superhuman

ONE

Pete's eyelids fluttered open slowly, whiskey eyes pierced by sharp white hot gold light as he felt something previously shattered remold itself; memories fluttering from his mind like butterflies leaving a net. Things were being remolded and reshaped inside his own form, absolutely outbalancing the laws of nature, in his mind.
His eyes opened properly, adjusting to the piercing light to be met by a pair of wide baby blues.

"Are you okay?"

Baby Blues stepped back a little and Pete saw his face in full form. He had windswept strawberry blond hair (more blond than strawberry) tucked into a backwards snapback, with a cute little nose and the prettiest set of lips he'd ever seen. Across his hands were a pair of fingerless gloves, and the sleeve of his shirt raised just above the curve of his slender wrist; a tattoo, not fully visible, with the letters "NECRO" in capital letters just visible, black ink easy to read against his milky pale skin.
He looked concerned, his eyes wide and mouth set into a gentle pout/grimace that Pete shouldn't have found as hot as he did. The guy was a fucking angel, but he barely looked nineteen; if that was the case, twenty-five year old Pete wouldn't dare even touch him.

"Dude, seriously, you okay?" He approached carefully, staring cautiously at Pete through long, dark eyelashes, and Pete'll be damned if that look doesn't go straight to his dick.

His voice is hoarse and unfamiliar as he whispers, "Who are you and what did you do to me?"

"I'm Patrick, and I saved your life."

He wasn't expecting Pete to crack up laughing.
"Hilarious. Very unlikely though. Seriously, dude, you're like, 4"."

There's a flurry of movement, and Patrick has Pete pinned down, a snarl across his face, straddling the taller with one arm tight against his throat, the other bunched up into his shirt.
"The fuck did you just say, you little emo slut!? I'll fucking slit your pretty little throat, pretty boy!"
Pete laughed, although he was honestly a little turned on by the smaller boy being so dominant and aggressive. It was kinda hot.
"Pretty boy isn't an insult, especially coming from someone like you." Pete replied, and, leaning up to his ear, whispered, "I wanna be your good little pretty boy. I wanna be the prettiest boy you've ever known."
He smirks slightly as he sees Patrick's semi as the smaller gets off him, cheeks slightly flushed.

There's a small period of quiet before Patrick speaks again.
"You were dead for twenty minutes before I found you." He stares at his gloved hands. "You died as a human... You aren't a human, not anymore."

That's when the pain starts.
All up his left arm, piercing into his head and into his eyes. It was unbearable, honestly, and Pete thought he'd die. It doesn't stop for about five minutes straight, and he lets out a long screech as it finally stops.

"Let me see your left hand." Patrick crouches beside him; he examins his hand carefully, fingers tracing against the capital letters that outline his knuckles and just below them. They shimmer silver for a few moments before fading to normal; Patrick nods affirmatively as he reads the letters - "TELE".

A telepath.
Pete's voice is suddenly in his head; it terrifies him, and he snaps back, scrambling on the slightly damp grass, eyes wide.

That's what I am, right?

Patrick nods, eyes still wide. He's never had someone in his head, but he feels as if he's been raped or violated, having his memories and thoughts invaded without permission. He shivers, fluttering his eyelids closed. He doesn't like it.

You don't need to be scared.

He swallows, turning his head away. Pete doesn't need to learn about Kevin, he decides, not yet.

It's okay.
Patrick projects back this time; judging by the beam on Pete's face, it works.

I'm looking through your thoughts, btw. Who's Kevin?

Patrick feels his throat dry up.
"Nobody." He says aloud. "Get out of my head."

Why? Who is he? What do I have to do with him? Is he your boyfriend?

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
He roars, clutching his hands over his ears. He can't talk about Kevin. Not now.

I'm sor-

WHAT PART OF 'GET OUT' DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!?

Pete looks terrified, and Patrick can see his hands shaking. He almost feels sympathy for him. Almost.

"We're going. Come on. Also.. Don't go into my thoughts. Ever." Patrick keeps his tone brutish and business-like as he gets up, moving towards a cherry-red Chevy Impala that he didn't even notice beforehand, opening a door and sliding in; Pete followed obediently.

"Where to, Captain?"
Pete looks at him innocently through his eyelashes, and fuck, Patrick has to admit, for someone who's such a dick, he's definitely hot. He smiles slightly, biting gently onto his lower lip in a way that most certainly didn't go to Patrick's dick.

"The Institution. You, my unfortunate friend, are a Talented."
"A what?"
"Mutant. Advanced. Superhuman."
".... Awesome."

A/N - what do you /mean/ "that's too much sexual tension for chapter 1"
i will make everyone sexually tensioned thanks

xodlt