When Mortimer woke up next to a warm body, he panicked. Frozen in place, he held his breath, not even able to suck up the spittle that was slowly seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"If you drool on me, I might have to kill you," came the drowsy mumble from above. It seemed good-natured, but with Sabretooth, one could never be too sure.

Mortimer quickly slurped up the fluid that threatened to leak onto the bigger man's shirt and gulped. He trembled as he waited for the adrenaline surge to subside a bit. He pulled his arms in close to himself and tried to relax his hands so they wouldn't shake.

"You wanted to cuddle, and now you're afraid of it?" Sabretooth asked, rubbing his stubbly jaw against the top of Mortimer's head. "Fuckin' weirdo." He pulled the other back into him, feeling the smaller body resist immediately. "The hell?"

"I'm not used to it. I-" his voice cracked and he grimaced. He took a deep breath and his throat constricted, making the noise that came out sound like a sob. "Damn it."

"I already told ya I wasn't gonna hurt you. Ain't you never woke up next to someone before?"

"Not-" another swallow, "not in this context."

"Well, fuckin' relax." There was a brief pause filled with the sound of a loud rumbling in Victor's chest. A threatening purr, not quite a growl. "What situations have you woken up next to people in?"

"I'm not comfortable talking about it like this, mate."

"Over food, then?"

"I can't eat yet."

"Need to shit?"

Mortimer let out a small snort of laughter into the crumpled, surprisingly clean, white shirt in front of his face. "Not yet," he muttered.

Sabretooth's hand found its way under Mortimer's shirt and he slowly raked his nails up and down the other's curved spine. Toad shook for a moment more before relaxing into the touch. The blonde snorted at the quiet sounds the smaller man started making.

"Like that?" Sabretooth teased.

"'S good," he muttered, trying to keep himself from writhing under the light petting. "Loike bein' scratched," he said, "when it's gentle."

"I thought you had sensitive skin?"

"Ah do. Makes it feel so good," Mortimer drawled, straightening out his back, stretching, whining, splaying his hands over Sabretooth's chest.

Victor pulled back a bit, smirking at the way the brunette whined at the lack of contact, to watch the expressions flit over Mortimer's face as he traced patterns over the sensitive flesh. He licked his lips absently as Mortimer bit his slightly-too-big lower lip, his eyes half-lidded, lashes casting long shadows over his cheeks. When he pressed just the tiniest bit harder, Toad whimpered and surged forward, fisting his hands in Sabretooth's shirt.

"Good or bad?"

"Good," Mortimer gasped out, "so good."

"Still scared?" Sabretooth asked with another hard drag of his nails up the other's back.

"Only a little," Mortimer admitted.

"Wanna talk now?"

"Can't. Don't make me, please," he breathed as he squirmed against the blonde, reaching up to tug on a handful of curls.

"Then we should do something."

"It's-" Mortimer paused as the scratching did, huffing out a sigh of disappointment. "It's late."

"Or early," Sabretooth suggested.

"Either way," Toad muttered, playing with the locks he'd tangled his fingers in, twirling them around his digits. He hadn't meant to continue, but Victor looked at him like he expected him to. "There isn't anything to do at this time of night."

"Play poker?"

"No cards, mate."

"I got some."

"What would we bet?"

Sabretooth paused thoughtfully, his fingers moving slowly up and down the other's back as he thought.

"Secrets."

"Secrets?" Mortimer asked, raising a brow. He pulled his hand free from Victor's hair and pushed himself back a bit. He wasn't happy to lose the nails and calloused finger-pads that had been petting him, but seriousness called for some distance.

"Winner gets to ask the loser a question and the loser has to answer honestly."

"How will I know you're answering honestly?"

"How will I know you are answering honestly?" Sabretooth countered.

"Good point," Mortimer said, sitting up. "I bet you have a tell."

"Nope. I always wear the same pissed off expression when I play cards." Sabretooth sat up as well. He stretched, then leaned back on his arms. "So how 'bout it?"

"Are there limits?"

"Who needs limits? Limits are for pussies."

"So I can ask anything?"

