Purple aura filled the air as Psylocke held him in place in the air; her mind blared over his as he struggled uselessly, claws inches away from making contact. He wailed, fingers twitching in her hold as she waited him out. He went limp (as much as he could), and she dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. John paused once Kyle was on the floor, as if torn between poking him to check for signs of life and backing up out of clawing range.

Kyle grimaced as Kwannon’s mind disappeared from the edges of his own. She knew his mind well enough to know he would keep trying to get at Greycrow unless she was there to stop him. He raised his head up from where he’d collapsed and watched her mouth twist in a frown.

“What was that about?” Greycrow finally asked into the silence, shifting his weight about uneasily.

“It’s…” Psylocke started, trailing off as she stared down at Kyle with that frown. “It’s complicated.”

Kyle wanted to contribute that it wasn’t complicated, actually, it was all perfectly logical that he had to snarl and bite and make Greycrow aware that he was further down the hierarchy than Wild Child was. He didn’t, on account of the fact that he was still half-lying on a pool of his own cum and Kwannon was still staring at him in something edged with disappointment.

“…Right,” Greycrow finally said. He paused, then pointed at Kyle. “Does he need to, like… see someone about this?”

No, thought Kyle mulishly.

“No,” Kwannon answered instantly (and at that, bells rang in his ears, the choirs began to play, the sun was shining). “It’s like… it’s something from Amenth, I think.”

“Dying in Amenth made him bust in his pants every time someone fights him?” Greycrow asked incredulously.

“No! I meant that he’s more instinctual; he follows me around because I’m the leader. So he’s picking fights with you because he’s…” she trailed off, a complicated look on her face.

“He’s…?”

Kyle twisted away, hands curling up and over his ears. He didn’t want her to say it, to put a name to the acidic feeling that churned up when he saw them stand near each other. It felt like a gutting, innards splayed out and blood oozing from a half-healed wound. It made him feel human.

“…Jealous,” she finally said, turning her head to avoid looking at either of them. Kyle let out a pathetic whine.

Greycrow made a small noise of something like surprise. He opened his mouth as if to start saying something, but Psylocke cut him off quickly.

“Let me know if it happens again,” she said, suddenly harsh with her words, body closed off and stiff as she hurried out of the room.

Greycrow stared at Kyle for a moment that felt like hours passed, and then he nodded at him and disappeared out from a different exit to the training room. Kyle lay there, sweat cooling on his skin, claws dug into the floor as though tearing it up would in any way restore his dignity. He felt Kwannon’s distance like a knife in his side, stretching out as her steps slowly left the range of his hearing. Eventually he dragged himself up off the floor and slunk away, metaphorical tail between his legs, desperate to avoid everyone as much as he longed to be near them.

Chapter 2

Summary:

um. to clarify: everyone is into this although there is possibly some complication wrt a character not expressing himself verbally
lmk if you need me to tag further ig

It only took a few days of uneasy awkwardness (for everyone but Empath, who made comments at it like he had been born to poke and prod at everyone’s bruises) for the team to move on from the training room incident. Kyle had overheard Psylocke express her relief in hushed tones to Greycrow that at least Sinister hadn’t been there. Kyle didn’t want to say that from the look in Sinister’s red eyes that their benefactor clearly knew what had happened and was waiting for the opportunity to find out more. He just clung closer to Psylocke’s legs every time Sinister entered their vicinity.

 

Once equilibrium had returned, Kyle felt that Greycrow would surely not be expecting another attempt to kill him. This was why he waited patiently, hidden in Psylocke’s closet for them to enter the room alone. If he could show Kwannon that he was capable and strong enough to handle Greycrow, he thought deliriously as he rubbed his face into her spare bedding (it still smelled of her), then surely she would be able to love him.

He waited until they were in the room and relaxed, eyes gleaming as he stared at his prey. He, in his focus, completely missed the confused glances that Kwannon kept shooting to the closet. He only heard the blood pounding in his ears as he burst out and leapt, claws outstretched and fangs bared, desperate to shred up Greycrow.

