Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2006 17:52:11 -0500 From: Dusty Hansen Subject: newest ultimate x man part 14 Obligatory warnings and disclaimers: 1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here. 2) The X-Men and any related characters are property of Marvel Comics, trademarked and registered and copyrighted and all that. I'm using them without permission. For those who read the comics and worry about such things, this story takes place in the (much simpler and easier to follow) Ultimate X-Men universe, and starts right around issue 54. If you don't want to dig out your copy, the team at that time is Jean Grey, Cyclops, Iceman, Kitty Pryde, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Angel, and Dazzler. Comments can be sent to "dustyh75@hotmail.com" Thanks. *** Jean sighed, leaning back and surveying her handiwork. Seth waited on the infirmary bench, wondering if he should be doing something besides sitting there while Jean cleaned up the cut on his arm. "I can't believe you threw my shirt away," he said, staring at the garbage can. "It only had one sleeve!" Jean said, tearing off a piece of medical tape. A square of gauze floated across the room and settled onto Seth's arm, and Jean carefully outlined it with tape. "I only have five shirts," Seth pointed out. "Four now," Jean said, shrugging. Even when she was being businesslike her voice still carried a light tone of playfulness. It was something about her face, which always seemed on the verge of breaking into a smile. "Order some more online. J Crew's having a sale. Flex that. I want to make sure the tape'll stay on." Jean leaned back with her chin in one hand as Seth carefully flexed his arm, making a muscle. His bicep swelled, but the tape stayed in place, and Jean smiled. Behind her, one of the cabinets in the infirmary opened, and a couple more packs of gauze floated out, settling onto the bench next to Seth. She put the roll of tape down on top of them. "Don't get that wet," she instructed. "The water makes the tape peel up, so take it off before you get in the shower and just put a fresh one on when you get out, or come find me and I'll put it on for you." Seth smirked at her. "You know, if you really want to see me in a towel, you could just ask," he said, flexing again. He couldn't do that whole giant continent pecs shifting thing Peter had going, or even that dancing boxer chest thing Scott had going, but he was at least a little more built than Bobby. Jean giggled. "Like you in a towel does either one of us any good," she laughed, poking him in the chest. "I could take my top off, too, and you wouldn't even notice. Now you're all patched up, so go on upstairs and see how everyone else is doing cleaning up the mess you and Bobby made." "Hey, that wasn't our fault," Seth said quickly, holding up his hands. "All I was doing was watching TV and then I got shot at and tossed across the lawn and ended up down here, again. I swear to God, I've spent more time in the infirmary than I have in my room since I moved here." "But you keep managing not to get really hurt," Jean said thoughtfully. "You don't even need stitches." "Beginner's luck, I guess," Seth said, shrugging. "Let's hope it lasts. So, how pissed is the Professor?" "At you and Bobby? Not much, but he's been yelling at Nick Fury on the phone for about an hour," Jean answered. "It could be worse, I guess. We can still live here during the repairs, and the inside of the house will be fine with some paint and spackle. That hallway full of ice was a pain in the ass, but I moved most of it out with my TK. I think you broke Scott's heart, though." Seth's mouth dropped open, and he could feel the color draining out of his face. Jean was making notes on her palm pilot, updating what Seth assumed was his medical file, so she couldn't see the "oh shit" look on his face. He wondered if she could sense it, if he was throwing off some wave of "oh my God, does she know?" that her telepathy could pluck out of the air like a net pulling down a butterfly, but her face seemed the same when she turned back to him. "Oh, jeez, you take everything so seriously," she said, laughing. "Calm down. He's just pissed about the jet. I think he just stood on the lawn staring at it for about ten minutes when we came back, and now I think he's picking over every piece to figure out if any of it's salvageable. I'm going to have to go out to get him at some point, or he probably won't sleep. I'll have to tell him how worried you were, though. I had no idea you lived in such terror of Scott's disapproval." Seth had no idea what to say to her. She was smiling and giggling and talking about Scott and talking about him and Scott and all he could think of was how he couldn't get caught thinking about Scott naked but every time Scott's name came up it was the first thing he thought of and then the door flew open and saved him from having to say anything. Peter, dressed in dark jeans so tight they seemed to strain just to keep from exploding and a black t-shirt that was so tight and thin