Playing with Fire | By : taekwondodo Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 11529 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: don’t
own any X-Men, though I sure wish I did…sigh…
PLAYING WITH FIRE
Kurt lay stretched
out on the small dock by the boat house, letting the warm afternoon sun dry the
last dampness from his fur, his tail and thoughts both drifting idly. He had slipped back into his boxers after his
short swim, but the rest of his clothes lay haphazardly where he had let them
fall before diving into the lake’s refreshingly cool water.
He had little fear
of being disturbed, as the water was still much too cold for most at this time
of year. The boxers just seemed a
reasonable concession to modesty in case someone came looking for him. It wasn’t until full summer that anyone not
used to the frigid waters of Alpine lakes and streams would risk swimming in
the chill water. Then Kurt would have to
share his quiet haven with a dozen other raucous teenagers. For now, though, it was his own private
retreat and he was determined to enjoy the beautiful spring afternoon – out of
sight of the construction site that had been his home until recently and away
from the unending speculation among the other students over what would happen
now that they were “out of the closet” so to speak.
It had been over
three months since the night of the Sentinel incident had destroyed their home
and unmasked them all as mutants – ‘homo superior’ as Magneto liked to style
them or, alternatively, a dangerous and uncontrolled menace to humanity
according to a vocal and rabid segment of the media, Washington insiders and
the population at large. They were
‘allowed’ to remain in school on sufferance, but Principal Kelly despised them
and didn’t bother to hide it. This led
to all manner of not so subtle abuse and discrimination by students and staff
alike. Likewise, they frequently had to
make their way to or from school through a throng of picketers at the Institute’s
gates bearing signs with slogans ranging from the simple ‘MUTANTS GO HOME’ (this is
our home, morons, he always thought with some frustration), to the somewhat
more creative, though grammatically incorrect, ‘WE DON’T WANT NO MUTIES
SWIMMING IN OUR GENE POOL’. The first
day someone had shown up with that particular sign Rogue had just about gone
nuclear on them. Kurt smiled as he
remembered her launching herself at the man, he and Scott hanging on her arms
to restrain her, as she yelled, “Yeah asshole, well you’re just paddlin’ around in the shallow end anyway!”
The younger
students, who had never been enrolled in local schools, were not even allowed
to risk leaving the grounds without an adult now – those whose parents hadn’t
yanked them out of the Institute, anyway – and the rest of them went everywhere
in pairs or groups in an effort to discourage trouble. Adding insult to injury, everyone, right
down to little Jamie Madrox, spent every spare minute
on the gargantuan task of helping rebuild the mansion complex. The Professor had, of course, hired some
very…discreet…contractors for the
bulk of the work, but there was still more than enough to keep the rest of them
working, with or without powers, for most of the last three months.
Kurt’s only
consolation in the whole mess was that, amazingly, no one had yet made the
connection between the televised images of
a fuzzy blue Nightcrawler and Kurt Wagner,
local teenage mutant - despite rather obvious similarities in both appearance
and ability. He had, after all,
teleported repeatedly in front of a large number of people the night of the
school board meeting that Duncan Matthews and the Brotherhood had crashed and
trashed. He could only suppose it was
because people just couldn’t wrap their minds around the possibility that a
furry blue demon could actually be prancing around in their midst without their
knowledge. It made him inordinately
grateful that the holographic imaging technology used in his watch was so
uncommon and expensive that it hadn’t even occurred to the government, let alone anyone else, that the monster they’d seen on
TV could be anything other than a total, visible ‘freak’ 24/7.
Even though he was
still painfully, morbidly ashamed of his efforts to hide his mutant status when
Magneto first ‘outed’ them,
he really wasn’t ready for the full extent of his mutation to become public
knowledge if there was any way he could reasonably prevent it. In fact, he was starting to get really irritated with Amanda and her 'let
them see how wonderful the real you is' line.
His teammates were having enough trouble as it was, adjusting to their
sudden pariah status, and he wondered what they’d make of the mayhem that would
doubtless erupt if people found out just what was walking their streets and
attending school with their children. He
suspected that Scott’s deadly optic blasts would pale in comparison to the
perceived threat posed by a living, breathing demon in their midst.
“Ach, Verflucht,”
he barked with an exasperated sigh, rolling abruptly onto his back and letting
his golden eyes drift up to catch the matching gold of the sun. “I was not going to think about
this! That was the whole point of
getting away from everyone,” he murmured emphatically to himself. The Professor had given them all an amazing
free afternoon and he was determined not to waste it brooding about
things he couldn’t change or that might never happen. Despite his innately sociable nature, after
almost three months of sharing a very small, metal, sub-basement room with Mr.
Military himself and almost every other waking moment with over a dozen other
stressed mutants, the silence and solitude of the lake was just what he needed
and he was going to enjoy it if it
killed him.
Mein Gott, I am spoiled he thought with some chagrin. After all those years of sharing rooms and
even beds in cramped circus trailers it amused him greatly to realize
that he was actually feeling crowded after only three months with Scott as a
room mate. “Ach, how quickly we adjust
to luxury,” he mumbled sleepily.