He didn’t expect that Greycrow would know he was there. That Greycrow would grab him easily and redirect him to go flying into the wall. He hit the wall with a loud crash, air knocking out of his lungs in a wheeze as he hit the floor. Kyle very gamely tried to lurch back up for another attack, wobbling only slightly as his vision blurred. He waited, his healing factor setting straight his vision, and tried to pounce again.

Kwannon sighed, head buried in her hands, as Greycrow grabbed Wild Child by the neck and flung him down on the ground.

“Knock it off,” Greycrow snapped.

“Never!” wheezed Kyle valiantly as he scrabbled to get Greycrow at the ankles.

“Kyle!” Kwannon finally snarled, lifting her head up as she imperiously stared him into submission.

He let out a snarl of his own, cringing back and letting the fight go out of him. He hated it, he swore he did, and yet the prickle-rush of heat sprinted up his spine as she domineered him. Saliva filled his mouth. He glanced up at Greycrow, who was staring at him with frustration and annoyance, like he couldn’t believe this had happened.

Kyle let out a growl (because why wasn’t there even a hint of fear-stink to him; Kyle was here to kill him) and Kwannon slammed her foot into the ground where she sat. Wild Child jolted and promptly came in his pants, body curled up as he stared at her rapturously.

John swore at that and stepped back, eyes darting between Kwannon, Kyle, and the door. Kwannon’s hands curled up in her lap, and her head tilted to her chest as she heaved a sigh. Kyle made twitchy aborted movements as he tried not to draw any more attention to himself.

“Kyle,” Kwannon started, not quite looking him in the eyes. “Stop trying to attack Greycrow. He’s a part of the team.”

Kyle made a mutinous expression at that.

“Is there something we can do?” Greycrow eventually said as the silence dragged on. “Something I can do? So he stops doing… this?”

Kyle buried his face into the floor at that. His mind conjured humiliating images of Greycrow dominating him made him want to rip the carpet up and eat it at the same time that it made his body go all shivery. He tried to ignore that part and focus on thoughts of tearing up the flooring. It was hard, because he kept thinking about things like Greycrow putting him over his lap to punish him or watching Kwannon and John together and not being allowed to join, and his hips kept rutting against the floor. He really hoped that they didn’t notice. Judging by the small throat-clearing noise Greycrow made, he had a feeling they had. The rush of embarrassment made him want to bite his arm off and also beg someone to please just touch him.

“Unless you can get him to recognise you as a leader, he’ll likely keep trying this,” Kwannon said, bravely venturing on despite the circumstances. “So… it might just be a matter of showing him you’re in charge. He should get the idea if he loses enough times.”

“…Right,” said Greycrow with evident doubt.

“For… team morale?” Kwannon tried again. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know it’s not ideal.”

“Fine,” Greycrow finally said. “For ‘team morale’.”

 

It took 3 more failed attempts at cornering Greycrow and trying to rip his throat out before they considered that Wild Child wasn’t going to learn to accept the change to status quo by Greycrow simply beating him every time.

It took a further 2 failed training sessions before it became clear that Wild Child was going to keep trying to exert dominance and then really embarrass himself in front of the team when it didn’t work. Nanny had started banning Orphan-Maker from attending if she knew Wild Child was also going to be there.

The result? Kwannon had, despite the rapidly deteriorating relations between Wild Child and the rest of the team, invited Kyle to her room for a discussion. Dread rolled around with excitement for the whole day leading up to it; in turns pacing around his own room and running about it in excitement.

He ended up buried under the blanket on his bed, hunched over and desperately jerking himself off. The idea of it - of Psylocke holding him in place and punishing him for acting out - wouldn’t leave his brain. He rubbed harshly at the head of his dick, falling forward to bury his face in the pillow as his hips jerked with the sensation.