that you could see his nipples through it, dark ovals on his broad chest, filled the doorway, panting as if he had just run from wherever he was straight to the basement. His eyes slid right past Jean, barely taking note of her, and landed firmly on Seth. "Kitty says that you are hurt," Peter barked, crowding into the room. Seth stared, wide eyed, wondering if Peter was drunk. There was a faint smell of alcohol and sweat and whatever cologne Peter had started the night wearing, but more than anything else he just looked pissed off. "I'm," Seth began, swallowing, his voice low and timid. Peter bursting in like a tornado on the heels of Jean bringing up Scott's broken heart had him flailing inside, and he couldn't seem to get his footing. "Fine." "He's fine," Jean said, stepping smoothly between them and resting a hand on Peter's chest for a second. It was a tiny movement, but it seemed the check Peter for a second, giving everyone a moment's pause to catch a breath in. "I'm going to go upstairs to do something." "What?" Seth blurted, almost panicked. She was going to leave him and Peter here in the infirmary alone together? "I don't think it matters," Jean said, smiling, and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. Peter stood in front of the bench for a minute, staring at Seth, his dark blue eyes ticking all over Seth's naked chest before they settled onto the small, square bandage on his arm. Seth shivered, goosebumps rippling over him, and felt his nipples instantly harden into small pink points. He felt like he should cross his arms over his chest to cover himself, and couldn't tell if Peter was looking at him with concern, lust, or both. He felt like a specimen under Peter's gaze, an exhibit of some kind, and wondered what Peter was thinking. He looked mad, but who was he mad at? Seth? The Weapon X guys? Himself? All of the above? Peter took a step forward, crowding into Seth's space, and without asking reached for Seth's arm. His hands were soft, cradling it as he gently lifted it away from Seth's body with one hand. With the other hand he traced his fingers around the bandage, not really touching it, but following the tape with his index and middle fingers, appraising. His mouth was set in a firm, thin line, and when he finally looked up at Seth, still holding his arm in both hands, his dark eyes were unfathomable. His brows were laced together, and when he spoke his voice was low and concerned. "What happened to you?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Seth's wide light blue ones. "Did they shoot you?" "No," Seth answered, shaking his head a little, but not enough to break the eye contact. "No, it was part of the wall. The bullets hit it and there was, I guess, shrapnel or something, and it cut me." Peter nodded solemnly, his thumb rubbing the corner of the bandage, tape, then skin, then tape, then skin, and Seth realized that he was anticipating each touch, waiting for it to come each time Peter's thumb slid off the tape. "Are you in pain?" Peter asked, and Seth shook his head. He wasn't, really. There was a dull throb in his bicep, and a little bit of a pulling feeling when he moved his arm, but nothing really terrible. Peter stopped rubbing the tape, his hand sliding over to caress Seth's arm, his open palm sliding over it as he stared at Seth's eyes. "I am sorry I was not here." "Where were you tonight?" Seth asked, and a wave of guilt suddenly washed over him. He glanced down at Peter's hand as he realized it wasn't his own guilt, but was coming from Peter, and he noticed for the first time that Peter had a dark, smeary stamp on the back of his hand, a blurry spot of cheap ink. Peter had been at a bar, and for some reason being asked about it made him feel guilty. It flared up quickly but completely, not just guilt at not being here, but a more personal guilt that was directly related to Seth, some kind of betrayal. Seth jerked his arm out of Peter's hands, not wanting to read him. It was one thing to read Scott, to let their feelings run back and forth the way he had, but with Peter it felt wrong. He wanted to believe the things that Peter told him, to learn things from Peter rather than just reading it off of him like paging through a magazine. He hadn't even intended to use his power just now, hadn't realized he was until it flared up, but it was too late. He could tell by the shift in Peter's face that Peter knew, and, worse, that Peter thought he had done it on purpose. "I was out," Peter said quickly, stepping back. "Peter, wait," Seth began, wanting to explain, but Peter wasn't interested in whatever Seth had to say. He stomped angrily toward the door, his hands balled into fists and his giant cannonball shoulders tensed. "If I want you to know something, I will tell you!" Peter yelled, turning around and turning to steel at the same time. He smashed a fist into the doorframe, the sound of metal striking metal ringing through the room like a gong, and when he pulled it away Seth saw a rather large dent. Peter pointed a shining, trembling finger at him. "You