He stretched lazily, his tail switching idly
next to him, and blinked slowly up at the errant wisps of cloud drifting in the
tranquil blue of the sky. He was just
regaining his lost equanimity under its soothing influence and relaxing into a
light doze when the sound of footsteps on the path to the dock brought him back
to reality. He blinked groggily and
turned only his head to see who was intruding on his solitude, grateful for his
decision to slip back into his boxers after his swim when he recognized the
slight form of Kitty Pryde strolling down the path
toward him. He didn’t think she was
quite up to the shock of stumbling on elf ‘au naturel’
and he certainly didn’t need the
embarrassment.
“Guten Tag, Kaetzchen,” he called softly to her, toying briefly with
the idea of reaching for his pants and shirt before deciding that his boxers,
despite being a bit damp, did indeed cover everything that modesty required.
“Hey Fuzzy,” she called back as she stopped a
few feet away to gaze down at him. Her
voice was devoid of its usual…‘perkiness’…he thought, for lack of a better
word, and her gaze was distinctly mournful.
“What are you doing down here Liebchen?” he asked as he began to push himself slowly up
to a sitting position, finding it rather uncomfortable to stare directly up her
nose while conversing. That motion was
brought up short as she plopped bonelessly down next
to him and then stretched out with her head pillowed on his shoulder.
“Looking for you, Fuzzy Elf,” she responded
with a hint of a sigh.
Despite a rocky start, he and Kitty had
developed a close friendship over the last few months and he was only a little
surprised by this unexpected intimacy.
After a brief hesitation, he lifted his left arm – the one she was
laying on – and placed his hand companionably on her hip.
“Want to talk about it?” he inquired gently,
knowing that, whatever was bothering her, she would have no peace until she had
gotten it off her chest.
She heaved another sigh at his question and snuggled
down more comfortably, one arm pinned beneath her and her free arm draped
casually across his furry belly, fingers trailing aimlessly through his
fur. Looking down, he was startled by
the contrast between her smooth, pink arm and the deep indigo of his short,
dense fur.
“Yes.
No. Oh, I don’t know!” she
finally blurted, distracting him from further observations. Whatever was bothering her, she was seriously
worked up over it. He lifted his hand
from where it rested on her hip and lightly stroked her glossy brown hair,
turning his head slightly to drop a light kiss on her forehead.
“What is it Kaetzchen?”
he asked the top of her head, his voice as quiet and soothing as he could make
it.
There was a momentary silence as she
struggled to put her thoughts in order, during which she continued to run her
fingers through the fur of his belly and side in a very distracting way,
tracing lightly along the sharp lines of his muscles and ruffling the fur idly
as she went. It felt disturbingly good
and he was about to reach out and stop her when she abruptly began to speak.
“It’s my folks Kurt,
or, not them really. But, oh, I don’t
know! Everything I guess,” she blurted
out. He was surprised to realize that he
felt tears beginning to soak through the fur beneath her head,
she was so quiet he hadn’t even realized she was crying. Instead of reaching to stop her idle ruffling
of his fur, he reached his hand out to gently tilt her head up so he could look
into her tear streaked face.
“What has happened Liebchen?”
he asked gently. “Begin at the beginning
and tell me everything. I’m sure it
cannot be so bad as to justify marring that pretty face with tears,” and he
smiled teasingly at her.
She sniffed loudly and managed a faint smile
for his mock gallantry. It had begun, so
long ago it seemed, as his way of trying to convince her that he was harmless,
friendly and somewhat comical, rather than the monster she had seemed more than
half convinced he was when she first joined the team. It had since evolved into a running game
between the two of them – him flirting outrageously while she made constant
‘complaints’ about his shedding, voracious appetite and propensity for showing
up at inopportune moments with no more warning than a ‘bamf’
and the stench of brimstone.
He again waited
patiently while she tried to get her tears under control, gently wiping them
away with his large, calloused thumb where they were dripping from her jaw and
trickling into his fur. He knew that she
would speak when she was ready and he was willing to wait. His reputation for being a fuzzy blue
candidate for Ritalin was well-deserved as far as it went, but when necessary
he could teach patience to a stone.
After a few more
sodden moments of snuffling and gasping, Kitty again managed enough coherence
to begin. “I just, like, got off the
phone with my cousin Alexia and it’s just so…
Oh!” She squealed in frustration
and thumped him sharply on the chest.
“It just makes me so mad! Mom and
Dad haven’t been telling me anything and the only reason it, like, even came
out now is because my Mom lost her job and it’s, like, totally because of
me!”