“Please,” he moaned into the pillow, “I’ll be good this time…”

The Psylocke in his head laughed at that and pulled out a leash and collar from nowhere in particular. How can I believe that, she said, with a swing of the chain as she came closer, unless you prove it to me? He whimpered, head pressed harder into the pillow, hands stroking furiously on his dick when his brain took a hard left. The Psylocke in his head melted away as he remembered the feel of the boot on his neck, ground against him, the sound of Greycrow dismissing him, the weight pressed down on him, and scrunched his eyes shut as he came with a whimper. No, he thought dazedly, no, this was meant to be about Kwannon. He flopped over on the bed, kicking at the blanket in a fit of annoyance that his own brain would conjure up Greycrow when he was meant to be thinking about Psylocke.

He chose not to try and interpret what this meant.

 

“Wild Child,” Kwannon had greeted when he entered her room. “We need to talk.”

She sat in a chair near the desk she read her reports at. Her legs were folded over each other, boots stretched over her thighs. Kyle, who had been huffing the air to fill his lungs with the scent of her, snapped his head to look at her as anxiety filled him. Thoughts of rejection - of being too much, too beastlike - flooded him, and he hunched his shoulders and braced to be told to leave the Hellions. He could go around Krakoa and find someone else to follow, someone who he could entrust the decision-making to and let them lead him around; it would be possible… but it wouldn’t be her. He bit the inside of his cheeks, nodding jerkily but not trusting himself not to beg for forgiveness if he tried to speak.

“You need to stop trying whatever this is with Greycrow,” she said, a hand waving as though that encompassed the ‘fight, lose, and come all over yourself about it’ cycle that Kyle was caught in.

He stared at her with pleading eyes.

“I’m serious.”

He curled his arms around himself, taking a half-step towards her. His head tilted to the side, neck out submissively. She sighed, eyebrows pinching together as he did so.

“You need to work together with him,” she continued, her own arms crossed firmly. “Can you do that?”

He was torn between shaking his head and nodding; wanting to say that he needed to be the closest one to her side and wanting to please her by agreeing. He opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it. He looked away from her and studied dust on a shelf, indecision and humiliation burning a blush on his face.

“Go to the corner,” she said, after it was clear she wasn’t going to get an answer, “and face the wall.”

Kyle sighed and shuffled over, head thunking against the wall as he let himself be ordered into place. He wanted to look over his shoulder and see if she was happy; see if she was pleased at how well he had listened. But he knew that wasn’t allowed. He stood there, anxious energy building, trying not to think of anything except listening to what Kwannon had asked of him.

The door opened and Greycrow stepped in. His smell crowded the air, and Kyle wavered as he tried to be good for Kwannon and stay put. He felt Greycrow’s stare heavy on his back, and Kyle dropped his head to stare at the floor.

He heard Greycrow step around and walk over to kiss Kwannon, a rustle of fabric and the sound of lips pressing together. His foot tapped nervously on the ground and he dug his fingers into his biceps to try and remain in place. A gasping breath from Kwannon made him feel like a livewire, ears tuned in and his own body finely tuned to come alive around her.

“Is this your solution?” he heard Greycrow ask, quietly murmured against Kwannon’s skin.

“One of them,” she answered, hair falling back like a waterfall as she tilted her head up to kiss him again.

Kyle felt like a single acknowledgment of his presence in the room would be enough to set him off. He glared balefully down at the lines of his erection pressing insistently on his suit, embarrassed by how much his body betrayed his investment in the scene behind him.

Kwannon made a gasping noise as Greycrow must have pressed the kiss in further, nastier, and Kyle resisted the urge to smash his head against the wall until he couldn’t hear the sounds any more.

His willpower snapped to its last thread when he heard Greycrow pressing his hand to her chest, leaning over her like he was claiming Kwannon. Kyle growled and shifted his weight from foot to foot when the sound caused Greycrow to huff out a laugh. I’m trying to be good, he wanted to wail, why are you doing this to me?

“Keep going,” murmured Kwannon, though Kyle wasn’t sure which of them she was saying it to.

He lasted until he heard the wet sound of Greycrow pressing a finger into Kwannon, the way she sighed at the feeling; he screamed unintelligibly and spun to leap at Greycrow.