do not ever use your power on me, ever!" "Peter, I didn't mean," Seth began, shrinking back on the bed. He'd seen Peter angry before, seen him fling the Toad across a neighborhood and punch Sabretooth through a house, but he never thought he would be on the receiving end. Before he could say anything else, Peter stomped out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Seth sighed, shaking his head. Why couldn't he and Peter just sit down and talk to each other without it ending in yelling and stomping and both of them not speaking? He tried to figure it out on his way to his room, but couldn't come up with any answers. Glancing out the front windows on his way through the foyer, he saw Peter tossing pieces of the jet into a dumpster on the lawn, throwing them into it with such force that the dumpster skidded back a few feet each time, and Seth figured Peter wasn't finding any answers, either. It didn't even make sense. Peter was the one who said he didn't want anything to do with Seth, so why did Peter feel guilty about going out to a bar? He was free to do what he wanted, and so was Seth. Or, at least, Seth was free to do what he wanted as soon as he figured out what that was. In the meantime, there was training and practice and hours in the gym with Scott, which turned out to be just as little fun as Warren had warned him it would be. "You missed the block again," Scott said, standing over Seth with his arms crossed. It had been four days since the Weapon X guys had stormed the mansion, and Seth had spent several hours of all four of them in the gym next to the Danger Room, working on hand to hand fighting skills with Scott. So far, most of those skills seemed to be learning how to fall on the floor and how to get beat up. If Scott's face weren't so serious the whole time, Seth would almost think he was enjoying beating the shit out of him. "We've been working on this for hours, Seth." "You keep going when I'm not ready!" Seth snapped, slowly pulling his sore body up off the exercise mat. "I'm fine when we're working on the old stuff, but you keep pulling shit we haven't gone over." "Because that's the way it's going to happen," Scott said. His voice was firm and almost patronizing, as if he thought Seth were a small or possibly stupid child. "Do you think the Brotherhood is going to stick to the moves you've practiced? You think Weapon X is going to ask if you're ready before they start trying to kill you? You have to be ready, all the time, or you're going to get hurt." "I'm doing the best I can," Seth grumbled, trying to adjust his costume. Scott had insisted that Seth practice in his X Men uniform so that he would be used to fighting in it, and after four days it was a lot less cool than it had seemed when the Professor showed it to him. The fingerless gloves still seemed pretty awesome, but they had these wristbands attached that were heavy and made it harder to move his hands. "Since you have to use your hands so much, the Professor thought you should have some protection on your wrists," Scott explained when Seth complained about it, but that didn't change the fact that Seth was going to have to work his arms a little more in the weight room. His legs, too, since it had matching boots that Scott finally admitted were probably just for aesthetics. "You're going to have to do better," Scott said quickly, spinning around with his boot flying toward Seth's face. Seth got his arms up in time to block the kick, but Scott followed it with another, then with a jab that hit Seth right in the ribs. Seth managed to pivot out of the way of the next swing and got a good hit to the middle of Scott's back with his hands laced together, dropping him to the floor. Before Seth could take more than a second to gloat Scott was already sweeping his legs out from under him, dropping him to the mat. He tried to roll aside, knowing that Scott was going to strike from above, but didn't quite make it, and got a fist to the stomach. "Ow!" Seth yelped, rolling onto his side. "You're enjoying this." "You keep saying that," Scott said, standing. He held out a hand to Seth. "But it's not true." "So you keep saying," Seth grumbled, letting Scott pull him up. Scott's glove slid against his fingers, and he realized that in four days of training Scott had been extremely careful to make sure that none of his skin ever touched Seth's. Seth could hardly blame him. They didn't have the best track record for keeping their pants on when that happened, and Scott had made it very clear by completely avoiding Seth outside of these trainings that he didn't want that to happen anywhere else. "You need to train yourself to move faster," Scott said, crossing his arms across his chest, biceps and pecs flexing at the same time. Seth tried not to look. "Your reaction time is way off." "It's not my reaction time," Seth protested. He looked down at his chest. "It's this stupid costume. It has too many stupid layers and crap. It's too hard to move in." "What are you doing?" Scott asked in surprise. "Streamlining," Seth answered, tugging