Kurt could feel
her thin shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion as she tried not to cry
again and he held her tighter, wishing that he could somehow shield her from
the ugliness of their situation. He
suspected that of all his friends Kitty was the one who was suffering the most
from their sudden notoriety. She did her
best to put on a brave face and spoke optimistically of working for mutant
acceptance, of how the anti-mutant picketers and pundits were just bigots whose
opinions were not going to affect how she lived her life, but he was certain
that the backlash hurt her deeply. She
had lived a very sheltered life before joining the team, Daddy’s little
princess in every way, and she tended to feel everything very deeply and to let
everyone around her know it. Kurt was
certain that it was not a good thing for her to bottle up her emotions as she
had done for the last few months and now, although it looked to be landing him
on the receiving end of a thorough drenching in salt tears, he was glad that
she was finally letting some of the hurt out.
“Schatz,” he asked
softly, speaking into her soft brown hair, “how can your mother losing her job
be your fault?” He was fairly certain he
knew the answer that was coming, but it might get her talking again, rather
than just crying in his arms.
“Well,” she
sniffed again, “Mom was, like, really upset when I talked to her and she, like,
told me she’d lost her job. But she just
said it was, like, lay-offs and then made small talk – you know, like Mrs. So
and So’s good looking son in college and crap like
that,” she said, imitating a stereotypical Jewish mother, although Kurt knew
that Mrs. Pryde was really nothing of the sort. Obvious signs aside, he knew just how upset
she was by the steady decline in her grammar – they had almost succeeded in
breaking her of injecting ‘like’ and ‘totally’ into every other sentence and just
now she was backsliding horribly.
She paused for a
deep breath and Kurt realized she was still fiddling aimlessly with his fur –
now she was running her hand up his side to his chest, tracing the outline of
his right pec and then running it back to the waist
band of his boxers, only to begin again.
She was obviously unaware of what she was doing and he tried to ignore
the distraction as she began to speak again.
“After I got off
the phone with Mom I called my cousin, because I can, like, always con information
out of her, and it took a while, but she finally, like, told me everything
Kurt!” With this rather unhelpful
statement she began to cry again in earnest.
“Shhh, shhh Kaetzchen,”
he soothed. “It’s going to be alright Liebchen. What is
this ‘everything’ she told you that is so horrible, hmm?” and he ran his
fingers gently through her tangled hair, trying hard to be reassuring without
sounding as though he were making light of her pain.
Her tears
gradually subsided into a fit of hiccoughs that he would have teased her for
any other time, now he just patiently stroked her hair and wiped her tears
through it all while she continued to trace random and vaguely disturbing
patterns in his fur. He briefly found himself
thinking how glad he was that she wasn’t one of those people whose noses ran
when they cried - having his fur saturated with tears was one thing, but snot
would have been an entirely different matter - and was ashamed of himself for even thinking something so flippant in the face
of his friend’s anguish. Of course the
irritation of being used as a combination plush toy and giant worry stone was a
small price to pay if it could help her work through her pain. Besides, it was a good feeling to know that
she felt comfortable coming to him; it certainly hadn’t always been so.
Finally she
regained enough coherence to speak again and continued in a sad and subdued
voice, “Oh, Fuzzy, it turns out the whole family’s been keeping stuff from
me. They didn’t want to worry me. I had to all but pry it out of Alexia with a
crow bar, but it turns out that Mom’s been, like, getting harassed at work ever
since we got ‘outed’ on national television. Her boss cooked up some lame-o excuse to fire
her, but it’s really because she had the gall to stand up for mutant rights and
to admit that she ‘spawned’ one of those ‘freaks.’”
It was Kurt’s turn
to sigh as it became increasingly clear where this was going. He knew it was one thing to feel threatened
yourself, but to be the source of trouble for your family was completely
different. It clearly had never occurred to her that
her mutant status would have any effect on her family, and he hated to see her
innocence shattered by the cruelty of small-minded bigots. He’d dealt with being a ‘freak’ and a monster
his entire life and, although it never ceased to be painful, he’d had years to
grow a (relatively) thick skin – for his friends it was painfully new and
difficult.
It had been hard
enough for most of them to suddenly discover that they were ‘different’ in such
an extreme way, but they were managing to deal with it. Having everyone else suddenly find out that
they were different, however, was a whole new ballgame, and none of them really
knew the rules.
He realized
abruptly that Kitty had begun speaking on topic again after a brief pause,
during which she had come up with some rather colorful and unflattering
descriptions of her mother’s ex-boss – covering, rather thoroughly, his
parentage, his intellectual ability, his sexual proclivities and his unclean
personal habits. Kurt was both surprised
and impressed that she even knew all those words, although he would have been
scandalized had he thought for a moment that she really knew what all of them
meant.
“…at the market,
some horrible old lady shouted at her in the frozen food aisle that she should
be ashamed of herself and Mom, like, shouted back and store security actually
made her leave – escorted her out to the parking lot and everything!” She was getting angry now and her voice was
becoming increasingly heated, her tears giving way to snorts of rage and her
ramblings through his fur becoming less idle and more emphatic. “The neighbors,” she continued scornfully,
and Kurt could feel her quivering with anger now, “the neighbors, won’t talk to them and they’ve actually found notes on
their door telling them they should, like, sell the house – apparently their
having a mutie freak
for a daughter is driving property values down!