Kwannon’s psychic powers flared to life and locked up his muscles; he fell to the ground in front of them with arms locked against his sides. He thrashed as best he could - muscles twitching from their frozen position - and watched Greycrow retract his finger from Kwannon. Kyle snarled, impotent and unable to defend his mistress (if she even wanted to be defended from it; her face flushed and composure barely held together). Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes as Greycrow walked around to place that same hand against the back of his neck and pin him down in position. Kwannon’s powers let up, but he remained pinned down with a heavy hand as Greycrow leaned his weight down harder on the smaller mutant. Kyle scrabbled claws against the floor as he stared tearfully up at Kwannon. She had her legs crossed on the chair and just watched as he tried to reach out towards her. He wanted to crawl out from under Greycrow and slink back to sit at her side; only her side and not have to choose between following her and following anyone else. It was easier if he had just the one, he knew about himself, just the one person to lay his personhood and trust in and let them make all the tough decisions. Kyle was mere beast, mere tool– and he saw as much as he felt Kwannon’s psychic aura light up as it stopped those thoughts in their tracks. She never let him entertain those kinds of thought spirals anymore, claiming it was due to their irritant nature to her psychic abilities as she thrust his personhood back upon him. He panted unevenly, base instincts responding to the pressure on his back while his somewhat higher functions wailed to run back to mistress and beg forgiveness for his split desires.

“Please,” he cried piteously, drawn out and voice cracking. “I’m sorry!”

“You need to follow him, too,” she reminded him evenly, seemingly unmoved by his theatrics. “I won’t always be there.’’

Kyle could feel John’s breath on his ear as the other man leaned over him to speak. “You good?” John asked, tilting his head away from Kyle to check in with Kwannon as well.

She nodded, curling a strand of hair between her fingers (and had it been anyone else but his mistress, Kyle would have guessed it may have even been with some measure of nervousness). Her gaze dropped back down to Wild Child, sniffing and snuffling as he tried to stop himself from crying. He flexed his hands uselessly against the ground, hands pulled out in front of him as though manacled in place. He took a shaky breath, trying not to focus on how right his hindbrain felt being held down by Greycrow. He didn’t want it to feel right; he wanted to be hers and hers alone the same way he wanted Aurora to keep a leash on him. But Psylocke had made it evident that she wasn’t interested in that, and Greycrow had proved that he was tougher and more commanding than Kyle could ever hope to be against him.

“I’m fine,” Kyle finally ground out with great reluctance, accepting defeat.

“We don’t have to—”

“I said I’m fine,” Kyle snapped, pressing his head against the floor so he wouldn’t have to look at Kwannon when he ceded to John.

Kyle slumped and shivered, half-miserable and half-aroused (and all the more miserable for it; what kind of loyal dog was he to get hard over the touch of another?) as he accepted his defeat. He would be no alpha here amongst the Hellions, he thought to himself as his body lit up under the feel of John running his free hand down Kyle’s side.

“Let me know if that changes,” Greycrow finally said with a shrug. “I’m not into that kind of thing.”

Psylocke reached out to Kyle and tangled her fingers in his scalp, tugging him up to make eye contact. Her psychic rapport opened to him as she studied his expression. He could feel her at the edges of his frenzied mind, checking in on him briefly until she seemed satisfied with whatever she found. With a nod from her, John leaned down and bit down on the juncture of neck and shoulder. He bit down insistently but not enough to break skin; Kyle moaned as the other man did this, his primal instincts readjusting as it took stock of his new place in the pecking order. He felt claimed, owned, put on display in front of Kwannon as Greycrow dominated him like this.

 

With a nudge of John’s knee, Kyle’s legs spread further with a pathetic eagerness. Pinned down as he was, he was arched and left presenting to the other man. He felt delirious at the thought of what he must look like, tears drying on his face as he was held down so easily and made to show off his breeding potential like a bitch in heat. He stared up at Kwannon again, fangs chewing up his lips as he tried not to whimper as she deigned to make eye contact with him again.

“Good boy,” she said coyly, a smug smile inching across her face at the punched-out cry that came from Kyle at her words.

