Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

BY : sundown
Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 971
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men nor do I make anything from this. Characters, including Kurt Darkholme, are the property of Marvel, X-Men. I do not work for them nor do I make anything for this.

 


   Kurt lounged in an over-stuffed chair next to his bedroom window.  It had been an eventful few weeks, and relaxation was slow in coming this evening.  He refilled his glass of scotch for the third time, noticing indifferently that his hand seemed to have stopped shaking.  Well and good; perhaps he'd get a decent night's rest when he finally managed to sleep.

 

 


 

   The digital clock blinked. It was twelve minutes after three in the morning. Looking at it with grit-filled and exhausted eyes, he debated on dragging himself over to the bed. It just wasn't worth the effort. He picked up the book he'd been trying to read for several hours and opened it, yet again. The words blurred on the page before him as he finally drifted off to sleep, in spite of himself.

 

 

 


   The lamp illuminated Kurt in a soft orange glow while he dozed.  His shirt was wrinkled and gaped open. His tail flopped over the arm-rest of the chair, and with his head pillowed on the wing and his arm dangling down, he looked almost lifeless. The faint rise and fall of his chest belied that. 

 

 

   Shadows, rising from every corner, begin to move stealthily towards him.  From under his chair they sinuously curled up muscular legs, wrapping themselves almost lovingly around him.  

 

 

 


   The dark mass gathered substance and form -- a shapely woman, cloaked in darkness, with skin pale as moonlight.  She caressed Kurt's sleeping face gently, her fingers lightly tracing the scarred tattoo over his eye. Her red lips moved close to his ear and whispered.  Mumbling incoherently in answer, he shifted in his sleep.  She chuckled softly and moved her hands down the length of his body. Those white hands were busy, loosening his clothing so they could slide over his fur, caressing and teasing him. 

 

 

 


Kurt, caught in the lethargy of slumber, moaned low in his throat. He moved under her ministrations and reached out blindly for his tormentor, his hands touching only air.  His muscles rolled and flexed under her pale, insistent touch.  She abruptly released him and stood. 

He slept on, fitfully enveloped in dreams, while she watched with a small smile touching her lips.

 

 

 


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   It was late summer, and Kurt was a young man still living at home.  He and his childhood friend, Sydney-Ann, had climbed the ancient apple tree in the back garden to while away the hot afternoon hours.  The air was redolent with the sweet fragrance of apples and sunshine on grass.  Kurt balanced carefully, his arms braced on the branch above him, as he leaned down to try and steal another kiss. Sydney looked up at him with a smile, her dark hair dancing in the breeze.  His lips had just brushed hers when they were interrupted by his mother's angry voice. 

"Dominik Kurt Darkholme, you get down here right now!"  Startled, he very nearly fell.  He recovered himself and looked down to his mother, standing with her hands on her hips.  "Ach, vhat have I done now?" he muttered, frustrated with the disturbance. The heat shimmered on the air, and, just for a moment, his mother looked different. Where she'd stood wearing trousers and a shirt, there was a ruddy-skinned woman in a brightly patterned skirt, with a headband holding back her long hair.  Why was his mother shape-shifting?  He stared, perplexed.  His gaze shifted back to Sidney, to see if she had noticed anything strange, and he found himself looking on a different girl altogether.  This girl was older, and blonde with large hazel eyes which held a piercing expression.  In that moment of confusion, the branch below him snapped and he was dangling by his arms while everything disappeared into whirling darkness around him. 

 

 

 


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   Kurt found himself lying prone, his arms still above him. They were aching, but when he tried to lower them, he was unable to. There was something in his mouth.  What the hell...? He thought as he looked around, trying to get his bearings. 

 

 

 


   His wrists were fixed above him, tied together. He was stretched out on a bench, and his feet were immobilized as well, on either side. His mouth was gagged tightly.  Even his tail had been secured to one leg.  For some reason, that infuriated him more than anything else.  Peering into the dark, he saw that he was in a small room of some sort.  He triggered a teleport in his mind, but nothing happened.  He tried again, then again, to no avail.  Kurt was beginning to feel the first worms of panic in his gut. More than anything else, he detested being held against his will.  It was a near phobia with him, to be so helpless. 