And, oh Kurt,” her voice broke abruptly and she was on the edge of
sobbing again, “they’ve stopped going to Temple because Mom can’t stand it when
people get up and leave when they come in.
Rabbi Meier has been, like, really supportive and everything. He said that if anyone should be tolerant of
differences it’s Jews, but when he said it people actually, like, got up and
left and some, like, even resigned from the congregation. I grew up in that Temple Kurt. I had my bat-mitzvah there. I know, like, everyone, and people have left
because of me.”
Her voice was so
sad and lost now that it almost broke his heart.
What price for innocence lost? he wondered. What price for the shattering of a child’s
faith?
He wasn’t even a
whole year older than she was, but at the moment he felt like he was holding a
little girl in his arms while her world crumbled away around her – she should
be worrying about boys and parties, clothes and grades, not about whether her
very existence was an affront to humanity.
It never even occurred to him to resent that he had hardly ever had the
luxury of innocence to be shattered in this way. His introduction to the ugliness of hatred
and fear had come at the ripe old age of five and it was a lesson he’d had
repeated many times over the intervening years.
To him, it had simply become a fact of life, but it pained him deeply to
see his friends having to learn it for themselves. He could only hope it was a lesson that would
not leave them bitter or hopeless. The
loss of innocence was a tragedy, the loss of hope, of faith, was unthinkable.
“Kaetzchen, I’m so sorry.
So very sorry.”
Kurt held her tightly as she sobbed out all her heartache into the soft,
and now very damp, fur of his chest.
“Oh Fuzzy,” she
burst out, barely managing to speak through her tears, “it was one thing when
I, like…thought it was… just me, but…they’re, like, tormenting my family
too. I’m just so sick of it, Kurt! Sick of the news stories
about the ‘mutant menace’, sick of the picketers and the jerks at school. I’m sick of Principal Kelly and losers like
that witch at the supermarket! They’re the freaks, not us.” She paused
for breath in her tirade and, as she abruptly buried her face in the damp fur
of his chest, he realized his own eyes were now brimming in sympathy for her
pain. The spring sunshine which had felt
so warm and welcoming less than an hour ago now seemed cold and feeble and he
suppressed a shiver as he wrapped his arms even more tightly about her.
“Did you realize,”
she asked in a choked voice, “that someone’s actually suggesting that we should
all be rounded up so the government can keep an eye on us – ‘for the public
welfare’? There was even some idiot on
TV with a sign that said ‘The only good mutant is a dead mutant’ and Rogue saw
graffiti out by the dumpsters at school that said ‘die mutie
scum.’
Oh!”
she exploded, almost screaming now, and he was more than a little surprised
that she still lay pressed against him, rather than pacing from the force of
her agitation. “I’m just so sick of it. People who don’t even know me want me dead
just because I was born.
“I
just want to be normal again. I just
want to wake up and find out it’s all been a bad dream, a nightmare. I just want it all to go away!” She broke into sobs again, pounding lightly
on his bare chest.
Through
this last tirade Kurt had lain motionless, his hand frozen in her hair, his
face twisted in anguish at the hatred and ugliness humanity insisted on proving
itself capable of - his disbelief had died painfully so long ago that he
couldn’t even remember the last time cruelty had truly surprised him. Still, he had to keep hoping for the best,
even if he could never really expect it - hope and faith were, after all, the
only things that made it possible for him to get out of bed in the morning. Faith in God or faith in the Professor's
dream - he wasn't always sure which, but either was enough.
“Oh
Kaetzchen,” he whispered harshly, his own voice now
thick and choked with tears. “I know, I know Liebchen. I wish it could be so.”
He
was beginning to think that the next time he passed the picketers at the gates
he was going to have a very hard time restraining the urge to rip someone limb
from limb. Yeah Wagner, that’d sure improve their opinion of us, he thought
with some asperity.
He
felt Kitty tense against him, her hand freezing on his stomach as she lifted
her head to look him in the eyes. He was
utterly surprised by the look of dawning horror on her face and was just
beginning to worry about what might have put it there when she reached her hand
up to trace a tear track down his furry cheek and sobbed, “Oh Fuzzy, I’m so, so
sorry!” and her voice cracked with
shame and anguish.
His
concern turned to confusion as he wondered just what it was she thought she
needed to be sorry for.
“I’m
being so, so weak…and p-p-pathetic!
You’ve had to, like, deal with this your whole… life and you, like,
never complain or anything…and here I am…breaking down like a baby after only a
few stupid months!” She was sobbing
again now.
She
buried her head in his shoulder again and wrapped her arm tightly across his
chest as he tried to assure her that he was fine and no she wasn’t pathetic but his words
fell on deaf ears as she continued in a rush.
“I don’t know how you, like, do it Kurt.
How can you still be so, like, normal, when you’ve had to go through
this kind of shit your whole
life?” Kurt had to stifle a snort of
laughter at her choice of words - imagine anyone, ever, calling
him normal.