Victor snorted. "If you manage to win a hand."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

Sabretooth got up and walked from the room. While the blonde was gone, Mortimer grabbed a pair of sweatpants and changed into them in his bathroom. He washed his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes, then looked at his reflection for a long moment. He frowned. He was getting thinner, he noticed. If only he had a normal skin-tone, he thought, he might be almost attractive by modern standards. The awkward hips and slightly hunched back could be hidden by his clothes and no one needed to know about his tongue. He tore himself from the mirror, muttering something about pointless vanity, and left the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him.

He found Sabretooth throwing a few things he'd gathered on the bed, and raised a brow. Chips, some kind of individually packaged cardboard-cake-snack, a soda, the cards, and Sabretooth held an open beer in his hand. He sipped it before setting it on the bedside stand.

"I feel overdressed. Maybe I should be wearing what I sleep in?" Victor joked.

"I don't think my eyes could handle it right now," Toad joked back.

Sabretooth's hands moved to his pants and he unfastened them. He chuckled as Mortimer's eyes went wide. The brunette flinched when the heavy jeans fell to the floor with a 'thud'. Sabretooth kicked them away and sat on the bed in all his plain white t-shirt and gray boxer-wearing glory.

"You didn't."

"I did." Sabretooth chuckled and pointed to the bed, motioning for Mortimer to sit. "We gonna play, or what?"

"Yeah, a'course." He sat and accepted the soda when Victor pushed it his way.

They were almost eerily silent as they played, and Mortimer had decided Sabretooth wasn't lying about the expression he wore when he played cards. The first hand went to Sabretooth.

Mortimer braced himself for way-too-personal questions, tightening his jaw. It went slack at the question he got instead.

"What's yer favorite color?"

"Uh," he stumbled for a moment and Sabretooth grinned. Bastard knew he confused him. "Red, maybe. It's the opposite of green."

"Fair enough," Sabretooth said and shrugged.

They played another hand. Sabretooth took it again.

"Ever been hunting?"

"Do birds count? Like, pigeons in the city?"

"Urban hunting. Interesting. Yeah, it counts."

"Then, yes," Mortimer said, reaching for a chip. Victor huffed out a chuckle at the dainty way the brunette held the greasy treat.

Mortimer took the third hand. A million questions niggled at him, but he chose a more obvious one; "How old are you?"

"Uh," Sabretooth said with much less stuttering and stumbling than when Mortimer had said the same thing a few minutes ago. "I don't remember. I'm older than the boss, older than every other useless bastard on this planet. Even Jimmy. Let's just say there was no such things as cars when I was born."

"Jimmy is... Wolverine?"

"Yeah," Sabretooth answered, a low growl building in his chest.

"How much older?"

"You already asked your question," Sabretooth said, dealing out another hand.

Sabretooth won.

"How many girls you had?"

Mortimer scoffed at the phrasing. "Two."

"Boys?"

"One."

"Is that number different when you count one night stands?"

"You're asking more questions now, too," Mortimer pointed out.

Toad took the next victory.

"Six years, I think," Victor answered without even waiting for the question.

"I wasn't going to ask that."

"Then what were you gonna ask?"

Mortimer took a moment to calm himself to ask the rather invasive question he was thinking of. He took a deep breath and followed it up with a sip of soda.

"You ever been in love?"

"Yeah," Sabretooth answered plainly, "and I'm never doing that shit again."

Toad took the next hand as well, and gave the big blonde a thoughtful look before asking his question.

"How do you feel about me?" It was a meek, pathetic utterance, his eyes cast down at the cards laid out on the bed.

"I already told you. I like you enough that I don't want you to die."

"I think that's a compliment coming from you," Mortimer said, his lips quirking the slightest bit.

"Damn straight it is. I can count the people that I actually give any fucks about on one hand," Victor said, holding his hand up and splaying his fingers.

"Is that it, though?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Do you consider me a friend?"

"I don't have friends anymore," Sabretooth said. He inwardly sighed at the slump of the other's shoulders. "But, you're the closest I've had in years."

At that, Mortimer's face darkened with a blush and he tried his hardest not to grin. Sabretooth snorted at the reaction. He dealt yet another hand, and won it.

He tore into one of the snack cakes before asking anything.

"I'm gonna throw your question back atcha."

"How do I feel about you?"

Sabretooth grunted an affirmative around a mouthful of... something.

"You scare me a little. I never know what you are going to do. You're too strong for me to feel entirely safe around you, too unpredictable."

"It's what I pride myself on," Sabretooth said with a grin.