 

 

 


   To his right was a light - it looked like a candle - shining through sheer curtains covering the entrance to an adjoining room.  He could hear soft sounds from in there, humming and -- what was that other noise?   It was splashing.  

 

 

 


   Craning his head to see through the doorway, he could only stare. In the dim candlelight was a woman reclined in a large bronze tub, humming to herself while she bathed. She was either unconcerned or unaware that a man was being held prisoner in the next room. Shadows obscured her face and shoulders as she stood and stepped nonchalantly from her bath onto a fur rug, water streaming down her body.  Kurt got a profile view of her nakedness as she used a cloth to dry herself.  

 

 

 


   The woman was beautifully curvaceous, with full breasts and long legs. Her nipples showed up starkly against her pale skin. She donned a hooded robe, made from some sheer, dark material that looked almost like spider webs. 

 

 

 


Just as he had convinced himself she had no idea he was there, the woman took up a candle and walked in his direction with a small smile.

 

 


 

   As she parted the curtains and stepped into the room, he had a difficult time concentrating on his predicament. Her attire left little to the imagination. Though her face was obscured by the hood, save for her mouth and chin, her dark nipples stabbed at the fabric of the robe and, moving his gaze lower, her womanly cleft was clearly visible.  She smiled wider, and presented her back as she attached the candle to a sconce on the wall. When she turned to face him, he could still make out very little of her features because of the bright back-lighting. Kurt squinted his eyes in the glare.

 

 


 

"So,sleeping beauty awakens..."  Her voice was low -- what one would call a whiskey voice.  It had an amused tone. 

 

 

 


"And how do you find your accommodations, Mr. Darkholme?" she purred. 

 

 

 


   She took a seat on his bench, just down from his splayed knees.  "Not very talkative are you?"  She chuckled low at her own joke and revealed a tiny dagger in her palm,  the light winking off of the steel blade.

 

 

 


"You've been quite the busy boy. Poor Bobby, did he really deserve such a thing?  And that after all he'd done for you."

 

 

 


   Kurt watched her with narrowed eyes as she played with the little knife. All right, so she was perhaps someone from his own world.  And, like him, she was here for vengeance.  He renewed his struggles against the bindings.

 

 


 

   "You do seem to take to heart the old saying that revenge is a dish best served cold, don't you?" She added softly, as she ran her hand slowly up his leg to mid-thigh, then back down, flicking the dagger around so it pointed at him.  "Now let's see what we have here."  The woman expertly sent the point of the sharp little knife ripping into his pant's leg, barely grazing the skin.  Kurt flinched, then his eyes widened as she slowly cut upwards, slitting his trousers in her path all the way to the waist. She grinned and did the same thing with the other side before opening his clothes like one might open a parcel from a butcher. 

 

 


 

   "Well, well, well, isn't that nice."  She smiled over his organ and flicked it lightly with the tip of her knife.  "Quite the prize, Handsome."  Gently hefting his testicles with her other hand she let a finger stroke down his length. In annoyance, he felt himself stiffening under her touch. She chuckled and leaned her elbows on either side of him, her breasts grazing his erection through the thin fabric of her robe. Sliding her hands along his torso, she cut the rest of the buttons from his shirt and opened it.  Her left hand flatly stroked the fur on his chest, finding old scars.  "A bit battle-scarred, are you?"  Her breath teased his stomach, causing his shaft to pulse and his abdomen to contract. She smiled again, scraping the knife lightly over his left nipple, making it harden. 

 

 


 

   She sat up, catlike in her grace. The robe now gaped open, exposing the pale orb of a breast.  The hand empty of the knife slide down his chest, over his tense belly and found his throbbing manhood.  She stroked him slowly, with a firm touch, her other hand resting the knife at the top of his thigh.  Kurt groaned around his gag, his hips beginning to twitch in rhythm with her hand, in spite of his fury at such treatment. 