“I
mean it Kurt,” she insisted, sensing his disbelief. “You’re not, like, bitter. You don’t get angry. You just take it all and go on with life and
you’re, like, the nicest person I know.
I was so totally evil to you when I first came here and you’ve, like,
never once gotten angry with me or anything.
You’ve never been mean. I don’t
even know how you can stand to look at me, let alone be my friend. I could just shoot myself when I think about
it!”
“Nein, Liebchen,
nein. That would be dreadfully messy and
such a terrible waste – denying the world your budding culinary genius. And if you did that who would I torment with
obscure movie trivia or humiliate at Scrabble?”
He was rewarded with a small snort of laughter and continued in all
seriousness, “Besides, you were frightened, your whole life and everything you
knew and expected had just been turned on its head without a moment’s
warning. It was only normal to react
with fear.” He tightened his arm around
her shoulders and once again ran his fingers gently through her now sweat damp
hair.
“But
Kurt,” she insisted, “that doesn’t, like, make it right.” She lifted her tear stained face to regard him
seriously. “I mean it Fuzzy. How can you still be so gentle and forgiving
after dealing with this kind of fear your whole life? How can you even stand to look at
me?" Her voice was soft, her
expression so pained that it tore at his heart.
"How
can you not hate me, hate all the stupid bigots who call you a monster just
because of the way you look?” Her eyes
were burning into his, the tears running freely down her cheeks. He reached a hand out to wipe them gently
away.
“I
could never hate you Schatz,” he murmured quietly, “you are one of my dearest
friends, nein? You were confused and
frightened when you came here. How could
I hate you for that? And as for the
rest, well, they are confused and frightened too, and I do, after all, look
remarkably like a refugee from Michelangelo’s Last Judgment. Who can blame
them for being frightened? You just
needed time and,” he grinned impishly at her, his fangs glinting in the late
afternoon sun, “exposure to my unique and irresistible charm. Do you think that might be the trick for the
rest of humanity as well?”
She
managed to smile at this, her tears subsiding as a small giggle escaped her.
“Oh
Fuzzy Elf,” she said with a tremulous smile, “why does just talking with you
make everything seem so much better? I
do love you, you know. What would we do
without you?” And to his very great
surprise she leaned down and planted a very gentle, and very wet and salty,
kiss on his lips. She lingered just long
enough that he was beginning to wonder if it would be rude not to respond when
she pulled back to eye him speculatively.
Her hand was again running through his fur and there was a sparkle of
mischief in her eyes as she shifted so that more of her was pressed against the
length of his body.
“Do
you know,” she asked softly with another giggle, “that your fur feels just like
velvet? Why haven’t I ever noticed that
before?” and she ran her hand up his bare chest in a way that made him acutely
conscious for the first time in the better part of an hour that he was wearing
nothing but his boxers and she was in short shorts and a very brief crop top.
“Uh,
Kaetzchen,” he began nervously, his tail lashing and
his right hand moving to stop the now very
distracting things she was doing with his fur.
Further
attempts at conversation on his part were stifled when she again leaned down
and pressed her lips firmly to his.
There was absolutely no question this time as to whether it would be
rude not to respond and Kurt found himself returning the kiss with unexpected
enthusiasm. Some part of his brain tried
to tell him that he should be stopping this, not encouraging it, that she was
emotionally unstable and looking for comfort – he should gently but firmly put
a stop to this now. An entirely different, and much larger, part
of his brain, however, couldn’t seem to get past what she was doing with her
hand as she again traced the ridges of muscle up and down his lean side, rucking his fur up in very interesting ways. Her breath was warm against his mouth and her
lips were soft and tasted faintly of strawberries – it must be that lip gloss she’s always putting on, he thought,
mildly befuddled.
He
realized with shock that at some point his left hand had drifted down to rest
lightly on the small of her back and his right hand was tangling itself in her
hair. His verdammt tail, meanwhile, was
twining and untwining itself rhythmically around one of her firm, slender
calves.
Oh mein Gott, he thought with a hint of panic, you’ve got to stop this. This is Kitty – she’s your friend, dummkopf, this is not right! And he had just about managed to convince
himself that he was going to put a
stop to things when her lips parted slightly against his and he felt her tongue
dart out to run hesitatingly along his lower lip. Her breath was warm and sweet and the feel of
her gently seeking tongue sent delicious shivers of fire down his spine.
He
tried to stifle a moan as he pulled her closer to him, his hand drifting lower
to cup her delightfully firm, round backside as he parted his own lips to taste
her mouth. He heard a small answering
moan as she opened her mouth farther to suck gently on his tongue and he
marveled at how sweet she tasted.
His
breath was now coming heavily and he was increasingly aware of all the
different places their bodies were pressed together and of how pathetically
thin the fabric of his boxers really was.
Why, exactly, was it that I
decided not to get back into my clothes when she showed up?