at his uniform. He understood the need for the gloves and the armbands. There was no point in him getting close enough to touch someone if they were just going to grab his hand and snap his wrist. The boots weren't really a problem, either, but the upper half of the uniform kept slowing him down. There was a bodysuit like all the others had, plain old black, and over it the Professor had put some kind of short sleeved jersey type half shirt. It looked really cool, but it was just too many layers, and the two shirts on top of each other hindered too much of his movement. Seth pulled off the jersey, looked at the long sleeved spandex top, and frowned. It looked ok, but was kind of plain. Seth pulled that off, too. "You, um, you can't fight in just pants and wristbands," Scott said, staring at Seth. His bare chest glistened with sweat from working out, and his slim abs were jumping as he breathed, crunching and uncrunching as Seth held up the two shirts in his hands. Scott's voice lost a little of his usual harsh, commanding tone, and Seth wondered for a second what he was thinking. "You'll get hurt or something." "I'm aware," Seth said, pulling the jersey top back on. It stopped just below his pecs, leaving his stomach exposed, and the sleeves were almost nonexistent, but when he shifted left and right there wasn't any pulling or bunching or any of the other problems he'd been having. "You can't wear just that," Scott said, crossing his arms again. "Why not?" Seth asked. "If anything, the bare arms better the odds that I come in contact with whoever I'm fighting." "What if you get hit in the stomach?" Scott asked, dropping his gaze to Seth's abs again. "I mean, you could get cut or something." "No one worries about Jean getting hit in the stomach," Seth pointed out, tossing the long sleeved shirt off into the corner. "Hell, Kitty's in a skirt. What if she gets shot in the leg or a really high wind comes blowing up from underneath? Now, are we going to spar some more or not?" Scott stared at Seth for a moment, his eyes invisible behind the visor, and then he turned away. "No, we're done for the day," Scott said quietly. "Go hit the showers while I clean up." "Whatever," Seth sighed, walking off toward the locker room. Like it really mattered all that much if he changed the Professor's stupid uniform. Kitty said that Storm cut hers up into little pieces, and she didn't get expelled. Granted, she was on some kind of extended leave, but Kitty swore that was her own decision after "that thing at the amusement park", whatever that was. Seth found it hard to believe that with everything else they had in the mansion there wasn't a sauna or a hot tub. Granted, the mansion was full of teenagers and twenty year olds, so it was probably in the Professor's best interests not to have a lot of situations come up where they might be naked and wet together, but still, when you were tired and all your muscles were sore from getting dropped on a mat for a couple hours, it would have felt pretty good. The best Seth could do was staying in the shower with the water on hot, his arms resting on top of the dividers between the shower heads and his fingers wrinkling up like raisins. He should have been finished several minutes ago, but it felt good to just hang there and let the water beat down on him, washing the aches away for a little while. "Oh, sorry," he heard from the doorway to the locker room. Looking up, Seth saw Scott standing in the doorway, a towel around his hips. It had been a while since Seth saw Scott's bare chest with its firm pecs and dusting of dark hair that crept down his abs toward his waist, and he couldn't help but look. Scott had this magnetism about him, this inherent sexiness that just pulled your eyes onto him whether you wanted to see it or not, and it was all Seth could do to pull his eyes off of Scott's dark brown nipples and onto his face, where he had a special pair of goggles on for getting wet. Even though they'd been sparring and training together all week, they hadn't ended up in the showers at the same time because Scott kept finding something to do, like putting the mats away, that kept him busy until Seth was done, and now Scott started to step back into the locker room. Seth sighed, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous, Scott," he said softly. "There are nine other showers in here. I'm not going to jump you, and it's not like either one of us has something the other hasn't seen." Scott said nothing, standing in the doorway with one hand against it, his other hand hanging limply at his side. He looked down and Seth sighed, closing his eyes and ducking his head under the shower again. He figured there wasn't anything else he could say to Scott to try to patch up the rift in the team, but he'd tried. When he thought about it, if he counted the thing with Peter, then this would be the other rift in the team. Or, counting his fight with Bobby, the other other rift. Or counting Bobby's fight with just about everyone, the other other other rift. Or, if he counted Peter's