"That said, I enjoy spending time with you. Well, sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"You put me in situations where I feel vulnerable. I don't like that."

"I could say the same about you."

"What do you mean by that?" Mortimer asked, startled into looking up. He tried to capture the other's eyes, but he was looking away, opening another beer. Mortimer had no idea where it came from.

"Save it for your next question," Victor said, growling under his breath.

"No, please?" Mortimer said, taking the cards to shuffle them.

"The big, bad Sabretooth admitting he gives a fuck about someone. It doesn't help my image, and someone could take advantage of it." The words held no emotion, the brute forcing it back down.

"It doesn't make you look weak to care about someone."

"Yes, it does," Sabretooth said with a quirked brow. He downed the nearly full beer and tossed the can to the floor. "And I don't care, I just don't want you to die. I couldn't possibly care about someone weak enough to try to take their own life."

"Yet I could care about someone who points out my shortcomings," Mortimer muttered. He bridge-shuffled, then splayed the cards on the bed. He picked them up and did it again before Sabretooth spoke.

"I know how you are, runt. I've seen the way you interact with the boss. You do anything for those half-assed compliments. You know he's using you, yet you do whatever he wants you to, anyway."

"I meant you."

"I know. I was ignoring that. The whole point of this game was to get that stick out of your ass long enough for you to talk to me about things that make you all squirmy and shit."

"Why, though?" Mortimer dropped the cards to the bed from about two feet above it. He watched as they spread out, then proceeded to pick them all up.

"What do you mean 'why'? Do I need a reason?"

"Usually," Toad responded, setting up a game of solitaire for himself.

"Would it be an acceptable answer ta say I'm curious?" Victor asked, leaning back. He pulled the chips closer to himself and ate a handful.

"It's as good an answer as any, I suppose."

"At first, I just wanted to get high off of you. I still do. But, if you die, I couldn't do that anymore, and I do like your sense of humor. It's a bit dark."

"Well, when you're in a dark place-"

"Ya break out of it and get on with life," Sabretooth interrupted. "Ain't nothin' you can do, so why give a fuck?"

"I'm not strong enough to do that," Mortimer said, not taking his eyes from the game.

"Mentally or physically?"

"Both." He paused for a moment to look over his game. "Emotionally, too, I guess."

"That's a big 'no shit'." Victor leaned forward to point to a card that should be moved. Toad put it in its new spot without question. "You're sweating," the blonde pointed out.

"I'm nervous."

Without another word, Sabretooth shifted around to get up to his knees and lean forward. Mortimer was about to protest, as it was moving the cards, but he stopped when thick fingers pushed his bangs out of his face. Sabretooth swiped his tongue over the other's forehead, and Mortimer closed his eyes. He made a strangled sounding noise when Sabretooth cupped his head and pulled him closer, pressing their parted lips together.

Sabretooth grinned into the kiss when Mortimer whimpered and twisted his fingers in his own sweatpants. It was a slow, almost tedious thing- a soft press of lips, no tongue, all gentle suction and warm, moist skin and fat morphing to fit the other's- and Mortimer couldn't get enough. He sighed when Sabretooth pulled away.

He freed his hands from the cotton and opened his eyes to find Sabretooth pushing everything from the bed; trash, unopened snacks, his card game. He couldn't find it within himself to say anything once Victor was kissing him again.

The larger man pulled them both down on their sides, but tilted them so that it was clear that he would be dominating the interaction. But, Mortimer noticed, even as Sabretooth kissed and suckled along his jaw and neck, that it was different. He only had one other kiss to compare it to, but the older man was being mindful enough of his own power that even the slide of his rough tongue over his lips felt like a tender caress.

Mortimer hummed softly when the tongue breached his lips, feeling much less invaded than he thought he would. It was glorious, even tasted good when their tongues met. He wanted to touch Sabretooth, to feel him under his palms, wrapped around his torso, between his clothed thighs, but the fear of being accused of 'leading him on' at a later date kept him docile. He kept his hands to himself, didn't even try to touch the other's hair as he'd been doing recently.

"Okay?" Sabretooth growled as he pulled back.

"Yeah," Mortimer breathed. "I just don't want to owe you anything," he said, gasping when he realized the words had come out.

"I don't know what else I can do to convince you that I'm not going to hurt you or force you into anything."