John huffed a laugh at that, letting go of Kyle for a moment to unzip the feral mutant’s suit and pull it down to his thighs. It only took some minor struggling to get his arms free of the fabric, not that Greycrow was waiting for him to get comfortable. Kyle yelped as Greycrow grabbed his ass and squeezed, fingers dug into his cheeks and pulling them apart to show off his asshole. He flushed, mind spinning as Greycrow rubbed his dick between his cheeks, catching the tip on his hole - surely John wouldn’t go in dry, he thought deliriously and then tried not to get excited by the idea of it, of being taken so utterly without a care for his own pleasure from the act. Kwannon tossed a bottle of lube to John, and Kyle flooded with a mix of relief and disappointment that he was actually going to be prepped.

When John eased his finger in (and was it the same one he had used for Kwannon? The possibility made Kyle’s head spin), Kyle groaned and arched up as best he could.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” muttered John, pressing a second finger in.

Kyle whimpered as John started thrusting his fingers back and forth, stretching them out. A third finger was added and he let out a small yelp as if to say it was too soon, too much; John apologised with a hand stroking down the side of his ribs. Kyle looked up at Kwannon, dick hardening when he saw her hand had slipped down between her legs. She smiled down at him, his angel of mercy, and he felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs.

John was pressing in with his fingers, stretching him out until he pressed up against a spot that made Kyle jolt with a flood of sensation. His mouth fell open in ragged moans as John pressed in again on his prostate, stroking it and rubbing against it insistently. Kyle felt like his brain would melt out of his ears, hands pressing in on the floor for some kind of grounding sensation; anything other than the hot rush of pleasure that was flooding him. His legs twitched, trying to kick out as if his body couldn’t decide between leaning into the assault on his prostate and running away to calm down.

“You ready?” John whispered in his ear, breath hot.

Kyle shuddered again and nodded his head. He pressed back into John’s fingers and felt another jolt of pre-cum drool out of his dick. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

John withdrew his fingers and held his cheeks apart with one hand. The other guided his dick in - and Kyle whined, the feeling of it all too much. It felt like he was being carved out by it; that John was splitting him open and rearranging his guts for his own use.

John paused, letting Kyle adjust. “Nearly there,” he murmured, like he wasn’t already breaking Kyle open. “Just a little bit more. You can do it.”

Kyle nodded desperately - he could do it, he was a good boy and he could - and John shoved the remaining length in until his hips pressed up against Kyle. Kwannon made a noise at the sight of it; fingers desperately thrusted into herself (and Kyle could smell it; he could smell them all and he wanted to live in the scent of it forever). Kyle came with a wail, hips held back by John’s hands and cum spraying out onto the floor. It was too much, he thought wildly, fists slamming against the floor as he tried to find some kind of mooring in the sea of sensation.

John groaned as Kyle clenched up tight in orgasm, curling over with huffed swears as he tried not to join Kyle. Greycrow waited just long enough for Kyle to stop twitching and his body began to relax its vice grip before he started to try and move again. John pulled back until the tip remained in, paused a moment until Kyle looked back over his shoulder at him, and then grinned and slammed all the way back in again. Kyle rocked forward with the thrust, feet digging into the floor as best he could to try and stabilise himself. The fabric of his suit was restricting him from spreading his knees out further to brace better. He reached a clawed hand back between his legs and shredded through the fabric desperately, hand tangling in the mess briefly before it snaked back up to position. John paused as he pulled back to thrust into Kyle again, laughing with some modicum of disbelief as he tugged the remnants of clothing out of his way.

“Better?” he asked with amusement.

Kyle huffed irritatedly by way of response and pressed back against John so he was full again. It felt so good to be full, to be so surrounded and taken by the other mutant. He was shameless in his pleasure, thrusting back to meet John eagerly, moaning each time the breath got knocked out. It was still too much; pleasure bordering on pain as his dick tried to rise to hardness again. Every time he looked up at Kwannon it felt like looking into the sun; his eyes burned as she stared down at him and fingered herself.