 

 


   "I'll bet you're wondering who I am, aren't you?" Her hand continued its attention.  She grinned at him from underneath the hood as she leaned forward, her red lips mere centimeters from his aching member.  "Who do you want me to be?" she breathed the words onto his tip, her lips barely flicking against him as she said them. 

 

 


 

   Kurt gnawed into the gag, stifling a groan and glaring his rage at her. This little game was one he'd frequently played with lovers over the years, but he'd never been on the receiving end. He pulled at his arm bindings and shifted his hips underneath her. That was a mistake. His cock made full contact with her mouth then, brushing against those soft warm lips. His sack contracted and he thought he would explode there, with no further provocation.  

 

 

 


   She chuckled low and leaned up, removing her hand from him. The knife was still clutched tightly in her other hand. She reached up then, and pulled back the hood of her robe. Kurt stared in dawning horror. Grinning, the woman's ghostly face shifted with the blink of an eye. One moment, she wore the face of Linda, the next instant, she was Emma*, then Sydney. As he watched, her features moved in the flickering light to resemble every lover he'd ever had, and every woman he'd ever desired.  Meggan, Jean, Ororo -- all of the unrequited attraction he'd felt in his lifetime.  Many were nameless, just faces in a crowd. Some he couldn't consciously remember. There was a red haired beauty in a nurse's uniform, and an exotic purple-haired alien who were both a mystery to him.  Böse!  Kurt's mind cried out.  He trembled, his blooming fear at war with unspent passion.

 

 

   The woman threw her head back and laughed. The sound was a mingling of many laughs.  Finally, overcoming her mirth, she turned her attention back to him. In spite of himself, he still responded to her touch as once again, her hand stroked him, and her blood colored lips curved into a coy smile. She moved slowly to place a knee on either side of his hips, her robe opened fully now.  Her sex glistened wetly, poised above him.  She balanced there on her knees for a moment as she positioned his shaft, then sank herself onto him. Her sheath was overheated, its tightness pulsing around him as she eased down his length. Once he was buried, it felt like it had been made for him. She moaned softly, lips parted, as she lifted herself off of him almost fully before sliding back down.  Continuing with agonizing slowness, she rode him.  A flush made its way up over her breasts and her eyes glazed with the pleasure she was stealing from his helpless form.  

 

 

 


   From far away, it seemed he could hear a soft voice, speaking in cadence. The words flickered across his consciousness like spidery legs.  "By water I call thee, by air I move thee, by fire I make thee burn, by earth I bid thee return."  The air around him crackled and shimmered as his ghostly lover moved in rhythm with the words.  Kurt groaned in spite of his terror -- it had been far too long -- and his hips bucked up to meet her, frustrated at the slow pace.  He wanted to grip her and impale her on his shaft, grinding into her heat.  A burning filled his loins, and he was nearly beside himself with the need for release. 

 

 


 

A knock sounded from nearby, harsh and loud.  Kurt jerked awake, breathing erratically and aching with desire.  "Vhat...? Verdammt!"  He realized he'd been hearing the banging for some time. 

 

 

 


"Hey, Pissy Goblin dude, wake up!"  Wade called from the other side of the door.

 

 

 


"You in there, man?"  A catchy drum beat was tapped out. "C'mon, the boss says we got a call, so suit up!"

 

 

 


"Ja, ja, enough vith the banging!"  Kurt yelled back.  He rubbed his still throbbing crotch. "Give me a moment, vill you?"  He headed for the bathroom and a very fast, very cold, shower.

 

 

 


As Kurt shut the door behind him, something dark moved from under his chair and skittered backwards impossibly fast into the shadows, as if it had never been.

 

 

 


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*Emma Steed - Damask, from the AoA universe

Böse  - evil


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