I, Mutant | By : Nemain Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 6935 -:- 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. |
I, Mutant chapter thirteen
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Winter is
schizo. That’s all there is to it. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and
Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: *gold star
of randomness * Morgan: *stalk? * Readers/Reviewers: As promised… smut.
“Stop squirming!”
“I’m sorry, sir,”
he gasped, ducking the thrown chalkboard eraser. “My back itches!”
The headmaster
narrowed his eyes and took three menacing steps towards the young man. “You will show me respect when I am speaking
to you,” he preached, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Until this year, you have been a model
student,” he droned on, and his audience was lost.
I was a model
student until my father threatened to pull funding, Warren thought bitterly. I was a model student until you found out he
was balling your sister…
“…and until then,”
the headmaster finished, “you’re restricted to your dormitory during non-class
hours. There’s three months left in the
school year and you’re going to have to keep your nose clean if you expect to
return for your senior year.”
Warren mouthed niceties and agreements,
standing when he was allowed and backing out of the office, straight into his
best friend. “I hate you,” he muttered,
not looking James in the eye as he started to stalk back to his dorm.
“Oh, come on!
Better you than me! I’d be kicked out for sure and have to go to PS 122 or
something! At least you just get a slap on the wrist!” the younger boy
chided.
“Jimmy! They think
I set the lab on fire!” Warren raked his fingers through his hair and
stopped in the middle of the hallway. “This
is the last time I take the fall for you, got it?”
“Warren, you’re my hero!” James giggled,
faking a swoon before skipping back down the hall towards the common room and
the smuggled-in porn that someone’s older brother had sent.
Warren paused to rub his back on the wall,
still frowning. “Warren Worthington III,
professional doormat…”
“You’re pretty
like a girl!” someone shouted from the back of the auditorium. Warren
scowled, his delicate face marred by the lines of displeasure spreading across
his face. He straightened his spine,
acutely aware of the lumps under the back of his shirt, an angular mimicry of
the lumps on the front. Tossing the
long, blonde hair of the wig[1]
over one shoulder, he stepped forward and recited his lines without thinking, staring
out over the mostly empty auditorium. He
did not even give his classmates a moment to react when he was done, stalking from
the stage to the wings, pulling at the ribbon that held his costume
closed.
“I don’t think you
look at all like a girl,” a familiar, soft voice whispered as delicate fingers
reached out and pulled him into the shadows of the stage.
“Sarah,” he
groaned, trying to extricate himself from her grasp. He did not want to be caught; he wanted this
one good thing in his life to stay just his and hers, no one else’s, but she
had become increasingly affectionate, more open with her attentions. Just that morning, James had said something
to him about it, teasing him about the bespectacled girl’s sweet words as she
passed in the hall. “Let’s wait until
later…” Her fingers were at his
waistband, plucking at the zipper to his uniform slacks. Her lips were against
his throat, her tongue flicking against his Adam’s apple as she pressed closer.
“Warren,” she whispered, pushing him further
into the darkness of the wings of the stage, “do you love me?”
He froze. “Do what now?” Her hand slid down the front of his pants,
caressing the evidence of his desire that he had ill luck controlling. She was squeezing him, her fingers
endeavoring to work between him and the fabric of his boxers.
“Do you love me?”
she repeated, succeeding in her efforts and drawing a soft groan from him as
she began to stroke carefully and firmly in the shadows, irregardless of the sounds
of play practice going on just a few feet away.
“Because I’m pretty sure I love you…”
Warren swallowed hard, his eyes squeezing
closed as she pushed his pants down past his hips. His mouth went dry as she dropped to her
knees, her breath hot and soft on his length.
“Sarah, stop…we’ll get caught!”
His back was itching terribly, to the point of pain, and his shirt felt
too tight, even as the falsies he wore as part of his costume fell to the
floor.
“I don’t care,”
she insisted, her tongue flicking across the head of his member. “I want to do this…”
He groaned almost
too loudly as she took in a few inches of his length. He felt the blush explode across his cheeks
as she tried to take some more into her warm, wet mouth. They had never gotten this far before, not
much beyond kissing and some over the clothing touching, and once she let him
go further, touching her intimately… Warren shook his head
slightly, trying to clear it before pushing her gently away. “Sarah, listen to
me… you don’t want to do this here. Let’s
wait, okay?” He swallowed hard, his
heart pounding in his chest and ears. He
didn’t really want to stop but his damned common sense was winning out over the
hormones, and he wasn’t sure he would last much longer if she tried again.
She stood slowly,
her eyes downcast. “Okay. Whatever. I guess…”
She shook her head and turned, walking quickly away, her shoulders
hunched.
“What the fuck was
that?” he sighed, readjusting his clothing.
His back was killing him and he wanted to go back to his dorm and lay
down, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
“Is that smoke?”
“Go back to bed,
Jimmy…”
“Dude, I smell
smoke. Wake up!”
Warren groaned and pulled the sheet over his
head. “No.”
“Just because you
had a fight with Four Eyes doesn’t mean you get to roast alive in bed!” Jimmy
shouted. “Warren, the dorm’s on fire!”
He sat up straight
in bed, forgetting to be careful. The
bedside lamp hit the floor as his eyes adjusted to the light. “I didn’t do it!”
“Me either!” James
shouted, throwing the window open. “Come
on!” The smoke alarms were shrilling
their warnings up and down the hall, and the shouts of the other boarders could
be heard through the claxons.
Warren slid from the bed, tripping over the
blonde wig on the floor and the pile of his costume from earlier. His wings, unbound for the night, seemed to
move of their own volition, opening wide and curling around him. James was shouting for him still, but Warren was not
listening. His eyes grew wide, taking in
the blonde hair on the floor and the white gown. Maybe these things would be useful after all…
maybe all the pain and suffering could be worth it…
[1]
http://www.marveldirectory.com/individuals/a/archangel.htm
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