“Liebchen,” his voice was low and rough and his accent was
becoming thicker. He tried again,
“Kitty,” but it turned into a growling moan as she shifted herself above him
and he felt her thigh brush against the straining bulge in his shorts. Her breasts were now pressed against his chest
and he could feel her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. Both hands now gripped her waist, holding her
above him, and he was acutely aware of his rough, calloused hands against her
smooth flesh and the pressure of her body against his erection. He caught her lower lip gently between his
sharp teeth and then was alternating feather light kisses with careful nips
along her jaw and down her slender neck to the tender spot in the hollow of her
throat. She gasped as he sucked and
nuzzled lightly at her delicate skin and pressed her body down more firmly
against his.
Oh Gott im Himmel, this is wrong, he
thought with no real conviction, it felt so good just to be…touched. He did pull away slightly only to feel the
sweet pressure of her lips as she caught his mouth again with her own. She was more confident now, her kisses hot
and insistent as her tongue danced seductively against his own, one hand caught
in his unruly indigo locks as the other stroked and kneaded rhythmically along
the firm muscles of his shoulder and upper arm.
Her
tongue thrust out suddenly to run along his teeth and he pulled away abruptly,
turning his head to prevent her seeking mouth from finding his again. He felt her stiffen against him at this
sudden rejection and saw the hurt in her eyes.
He hastened to explain, his accent thick and his voice hoarse with
desire, “the fangs, Kaetzchen, watch the fangs.” She shook her head in disbelief and made an
impatient little noise in her throat as he smiled wolfishly up at her, “they are sharp you know,
I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”
It
was this simple statement of fact that brought him reeling back to what little
was left of his senses. What about this
situation was not going to hurt
her? She was confused and frightened,
she had come to him for comfort and support and he was taking advantage of her
vulnerability. It didn’t matter that she
had started this, it didn't matter how desperately he wanted to prolong the
sweet sensation of being touched in any way, it was up
to him to end it before things went any further. He could not bear the thought of causing her
pain or ruining their friendship over an impulsive action he was sure she would
regret later.
She
leaned down impatiently to take his mouth again, but again he turned his head,
presenting her with a fuzzy cheek.
“Kaetzchen,” he managed to force out, his voice only
nominally under his control, “we must
stop this now.” He felt her stiffen, saw the spark of indignation in her eyes and
hurried on before he could lose his resolve.
“You
know I love you and I treasure your friendship, Liebchen,
and this is not right. You will regret
this later, when you are less distressed and,” his voice broke harshly, “and I
could not bear that.”
Could
not, if he were totally honest with himself, bear her disgust when she realized
what she had done. After all, she may
have managed to get past his appearance to become his friend, but he could not
believe that she had gotten so far
past it that it would not repulse her to think of touching him in this way if
she were not so emotionally overwrought.
Kitty
looked down at Kurt’s earnest face and she wanted to be angry with him, wanted
to feel hurt and offended. How dare he not want her – here she was
throwing herself at him and he didn’t want
her? Did he know what Lance Alvers would do
for this opportunity? And he was turning
her down?
But
then she looked again, more deeply, and saw the desire smoldering in his golden
eyes like banked coals, felt his hands trembling where they held her and his
tail still twining at her leg. She could
feel his heart pounding against her breasts, his breath coming in short gasps
and there was no mistaking the bulge he was now trying to hold her away from. He did
want her, that much was obvious, so she forced her
fogged brain to consider his words.
Will I regret this later? True, it wasn’t at all what she’d planned
when she’d come looking for him. She had
just wanted someone to talk to, someone who she’d known would listen, and she could always count on Kurt for
that. His patience with her rambling was
almost inexhaustible.
Even
though nothing had changed, she felt so much lighter, more at peace, just for
having shared her fears with him. He was
one of the best friends she’d ever had and she didn’t think he really
understood how much he’d come to mean to her.
How could she regret this? She
loved him, maybe not in a way that would inevitably have led to this, but she
did love him and it felt so right, so good to be here in his arms.
It
had taken only a moment for all this to run through her mind as he gazed up at
her through smoldering golden eyes, watching warring emotions chase across her
face as she considered his objections, none of them ever quite concealing the
naked wanting in her gaze.
“Oh
Fuzzy Elf,” she finally gasped, her voice warm and husky, “I could never regret
this.”
She
felt him tense beneath her as she pressed urgently against him and watched his
eyes as she bent down to press her lips to his, her tongue instantly
seeking. She watched as the banked coals
behind his golden eyes flared back to life and almost pulled away at the
passion she saw there, but then his eyes were closing and he was moaning in pleasure
at the feel of her body, the touch of her lips.
She ran her hand softly down the velvet of his cheek, savoring the
amazing softness of it and marveling that she had never appreciated the sheer
sensuality of just touching him before.
He
was kissing her back again and she was losing herself in the warm, musky taste of his
mouth against hers. She let her hand
drift from his cheek to trace the edge of one delicately pointed ear and felt
him moan against her mouth as he shifted her to lay full length along him. She gasped at the feel of his erection
pressing against her crotch and belly and parted her legs to straddle him,
unreasoningly resentful of the layers of fabric between them.