"I don't- I didn't- shit, I'm sorry," Mortimer muttered. Sabretooth lay back, still cradling Toad's head with the arm under his neck. "I don't want this to stop."

"Then take what you want."

"What?"

"I'm a little buzzed and feeling lazy." As if that summarized it. "I kinda wanna jack off, too, but you're layin' on the arm I do that with."

Mortimer quickly sat up. He looked down the length of Sabretooth's body. He felt his face heat at the bulge in his shorts, the way the flap was held open by his erection giving the brunette a peek at dirty blonde curls and rosy skin. And those thighs - Mortimer gulped - he wanted to touch them and feel the dramatic curves of his well-defined muscles. When he did reach out with his fingertips, he was impressed by just how hard they were, and explored the creases, the almost-soft hair. He wound up pushing the legs of the boxers up, so he could try to wrap his long fingers around one thick limb. They didn't come close to touching.

Jealousy flared briefly at just how normal the other's legs looked as Sabretooth spread his thighs. It was only accentuated by the fact that he knew just how powerful they were. He took a bit of comfort in the fact that his own legs were stronger, at least when jumping or kicking straight out, and far more flexible than the bulk under his palms.

"Jesus fuck. What are you doing?" Sabretooth panted. Mortimer pulled away, mortified. "I didn't say stop."

After a moment's hesitation, Toad got his feet under him and crawled up the bed to straddle the blonde, bracing himself with his hands on either side of his head. Sabretooth growled at the lack of contact and jerked his hips up, trying to get some friction, but Mortimer stayed out of reach. He pressed his parted lips to Victor's.

Moaning into the lip lock, Sabretooth moved his hand between them. When Mortimer tensed, he found his lower lip bitten, being gnawed on in such a way that he couldn't pull back. He didn't feel anything, other than the harsh bite, but he could see the blonde's shoulder working. He was-

"Oh. Oh," Toad said, then hissed, running his tongue over his bottom lip. That was certainly flattering.

"Touch me." It was breathy, but still an order.

"Where?"

"Fuck, anywhere. 'M close."

"Don't last very long, do you?"

"F-" Sabretooth started to growl an insult, but was cut off by a mouthful of a thick, wet, insistent tongue. Long fingers tangled in his hair and Victor forgot any anger he may have had when those well-kept nails scratched at his scalp and maneuvered his head for the perfect penetration. Sabretooth wrapped his free arm around Mortimer's middle, trailing his fingers along the waistband of the younger man's sweatpants.

"Ah," Mortimer gasped, pulling back for a breath, his tongue still wrapped around Sabretooth's. He brought both hands down over his neck and shoulders. He left one resting on the jerking shoulder, the motion a constant reminder of what he'd reduced the brute to. Sabretooth's lips sealed around his tongue and he sucked, and Toad moaned, drawing his other hand down over Sabretooth's clothed torso.

After a few minutes of Mortimer's petting and kissing, Sabretooth bit down on the greenish-pink intruder in his mouth and went stiff. The bite wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Bird bones and insect shells had been worse. Toad watched Victor's face through his pleasure; his wrinkled nose, his creased brow, the sigh of completion through flared nostrils. When the vice around the muscle in Victor's mouth relaxed, Toad pulled his tongue back and watched those boxy features soften.

Post-orgasmic bliss Sabretooth was very handsome. Much less terrifying, Mortimer noted. He even made the quietest appreciative noises as Toad brought his hands to his face to feel out the soft cheeks and the sharp whiskers. He raked his nails through blonde hair and smiled at the other's near-purring. He still had his arm wrapped firmly around the hovering body's waist, and didn't seem too keen on letting go any time soon.

"You want anything?" Sabretooth drawled.

At the question, Mortimer realized that, even through the terror and uncertainty he felt through the situation, he was half hard and still growing, slowly. "Um," he said, shifting his hips, looking down at his sweatpants and the slight bulge in them. When he pulled back, it couldn't be seen anymore. "I don't know if-"

"I can jerk you off while we kiss."

"You'd do that?"

"As long as I don't have to move too much. I'm feeling lazy."

"You really are a big cat, aren't you?" Mortimer said with a quiet chuckle.

"I guess that makes you a cat-kisser, then. Come here, you freak," Sabretooth said, pushing Mortimer's sweatpants down with the hand at his back. He slid his hand down over one firm cheek, then down between them.