John’s thrusts sped up, losing their precision and rhythm as Greycrow jackrabbited his hips against Kyle. Kyle kept moaning, breath catching in his throat only to get pushed back out with each forceful push of John’s cock in his hole. His eyes fluttered half-shut, losing himself in the sensation. John came in him with a hissed noise, reaching around Kyle to jerk him off rapidly. Kyle could feel it, the rush of liquid in his hole; the feeling of being dominated was inescapable. Kyle’s panting grew rapid, and he was quick to follow, his dick weakly pulsing out come under John’s insistent handjob.

John pulled out gently, slowly, and patted Kyle’s ass in a reassuring manner as he staggered up to standing. Kyle tried weakly to crawl closer to Kwannon and collapsed on the ground, limbs giving out and shaking under him. He made a gurgled noise, as though that could convey that he wanted to be pressed up against Kwannon. He watched in a haze as John went to her instead, his fingers joining hers where they pressed inside her. He heard distantly, as though from another room, as Kwannon came to a shaking orgasm right in front of him. He huffed weakly against the floor, thoughts drifting out of his head before they could be realised.

Eventually, they pulled him up to the bed with them, hands rearranging him loosely between their bodies as they tucked him under the covers with them. He heard them murmuring to each other, but his brain couldn’t parse the words into making sense. He curled up, head buried against Kwannon’s chest and arms curled up as John’s body heat burned like a furnace against his back. He felt owned, completely and wholly, carved up between Greycrow and Psylocke.

Notes:

there really is not much plot holding this together but I hope it’s enough to make it compelling. some parts of this have been written ages ago and some parts are being written on the fly teehee
probably some more to come which will be random pwp scenes and various scenarios. I am having a lovely time smacking my action figures together

Chapter 3

It seemed almost laughable now, his ideas of being the alpha of his own pack. Now, his body begged for something to fill it at any opportunity. The prospect of his master and mistress (the alphas of this pack of three) choosing to remind him of his place as their follower had him hard in an instant. He cornered John in the showers after training, body burning up after the other man had thrown him about like a rag doll in hand-to-hand drills. Kyle had crowded up against him insistently, eagerly running his hands up and down John’s muscular arm in a paltry attempt to play coy. John had looked at him with disbelief at the act of shyness, because Kyle had foregone bringing a towel with him. Kyle beamed up at him in return, as if it was completely normal to be hard in the communal showers in the first place. As if it wasn’t insane for Wild Child of all people to be trying to act the blushing virgin and cooing over Greycrow. Greycrow rolled his eyes and grabbed Kyle by the hair, tearing him off and pressing his face to the tiled wall. Kyle whined in protest at the same time that he reached back to spread his ass with his hands. His hole clenched as John stared.

“Fucking hell,” John had sighed, letting Kyle present himself desperately for a few more moments. “You could always use your words,” he added as an afterthought, already pressing his fingers into Kyle’s hole.

Kyle hissed with joy at the feeling of his alpha taking him, using him, owning him, and pressed his forehead into the cold tile to try and calm down enough to respond.

“Why? You understood me fine,” he croaked out between huffs and knocked-loose moans as Greycrow finally, finally, fed his cock into him.

“Words first next time,” Greycrow instructed, hands grasped firmly on Kyle’s waist as he began fucking him proper.

The promise of a next time was enough to drive Kyle up the wall. He was already shameless when it came to noise levels, eager enough to show off his appreciation (and maybe to ensure that, should anyone else be nearby, they knew he was needed by Psylocke and Greycrow), but he was making enough of a racket that John swore under his breath and clapped a hand over Kyle’s mouth to try and shut him up.

Kyle grinned into the hand, huffing the smell of Greycrow (his alpha, his leader) for a rush of endorphins. It felt like he was surrounded by the other man, head knocking against the wall with each thrust, dizzy like it was knocking out whatever remained of his brain. It hurt, that overwhelming burn-and-stretch as John thrust in and out mercilessly, but it felt good to be used like this. As his body adjusted (and every time it felt new, healing factor tightening him up just for Greycrow to ruin him again) he tried desperately to fuck back onto John’s dick in time with the other man’s thrusts.

All too soon, Kyle came with a full body shudder, toes curling as his cum splattered on the wall. John cursed, head buried in the space between Kyle’s shoulders, and came almost violently inside of Kyle. Kyle jolted at the rush of liquid, squeaking out a high-pitched moan into John’s hand as his body clenched up and his dick gave a valiant twitch.