His
hands, now free of her weight, were shifting upward beneath the edge of her
crop top. They were a sharp contrast to
the rest of him, large palms and fingers rough and horny with callous from
years of trapeze work. She was surprised
to find that the feel of them running up her sides was just as arousing as the
silken length of his tail caressing her thigh.
She wondered vaguely if he was even aware of its action, it so often
seemed possessed of a life of its own.
She
trailed a hand down his side, amazed at the thick layers of muscle on his light
frame. He moaned again and she traced
the outline of his abs, every muscle in sharp relief as he tensed beneath
her. She didn’t often notice how ripped
he was, even on the rare occasions when he wasn’t swathed in baggy shirts and
pants. The fur seemed to blur his
outline, making everything look smooth.
It was easy to forget just how strong he really was.
She
ran her hand down further, stopping at the waistband of his boxers then
cruising over and around to run down his thigh, reveling in the feel of his fur
against her fingers, darting her tongue into his mouth again as she did
so. His eyes were burning into hers and
he suddenly shifted his grip on her – one arm around her shoulders, the other
hand firmly on her backside – and then with a quick, smooth surge he had
levered himself up and over until he was gazing down at her rather than up,
their lips never having parted.
She
was still catching her breath at the strength required by that seemingly
effortless movement when his hands shifted again to push up beneath her shirt
and his lips drifted down along her jaw, pausing occasionally to lick or suck
or gently rake his fangs along her skin.
She took full advantage of her new position to run both hands over his
wide shoulders and down his back, lightly raking her nails through the short
nap of his fur and was rewarded when she felt the muscles tense and ripple
beneath her hands. Oh God, it feels so good.
He
was working his way down her neck now, nuzzling gently at her collarbone and
the hollow of her throat, murmuring husky endearments in thick German as,
shifting to support himself on one elbow he ran his other hand lightly up her
ribs to cup one breast, his rough fingers catching in the satin of her bra.
She
gasped as he gently kneaded the tender flesh through the thin fabric. Then he was moving again, pulling her upright
against his chest, his mouth against hers stifling a moan of protest at his
abandonment of her breast, his erection pressing firmly, insistently between
them. She wrapped her arms around him
tightly, her hands again dropping to the waistband of his shorts and then
beneath to feel the firmness of his ass through the velvety softness of his
fur.
He
reached beneath her shirt and she felt surprisingly deft hands fumble briefly
with the clasp of her bra before it came undone and then he was lowering her
down again, his weight pressing her firmly against the wood of the dock beneath
her, his mouth pressing hungrily down upon her own. She could feel his labored breathing and the
hot gasp of his breath against her lips and realized that her own breath was
coming just as short.
His
hand was slipping under her shirt again then under her bra to cup one small,
firm breast and she gasped again, pressing her whole body up to his as she
simultaneously pulled him down, grinding herself against his hardness and wishing
fervently that he weren’t still straddling her.
She knew, somewhere in the back of her brain, that this had to be wrong,
but couldn't bring herself to care - it felt so right.
A
moment later her wish was granted as he shifted down her body, one knee moving
to gently press her thighs apart. She
complied willingly, taking the opportunity to press her crotch hard against his
swollen length, feeling it pulse through the fabric of her shorts and feeling
an answering throb from her own sex.
“Oh God, Kurt. I want
you – now. Please,” she moaned and was
amazed at how thick and low her voice sounded in her own ears.
He
started to answer in German but paused, as if trying to find the words in
English was a struggle and then, in a soft, deep voice that was almost, but not
quite, a growl he managed, “nein Liebchen, not yet.”
His
lips were now replacing his hand on her left breast, while his hand shifted to
tease at the nipple of the other. She
moaned in frustration as she pressed her aching heat against him again, pulling
him more tightly against her with a firm grip on his equally firm ass. The feel of his tail twining around her leg,
its tip stroking her thigh, gave her an idea and she moved one hand to the
small of his back and then down to where the base of his tail emerged, thick
and muscular, just below. Moaning at the
sensations his attention to her breasts was sending through her body she
wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his tail and stroked smoothly down
its length as far as she could reach.
His
reaction was more than she’d bargained for as his head snapped up, eyes shut
tight and bottom lip clutched so tightly between his teeth that she saw twin
pin pricks of blood where his sharp incisors had pierced the skin. Simultaneously his entire body tensed
convulsively and she felt as well as heard a sound she could only think of as
growl ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.
At
first she worried that she’d hurt him, but then his eyes snapped open and she
saw no pain, but they were burning down at her so intensely that she actually
felt a little frightened. She realized
that his breath was coming harsh and ragged and his fangs were still buried in
his lip as he panted. She was just
beginning to recover from her surprise when he pushed himself quickly up and away from her. The chill of late afternoon was startling
against her skin as she realized that his body heat had been keeping her warm.
He
was kneeling with his back to her so quickly that it hardly seemed possible he
could have moved and his voice was low and harsh with passion and almost
strangled as he told her, “Ich denke. Nein! I think
you had better leave now Kaetzchen.”