continuous fight with the Professor, the other other other other rift. Or there was that thing with the Professor and Allison, which would be the other other other other, ah, screw it. The team was a damn mess, and he could just stop thinking about any of it and stay here in the shower for a while longer. "I'm not gay," Scott said from the doorway, his voice so low Seth almost didn't catch it over the noise of the shower. Seth didn't move, or even open his eyes. "I never said you were," Seth said. "You think you're the first straight guy I ever fooled around with? I did go to high school, you know." Scott continued staring at the floor, not really sure what to say. He'd been avoiding Seth for days, since before they went to Genosha, since the night he'd gone to Seth's room, actually. It wasn't so much a matter of not knowing what to say. It was more of what he was trying not to think. "I love Jean," he blurted, staring into the shower room. All he could see above the divider were Seth's arms, shoulders, and head, and he caught the little smile on Seth's face when he said that. It was small, no teeth, but it was there. Seth's skin glistened, and Scott told himself that the only reason he was looking was to see how that cut on Seth's arm was healing up. It had nothing to do with the way his muscles shifted or the way the water turned his light blonde hair darker, almost brownish. "I never said you didn't," Seth said, giving a little shrug. "Like I said, lots of guys have told me that, and lots of guys and I have done what you and I did. When you're out and guys are curious, sometimes things happen, like happened with us. It doesn't have to mean anything, and it doesn't really bother me." Scott looked down again. Maybe for Seth what had happened between them was just a run of the mill hookup, something that might just happen between two guys if they were lonely or horny or whatever, but it meant something else to Scott. A thousand thoughts were running through his head as he shrugged his towel off and hung it on one of the hooks, next to Seth's, and walked slowly into the showers. "You know what really bothers me, though?" Seth continued, unaware. The hot water felt so good, loosening up his shoulders and the stitch in his side where Scott had landed a particularly good kick. "I haven't done anything to deserve the silent treatment. I haven't come to your room, or tried to get you to do it again, or anything. I kind of thought we could be adults about this whole thing, and just chalk it up to `shit happens' or whatever, but you don't talk to me or look at me or anything. Even when we're training you go to all this trouble to make sure that you never actually touch me, and I've noticed that you won't even come near the shower if I'm still in here. It bothers the hell out of me that you don't trust me enough to not jump you in the shower, like you think I'm just going to molest you or something. That bothers the hell out of me." Seth waited to see what Scott would say to that. At least he'd finally gotten it out into the open. The past couple of weeks of Scott pretending he didn't exist were ridiculous, especially since, like he'd said, he was willing to just brush the whole thing off and pretend it never happened. Scott was the one who was dragging the whole thing out and making a big deal out of it, and now he was just going to stand in the doorway and stare and not say anything? Screw that. If Scott wanted the showers so badly, he could have them. Seth was tired of this game. "Fine, don't say anything," Seth grumbled, shutting his shower off. He turned, jerking to a stop as he found Scott standing in front of him. Naked Scott, with his hard cock standing up against his stomach. Scott grabbed Seth's face roughly, pulling Seth toward him, and jammed his tongue into Seth's mouth. Seth turned his head, pulling his mouth away, and Scott nuzzled the side of his face. "Scott?" "Shh," Scott sighed. His hands were all over Seth, grabbing and caressing, and he pressed Seth back against the shower divider, grinding laying his whole body against Seth's. His hands slid down to smooth over Seth's shoulders, and his chest pressed against Seth's, the hairs tickling Seth for a second before they were slicked down by the water left from the shower. His legs rubbed against Seth's, the firm muscles of his thighs flexing and his calves brushing Seth's. Between them, Seth could feel the hard spike of Scott's dick thrusting against his hip, and his own dick began to respond, hardening. Scott's fingers brushed his nipple, pinching, while the other pulled his head up again by the hair, and Seth gasped. Scott's mouth slid along his jaw, and then he was nibbling at Seth's earlobe. Seth's hips jerked as Scott's free hand slid down his abs, pushing through his wet pubes to wrap his fingers around Seth's hard shaft. "Jesus," Seth gasped. He was surrounded by Scott, Scott's body and Scott's smell and Scott's muscles and, most of all, Scott's need. It coursed through Seth the same way it had before, washing over him like a hot wave that