John stayed in him, half-heartedly thrusting his softening dick just to watch Kyle twitch and wriggle, caught between overstimulation and his need to please. Eventually he pulled out with a groan, pulling his hand off of Kyle’s mouth as he did so.

Without Greycrow’s bracing grip, Kyle tilted and leaned heavily into the tile wall for support. John leaned back and admired his work with a whistle. 

“Goddamn,” Greycrow said appreciatively.

Kyle whimpered, his hole gaping and clenching on nothing as cum slowly leaked out. He wanted it to stay in so badly, wanted it to mark him as belonging to Greycrow so that anyone could smell it on him. John, ignorant of this desire, bent over to inspect Kyle’s leaking asshole and stretched it apart further with his fingers. More cum spilled out and dripped unceremoniously onto the bathroom floor, and Kyle whimpered at the loss of it as much as at the sting of the stretch on his sensitive hole. His healing factor kicked in, muscles tightening up and fluttering uselessly as John kept him stretched open with his fingers. With his two index fingers, John had pulled the sides apart and was watching with rapt attention as his semen trailed out from Kyle. Wild Child gnashed his teeth at the feeling but let it happen, his dick jerking at the thrill of getting put on display like this for the enjoyment of his leader. The shame of exposure, of being held in place and pulled open, the risk of someone else on the team walking in and seeing him like this, it crawled up his spine and left him hard and desperate all over again.

This didn’t go unnoticed for long, as Greycrow pulled one hand out to tug on Kyle’s hair. The other hand lingered, fingers squelching lewdly as Kyle tipped his head back and whimpered.

“Come on,” John said mildly, retracting his fingers and walking Kyle back to where their lockers were. “Let’s take this somewhere more private, yeah? Maybe we can see if Kwannon is free anytime soon.”

Kyle let himself be led, trailing closely behind and tucking himself up against John as much as possible without actively getting underfoot. John passed him a towel and waited until Kyle remembered that, yes, he was in fact a person who should follow rules of decency, and that if anyone saw him naked they would be very unhappy and he was meant to care if that happened.

He grumbled under his breath as he wrapped himself in the towel. It seemed pointless to him to cover up if they were just going to take it off as soon as they got to a bedroom. John snorted a laugh at Kyle’s attitude and wrapped a towel around his own waist. Kyle tried not to get too distracted by the low-slung towel and the way John’s muscles had trails of water slowly dragging down them towards the hem of the towel. He fumbled with his towel, fingers getting caught as his face went red when he realised John clearly knew he was staring.

“The faster you do what I say, the faster we can get back to it,” Greycrow said, a hand placed on Kyle’s lower back to gently push him forward out of the communal showers

As they walked, Kyle could feel the last bits of John’s cum slowly leaking out and down the inside of his leg. He clenched, face burning at the thought of their teammates seeing it. The towel should hide it, he thought, but  that didn’t stop him from curling his hand possessively in Greycrow’s as they trailed through the corridor. His grip tightened, nails digging in slightly, as he glared at Havok when the other Hellion rounded the corner and started walking towards them down the corridor. Havok blushed; awkwardly glancing at the pair and then fixedly looking away until he was past them. Kyle smiled to himself smugly, sniffing delicately as the stink of arousal-shame-embarrassment that seemed to follow Havok around like a cloud bloomed. He looked over his shoulder and bared his fangs when he caught Havok looking back as well; the other man made a choked noise and scurried around the next corner like a cockroach when the lights came on.

Notes:

sorry for being alex summers pilled it will happen again…… Maddy Pryor if you’re out there we need you to dom this man bad………
anyway I have like one slight paragraph of a next idea jotted up but we shall see if that ever makes it into a chapter! if it does happen it’s more focused on Psylocke/wild child

Notes:

this has been languishing in a google doc for like 2 years at this point. there is barely a plot stringing this together so have some nasty porn from a dusty shelf
title from the dorian electra song of the same name iykyk