She
sat up and began to move to him, but he turned still burning eyes to her and
almost snarled, his voice hoarse, as though it were wrenched out against his
will, “Please Kitty, I am sorry, but you really need to go – now.”
She was not looking at Kurt now, not at her Fuzzy Elf, but at the Nightcrawler, and for the first time in a long time she
found him frightening.
She
wanted to cry. What had she done? But she looked into those eyes burning like
twin suns and knew exactly what she had done, and she didn’t understand why it
was a problem.
“Please
Kaetzchen,” his voice was pleading now and she knew
that if she just reached out and touched him he would relent. But, “Please
Kitty, I, I have no…” he fumbled for the words, his jaw working, obviously
having difficulty translating his thoughts into English. It was gradually dawning on her what he was
so worried about and when he finally managed to grate out in a strangled moan,
“no protection, no condom,” he had
closed his eyes in embarrassment. Now
she understood the problem, but that didn’t change the almost overwhelming need
she felt – she wanted him so badly she ached with it.
“Couldn’t
we, you know…something else…?” she asked, gesturing helplessly with her hands,
her voice pleading.
“Nein,”
Kurt managed, his voice still a low, almost menacing growl. “Nein Liebchen, bitte…please, I
don’t think I can trust myself with you right now.” She heard the embarrassment in his voice and
saw the almost frightening passion in his eyes.
“Maybe before, but…nein, please Kaetzchen,
please leave.”
She
saw the tears in his eyes and realized the effort he was exerting to control
himself, to not touch her. It both
frightened and excited her, to have this kind of effect on him, on anyone. She knew that with one touch she could send
him into the abyss, let loose a tidal wave and she would be helpless before
it. She’d felt his strength now, the
easy way he’d handled her and she knew that, if he lost control, she couldn’t
stop him from doing anything he wanted.
She knew, moreover, that she wouldn’t want to. It was the realization of the risk she was
willing to take, along with a last, strangled, “please,” delivered from between Kurt’s tightly clenched teeth that
convinced her to do as he asked.
She
moved slowly away from him, never taking her eyes from his face, which was now
screwed up in a mask almost of pain – head thrown back so that the tendons of
his neck stood out in sharp relief, eyes tightly closed, fangs
once again buried in his lip. As she
watched blood run in a steady trickle down his chin to drip unheeded into the
fur of his chest she was more than a little worried for him.
“Kurt?” His eyes snapped open again, twin orbs so
bright that she thought by right they ought to burn her. “Will you be alright Fuzzy?” Her voice sounded tentative and frightened in
her ears.
“Fine,
Kaetzchen.
I’ll be fine.” His voice was
almost a whisper now. “Please, I’ll be
fine, I promise. Just…go now. I’ll be along soon.” His eyes had closed again as he spoke and she
stepped quietly away down the path along the lake, leaving him kneeling there
on the dock in the last of the fading sunlight.
She
was halfway back to the work site before her fogged brain registered that her
bra was still undone and the snap on her shorts had come open somewhere along
the line. She paused to straighten
herself, hands shaking, and then resumed her walk, forcing her breathing to
slow and her heart to calm, wondering if she would have time for a very long,
very hot bath before dinner. If not, she
would have to make time for a very short, very cold shower.
Kurt
knelt for a long time in the waning light, listening as Kitty’s footsteps faded
up the path. When he was certain that
she must be safely back to the mansion, or what was left of it, he finally let
himself move. He had been afraid that if
he let his guard down any sooner he would chase her down and to hell with the
consequences. He was more than a little
frightened by his response to her and much more than a little ashamed. He had almost lost all control, he could have
hurt her.
He
could feel the anger and the lust blazing just beneath the surface like a
furnace and he wondered if she’d seen it in his eyes. God, he hoped not. It wasn’t her fault,
she hadn’t known that one innocent touch could send him careening to the edge
of nightmare. One touch,
and it felt like passing through heaven on his way to hell. He felt hot tears of shame trickle down his
cheeks to mingle with the blood on his chin and chest. It had been so long since he’d lost control
so spectacularly. He’d hoped never to do
so again.
She
had trusted him and look where it had gotten her. He had been so certain he could control
himself, could do those…other things…she had so hopefully suggested. Oh,
like that would have made it OK Wagner? Scheisse, it would be like doing your little sister, you
fucking pervert.
The
worst part was that, despite the shame, he still burned with need for her,
still wanted desperately to run down the path and find her, take her, no matter
where she was or who was watching.
How
can I forgive the bigots who call me a monster? he
thought with a shudder. Maybe because they’re right.
Normally
he was not at all self-conscious about satisfying his body’s natural needs and
desires – in private of course. He was a
good Catholic, but not that good. But
now it was with a moan and a grimace of disgust that he slipped his hand down
the front of his boxers. Gott sei danke that
at least it wouldn’t take long, but he wondered despairingly how long it would
take before he felt clean again.
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