set his body on fire, and Seth pushed it back, switching off his power. He needed to know what the hell was going on before he surrendered to this, but it was hard to talk with Scott's hand on his dick. "Scott?" "It's not you I don't trust," Scott whispered, his voice a husky growl in Seth's ear. Scott hadn't shaved since that morning, and Seth could feel the short stubble scraping his cheek as Scott licked his neck. Scott let go of Seth's dick, giving the head a last quick squeeze that made Seth's knees weak, almost buckling them. Seth would have fallen if Scott wasn't holding him up, and Scott's hand slid around to cup Seth's ass as he pushed their hard dicks together. "It's me." "What are you, unh, what are you saying?" Seth gasped. He could feel Scott's cock throbbing as it slid wetly along his, their shafts dancing against each other. Scott's chest pressed against his, and his hands slid along Scott's hips, feeling his body flex as he ground himself steadily against Seth. "I think about it," Scott whispered, reveling in the feeling of Seth's body against him. This wasn't like Jean, with her curves and soft spots. Seth was hard, all muscle and skin, but he was so smooth, too, and Scott couldn't feel enough of him at once. He could feel that Seth wanted this, too, and his dick oozed precum between them, spurting it down his shaft to mix with Seth's. Every few thrusts their cockheads randomly rubbed against each other, the slits almost seeming to kiss, and he shivered as the ridge at the base of Seth's head flicked the ridge of his own. "What we did, I think about it. When I'm with Jean, when I'm by myself, I think about you, and me, and what it felt like, and it's so fucking hot." "Fuck," Seth sighed. He glanced down and felt his knees get weak again when he saw his dick, the pink head and pale shaft surrounded by his amber pubes, rubbing against Scott's slightly larger cock with its tan head. Their balls slid against each other, and when he gasped again he felt Scott's chest pressed against his, the firm points of Scott's nipples rubbing against his skin. As Seth watched, feeling Scott sucking at his neck now, almost biting it, his own slit gaped open and thick white cum jetted out, spraying both of them. "Scott!" "I need you so fucking bad," Scott growled, feeling Seth spasm against him. He knew that Seth was cumming, could feel it spraying his skin and slicking his own dick, and he could smell it filling the shower, and it was as hot as he remembered. Seth was making noises, gasping, whimpering noises, and Scott thrust against him even harder, almost brutal now that he was so close. He remembered Seth's power, the feelings coursing through him, and Seth's mouth on his dick, Seth's tongue flicking, Seth's soft pink lips stretched wide around his cock, and he felt the cum seething in his balls. "Jesus, Seth!" Seth groaned, his mouth falling open, and Scott covered it with his own, sucking the air out of him, sliding his thick tongue against Seth's. He felt Seth surrendering, his body going limp as his head fell back, and he fucked his tongue into Seth's mouth, taking him as Seth whimpered again. Scott's cock exploded between them in one hard, final thrust, cumming so hard that Scott could feel every shot as it splattered and streaked across their chests and abs. He felt himself tensing, all his muscles hard, and he drove Seth into the divider, pinning him in place. As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and they were standing against each other, sticky and hot and messy. Scott reached over and turned the shower back on, still holding Seth up and caressing his body, running his fingers over the muscles, tracing all the lines and curves. Seth's eyes followed Scott's tan hands as they slid over his own paler skin, noticing that the backs of Scott's hands, like his chest and legs, had a light dusting of dark hair. Scott Summers reeked of testosterone, seemed to ooze it out of every pore, and Seth felt himself getting turned on again as Scott gently rubbed the thick cum off of their bodies in the hot water. "I'm not gay," Scott whispered, staring into Seth's eyes as they went wide. Seth bit back his argument that, you know, one time might not be gay but coming back for a repeat might be a little far from straight. "I don't know what I'm thinking, but I want you. I love Jean, but I can't stop thinking about what we did, and what else I want to do. I want to feel you, and touch you, and, I don't know. I just know that I want this." Seth heard the tremble in Scott's voice, the little shake of uncertainty seeming completely alien when Scott was usually so calm and firm and completely blank. He knew that this was wrong, that Scott was with Jean and this was bad for the team and everything else, but what was he supposed to say? It's not like he'd been fighting Scott off. "Can I come to your room later?" Scott whispered, tilting Seth's face up toward his. Seth swallowed, and then finally answered. "Yeah." Scott's mouth brushed over Seth's again, and Seth kissed him back. *** To be continued.