"Wait-don't-" Mortimer gasped, tangling one set of fingers in the long sideburns.

"Not gonna, just want to feel," Sabretooth said, reaching even further to brush the ends of his nails against the other's testicles. "Give me your mouth."

So he did. With a jerky motion, Toad took the others lips, attempting to suck them in his mouth, it seemed. Sabretooth chuckled and took hold of Mortimer's now bare hips, pulling him close. The brunette whined and pressed his tongue against the seal of the other's lips. Victor sucked the appendage into his mouth while maneuvering his hand between them so he could lift his shirt.

Mortimer cried out at the hands on his lower back, pulling him down to rut against the surprisingly soft stomach, the hair there making for an interesting sensation.

"I thought," Toad panted against Sabretooth's cheek, "I thought you were going to jerk me off?"

"Would you prefer that?"

"No. I mean, this is fine," was the answer, punctuated by a few cautious thrusts. Mortimer mouthed at the corner of Sabretooth's lips, and even bit at his cheek.

The blonde chuckled and drew his nails up the other's back, reveling in the shiver it caused. Once more, they kissed. It grew nearly unbearable with Toad's tongue stuffed in his mouth, touching and tasting places one normally couldn't reach, his thrusting against the blonde becoming frantic. Sabretooth growled his assent to Mortimer's quickly approaching orgasm.

The brunette whined into the other's mouth as his seed slicked his thrusts against the warm belly. When he went lax, Sabretooth held him up by his hips, earning a whimper when it prevented him from thrusting lazily. He buried his face in the thick neck and blonde curls to wait out waves of pleasure.

"You good?"

"Yeah," Mortimer answered, pulling his pants up and slumping to his side. He curled up against Sabretooth, and watched through half-lidded eyes as the brute ran a finger through the mess on his stomach.

He brought it to his lips and sucked it clean. Then made the most hilarious face Toad had ever seen him make.

"That's fucking awful. Do you cum acid?" Sabretooth complained.

"You didn't have to put it in your mouth, love."

"I want to see if it's anything like your sweat."

"Uhn," Mortimer groaned against the thick shoulder his cheek rested against. "Shower?"

Sabretooth made a sound of protest.

"I don't want to have to change the sheets yet."

"Fine," Victor grumbled with an overdramatic roll of his eyes.

"And I kinda wanna wash and brush your hair," Mortimer admitted quietly.

"You are not going to domesticate me."

"That's not my intent."

"Mmhm," Victor hummed sarcastically, but pulled himself to his feet anyway. He stretched lazily. "Well, c'mon," he said, dropping his shorts and peeling off his shirt.

Mortimer followed just as sluggishly, chin ducked to his chest to hide his small smile.

In the shower, Sabretooth groused through leaning over to allow Toad to wash his hair. But he wound up enjoying the massage. He didn't want it to end as the other tilted his head back to rinse it out. Then Mortimer offered conditioner. Victor accepted just for the chance of another scratch.

Sabretooth returned the favor, forcefully, even through the other's loud protesting. Victor simply smirked and rubbed harder, watching bubbles and light purple liquid soap run down Mortimer's neck, over the slight hump of his back, and shook off the silly urge to nip at the other's freckles.

"Hey, is my door locked?" Mortimer asked as he half-watched Sabretooth dry off behind him in the mirror, pretending to be fussing over his own eyebrows.

"I think so. Why?"

"I prefer to air-dry," he admitted, taking a towel to his hair briefly.

"I can check," the blonde grunted, leaving the humid room. "Yeah," he called out.

Toad came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He gathered up their discarded clothes and put them next to the bedside stand, moved the shoes next to the door. Sabretooth snorted.

"I'm surprised you didn't fold them," he said.

"They're dirty," Mortimer reasoned.

"Good point. Back to sleep for a few hours?" Sabretooth asked, holding out an arm. The gesture made Mortimer smile. He wanted to jump into the other's embrace and snuggle, even if he wasn't sleepy. Instead, he restrained himself.

"As soon as I dry off a bit, yeah."

Sabretooth grunted and laid back. Mortimer couldn't bring himself to care that the giant, feral cat-like man was getting his pillows and comforter wet. Victor was dozing by the time Mortimer crawled into bed with him.